#he's gonna beach his own record

[dinosaurwithablog]

He did it again!! Another multi home run game for Aaron Judge!!! He started the game on pace for 58 home runs this year, and after this second homer in this game, he's now on pace for 60 home runs this year. If he keeps going like he is, I bet that he'll break his own record. I would love to see him break Barry Bonds record and put that conversation to rest. If Bonds was in the Olympics, they would've stripped him of all his records because he's a cheater and used steroids. I don't understand why in baseball they glorify him when he cheated and used performance enhancing drugs. It's ridiculous. Aaron Judge is the all time, non cheating home run king. No debate. No question. That's a fact. Not that I have an opinion 😁

Let's go, Aaron ❤️

Let's go Yankees!!!!!

[scary-grace]

SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

You're a hero who specializes in water rescue, and you've been captured by the League of Villains. It only gets worse when you find out why.

my first ever MerMay thing! Canon-ish, hero!reader, reader has a transformation quirk, mild mortal peril, etc. Part 1 of...more. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

When you became a rescue hero, you knew what you were getting into. A rescue hero’s life isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t come with sponsorships and it doesn’t really come with product endorsements, and you only really matter when something’s already gone wrong. You don’t fight villains – you just save people, usually from themselves. You’re the last person any villain would be interested in kidnapping. There’s no reason for Japan’s most dangerous villains to take any notice of you.

At least that’s what you thought. But the last thing you remember from this morning is leaving your house and heading for work – and the next thing you know, you’re standing out on a sea arch with six members of the League of Villains staring at you.

They asked you a question, but you’ve already forgotten it. The shock of it all – kidnapped, villains – is making it hard to think. “Can you run that by me again?”

“What about it aren’t you getting?” Dabi sneers. “We need you to teach Shigaraki to swim.”

Maybe you do remember something about that. It doesn’t make any more sense the second time around. “Why?”

“Because,” Toga Himiko says, from behind a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, “we’re having our beach episode. And we aren’t going to have fun if we’re worried about Tomura-kun.”

“Right!” Twice announces. He’s still wearing his mask, but the rest of him is decked out in swim trunks, flip-flops, and a floppy hat. “I can’t frolic in the waves with my best pals if I’m worried one of them is gonna wander off and drown, and Spinner said we can’t put Shigaraki on one of those retractable kid leashes –”

“For the record, none of this was my idea.” Spinner looks embarrassed, and not at all like the villain you’ve seen on TV – without his Stain mask, he just looks like a normal guy with a heteromorphic quirk. “I just said we shouldn’t do a beach day if not everybody can enjoy it.”

“And I said you all can do whatever the fuck you want.” Shigaraki is standing off to one side, his face hidden beneath a hand and the hood of his black coat. It’s barely nine and the temperature’s already cracked thirty degrees. He must be boiling alive. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Of course you do,” Dabi says. His sneer isn’t hero-specific, it looks like – Shigaraki gets the exact same one as you did. “None of us want to put up with your bitching and moping –”

“Or your drowning –” Twice chimes in.

“So we found you a swim instructor,” the fifth member of the group concludes. He’s tall, with brown hair and eyes, and you don’t have a clue who he is. “She can help you.”

Shigaraki glances your way briefly, then returns to staring out at the sea. “I don’t need fucking help. Go roll in the sand and leave me alone.”

Problem solved, not that it’s going to help you any. If Shigaraki doesn’t want swim lessons, then your purpose here is at an end, and they’re probably going to kill you. At the same time, though, you’re aware of your proximity to the edge of the cliff. If you can get over that edge and hit the water, you’re golden. None of them have the kind of quirks that would let them chase you down, and you can swim to the nearest guarded beach and sound the alarm. The fact that you didn’t show up for work this morning probably sounded the alarm already. This is doable. Maybe.

The League of Villains isn’t paying quite as much attention to you as they were a second ago. They’re focused on Shigaraki. “She’s an expert. She does this all the time,” Spinner is saying. “I looked her up. People pay big money for her to teach their kids to swim.”

The brown-haired man looks interested. “How much money are we talking about?”

Spinner names a figure that’s triple what you charge for private lessons, on the rare occasions when you offer them. He and Dabi both worship Stain. They’ll think you’re disgusting, and instead of escaping while their backs are partially turned, you open your mouth to defend yourself. “I don’t really do private lessons,” you say, and they look at you. “My swim classes are open to anybody. And the rest of the time I lifeguard. So, uh – if you think I make a lot of money doing this, I don’t. That’s not why I became a hero.”

Twice hoots with laughter. “Some hero. We grabbed you without breaking a sweat.”

“I’m a rescue hero,” you say, aware that it’s pointless. Instead of you using their distraction to escape, Shigaraki’s using your distraction to sidle away from the others. “My job isn’t to fight villains. It’s to help people.”

Dabi gives you an evaluative look. “A rescue hero,” he says. “I heard your type is always on duty. If you see somebody in trouble, and your quirk and training equip you better than the average person to help, you have to. Right?”

“That’s weird,” Toga says. She lowers her sunglasses for a better look at you. “Is it true? If you see someone who needs help, you have to save them?”

“Yeah.” The rules are different for rescue heroes than regular heroes. “If I can help someone in distress, I have a responsibility to do it.”

“Got it,” Dabi says. That thoughtful look on his face is fading fast into malice, and a jolt of terror shoots down your spine. “Hey, Shigaraki –”

Shigaraki takes a few steps away from Dabi without turning around, and before you can so much as call out a warning, Dabi plants his hand on Shigaraki’s back and shoves him over the edge of the cliff. “There’s someone in distress,” he says, as Shigaraki vanishes with a curse that abruptly breaks off in a scream. “Help him.”

You’re not the only one who’s horrified to see Shigaraki go over the edge, but you are the only one who can do something about it. While Twice and Toga berate Dabi, and Spinner runs to the edge of the cliff and comes damn close to giving you two people to rescue instead of one, you pause for the most crucial step in a successful rescue: Taking a second to evaluate the scene. You peer down at the water and realize instantly that Dabi couldn’t have picked a worse place to push Shigaraki off. You could jump from the same spot, but why make it harder on yourself? You move to the left instead.

The brown-haired man you don’t recognize spots you. “What are you doing? He fell in over here –”

You tune him out – and the others, too, when they remember why Dabi pushed Shigaraki off a cliff in the first place. You breathe deep, more for show than anything else, then break into a run. Ten steps puts you at the edge, and you launch yourself over, bracing for the long drop into the water. That part never gets easier.

But your jump has carried you clear of the rocks and heavy surf at the base of the cliff, and when you hit the water, there’s nothing but ocean beneath you. You jumped feet-first, and your water shoes – the only support item you carry – immediately begin to stretch, molding to the shape of your feet as your quirk fuses and elongates them into fins. Webbing spreads between your fingers, and when you open your eyes, they’re impervious to the sting of seawater. Full immersion in seawater is enough to activate your quirk in its entirety, but years of training allow you to hold the transformation where it is. You have someone to rescue.

You swim for the spot Shigaraki went in. He won’t have gone far, not with how ceaselessly the waves batter against that section of the cliff, and it doesn’t take you long to find him. He’s underwater, still moving but sluggish under the weight of his clothes, his hair drifting around his face. There’s blood in the water around him. You can taste it, and as you swim closer, you see that it’s emanating from somewhere around his head and shoulders. He hit something when he fell, and head and neck injuries are a disaster no matter who gets them or how they occur. Is he even conscious? Whether he is or not, you need to get him out of the water.

You let the current carry you close, and although you hate yourself for it, you hesitate a second before reaching for him. You know how his quirk works. All five fingers touch you, and you’re dead. Trying to help Shigaraki could be the last thing you ever do.

But ocean rescue is dangerous, even for someone with your quirk. Every rescue could be the last thing you ever do, and if you do nothing, Shigaraki will drown right before your eyes. You can’t let that happen. You dive down to him, slip your hands under his arms from behind, and haul him upward. He comes to life in your grip, thrashing while you kick for the surface. You’d be more frightened of the fact that he’s trying to turn and grab you if every other person you’ve rescued hasn’t done exactly the same thing.

The two of you break the surface, you doing your best to keep Shigaraki’s mouth above the waves so he won’t swallow any more water than he already has while he tries to breathe. Your lungs haven’t even started to burn yet. You give him a few seconds to gasp for air, then order him to keep his mouth shut and close his eyes. No time to check if he’s done it or not. The only way you’re getting through the surge to calmer water is if you go under it. The next wave crests and you dive beneath it, pulling Shigaraki after you.

Now he’s trying hard to grab you, to use you to push himself to the surface. You adjust your grip and switch to a dolphin kick, fighting your quirk and its attempts to help you. At the same time, you keep count in your head. Shigaraki will need to breathe soon. You need to be through the waves by then.

As soon as the turbulence begins to soften, you swim for the surface again. Once again, you make sure Shigaraki clears the surface first. He’s coughing and gasping for air, but his chin’s above water, which means you’re in good shape for now. “Take some deep breaths. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Fuck you.” Shigaraki coughs and spits out seawater. “This is your fault. I’m not safe. You dragged me out to the middle of the ocean instead of – that had better not be a fucking shark –”

“It’s a dolphin,” you say. The dolphin swims a little closer, decides you and Shigaraki aren’t interesting enough for further investigation, and turns swiftly away. “We’re headed to the beach now. I just needed to get us clear of the surge.”

You swim back for the beach, propelling yourself mainly with your legs. You need both arms to secure Shigaraki. He’s not fighting, which is a relief – and he’s not talking, which makes you nervous. He hit his head. You need him to talk so you can assess him. “Hey, Shigaraki? How are you holding up?”

He mumbles something. “I’m going to need you to repeat that,” you say. “How are you doing?”

“Do you put everybody you rescue in a headlock?”

“It’s not a headlock,” you say. “This is how I swim with anyone I rescue. It’s what’s safest.”

“Sure. And it’s not –” Shigaraki coughs as a wave splashes into his open mouth. “It’s definitely not because you’re scared of my quirk, right?”

You don’t see a point to answering that. Shigaraki keeps talking anyway, a sharp, irritated note in his voice. “How stupid do you think I am? I still can’t swim. If I Decay you out here, I’ll drown.”

So you’ll be in more danger on the beach than in the water. Good to know. You swim the rest of the way to shore, dragging yourself and Shigaraki onto the sand. Once you’re clear of the water, you start your actual assessment. “I saw blood in the water. Did you hit your head?”

Shigaraki nods, grimacing. “When?” you ask. He shrugs. “I need to know. Did you hit it when you fell, or once you were already in the water.”

“I came up for air. The fucking waves pushed me into the – what are you doing?” Shigaraki flinches as you move some strands of wet hair out of his face. “Don’t touch me.”

“I need to see the cut.” You keep looking, with a little more urgency this time. “Did you lose consciousness?”

“No,” Shigaraki says. You find the cut – a jagged gouge from his temple to his ear, just below his hairline – and make a skeptical sound before you can stop yourself. “Stop touching it.”

“Sorry. I know it hurts.”

“I didn’t say it hurt. I’m not some primary-school brat who cries about everything.” Shigaraki responds with a lot more venom than you’d expect given what you actually said to him. “It’s not like you can do anything, so don’t bother.”

The League grabbed you on your way to work, which meant you had all your supplies with you. Your first-aid kit is still hooked onto your belt. “I have what I need,” you say. “Are you going to let me help, or do you want to keep bleeding all over the sand?”

“You can’t help me if I don’t let you.”

“That’s right,” you say patiently. Sometimes people you’ve rescued get hostile with you ��� out of fear, or embarrassment. Even though this is probably just Shigaraki’s personality, you know how to deal with it. “Are you going to let me?”

Shigaraki holds your gaze for a second, averting his eyes faster than you’d expect. “Do your job. Whatever that means to a so-called hero.”

He’s mean. Of course he’s mean. He’s a villain – but honestly, you’ve rescued civilians who were worse. You pry open the first-aid kit and get to work. You’ll bandage him up, make sure he’s not decompensating, and escape. No one’s faster than you in the water, and given that Shigaraki can’t swim, he’s not going to chase you if you go back in. You’ll warn someone, the League will be captured, and you can forget all about this. It’s fine. Everything is going to be –

“Hey, I found them!” Toga is hollering down from the top of the headland to your right. “The hero brought Tomura-kun to this beach instead of the other one. Tomura, are you okay?”

“It looks bad!” Twice announces. Then, to you: “Give him mouth-to-mouth. With tongue!”

“He’s conscious, breathing, and talking. He doesn’t need mouth to mouth,” you say. You hear this joke a lot, usually from guys whose friend you just saved, and it irks you. “And you don’t do mouth-to-mouth with tongue.”

“Hey! You can’t give Shigaraki substandard mouth-to-mouth just because he’s a villain!” Spinner’s arrived now, too. “What kind of hero are you?”

“The kind who’s trying to do my job,” you say. They’re distracting you, and you need to focus on Shigaraki, not in the least because he could kill you instantly if you make a mistake. You need to keep assessing. “Okay, you didn’t pass out. Did you swallow water at all? Or breathe any in?”

“I didn’t breathe it.” Shigaraki coughs, then grimaces, a flash of panic crossing his face. “Shit. I’m gonna hurl –”

He rolls to one side and vomits seawater into the sand, and you hold his hair back, mainly so you can keep it out of the head wound you’ve just cleaned. “See, he’s fine,” Dabi says from the headland. “Told you.”

“Are you sure he’s fine?” Spinner sounds like he’s thinking about pushing Dabi off the cliff. “Hey. Hero. Is he going to be fine?”

“I’m still assessing,” you caution. Shigaraki coughs a few times, then flops back into the sand. “So far, I’m not too worried, but –”

“Great! We’re going to be over there!” Toga points to the beach on the other side of the headland. “That’s where Mister Compress put all the fun stuff. See you soon, Tomura-kun!”

Most of the League vanishes without another word, but Spinner hangs on a little longer, glaring down at you. “Spinner,” Shigaraki says, his voice raspy, and Spinner looks towards him. “It’s fine. See you – over there.”

Spinner nods and leaves, which is a relief for you. Usually you aren’t that intimidated by guys in purple board shorts, but you usually haven’t been kidnapped by a gang of villains who are hovering over you, shouting bad advice. And you’ve got a different problem now – Shigaraki, who’d be intimidating no matter what he’s wearing. Maybe. He’s soaking wet, his clothes plastered to him, and he’s a lot skinnier than you thought he’d be. He’s looking at you expectantly. “Are you going to fix my head?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You pick through your kit for an appropriately-sized waterproof bandage. “Hold still.”

To your surprise, Shigaraki does it, not even flinching when you move a few more strands of his wet hair away from his face. “Why’d you bring me here instead of the other beach?”

“It was a longer swim. I wanted to get you back on land as fast as possible.” You press the bandage down carefully, running your finger over the edge to make sure it seals properly. “Okay. All done.”

Shigaraki starts trying to sit up, and on instinct, you reach out to help, only realizing your mistake when Shigaraki flinches away. He barks a question at you before you can apologize. “How do I get to the other beach? Climb that thing?”

“No,” you say. “Those headlands aren’t stable, and, uh – you probably need both hands to climb. Both hands and all your – what?”

Shigaraki ignores you. He’s fumbling in the sand, patting down the pockets of his coat, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, panic descends over his features. “The hands,” he says, and your stomach lurches. “I lost them.”

“Um –” You don’t know what to say, and Shigaraki’s hands rise to claw at the sides of his neck. “If they’re a support item – I know it sucks to lose those, but you can probably get –”

“They’re my family’s hands. I can’t just get more!” Shigaraki’s starting to hyperventilate. “I need them –”

He shoves you to one side, gets unsteadily to his feet, and stumbles back towards the surf. You chase after him, thankful that your feet have mostly gone back to normal. “Hey. Where are you going?”

“I have to get them.” Shigaraki shakes you off when you catch his arm, and you grab him again. “Fuck you. Let me go!”

“You still can’t swim. If I let you go out there, you’ll drown.” You grit your teeth. You really, really don’t want to do this, but – “I can go look for them.”

Shigaraki blinks. “Huh?”

“I’ll swim you over to the other beach, and then I’ll look for them,” you repeat. “People ask me to find stuff they dropped all the time.”

You don’t mention that you usually say no, because it’s a waste of time when you’re supposed to be looking out for everyone on the beach. But it’s just Shigaraki here, and his breathing is starting to even out. “How are you supposed to find them? It’s the ocean.”

“They’re a little heavy, right? They’ll sink, and since I know how the currents work, I can figure out where they probably touched down.” You risk letting go of Shigaraki’s arm, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn’t immediately bolt. “Come on. I’ll swim you over.”

“Are you going to put me in a headlock again?”

“Not if you promise not to grab me,” you say. He rolls his eyes. “I’m not kidding.”

“And I’m not stupid. If I kill you out there, I’ll drown.” Shigaraki lets one hand fall from his neck, then the other. “Swim me over. Now.”

You take a second to pack up your first-aid kit, then lead Shigaraki out into the water. You give the headland a wide berth, even though it means swimming more than a hundred yards out from the shore, but unlike last time, Shigaraki doesn’t question you. In fact, he doesn’t speak at all, except once. “Is that a –”

“Still a dolphin,” you say. The fin protruding from the water is rounded, and the snout that bumps against your hip is smooth and blunt. “Nothing to worry about.”

The entry to the other beach is smooth and easy. You can see why the League chose this one to hang out on – white sands, gentle waves, picturesque to the max. You hope they didn’t kill anyone to claim this beach for themselves. It looks familiar to you, but you can’t quite remember why, and you realize all at once that you don’t know where you are. Where is this place? How far away did they take you?

It doesn’t matter. You can swim to wherever you need to go, as soon as you dump Shigaraki off on the beach. And you don’t even have to take him all the way in – when they see him, Spinner and Twice come out to help. Shigaraki shrugs them off. “I’m fine.”

“Can you swim yet?” Twice asks. Shigaraki scoffs, and Twice turns on you. “You were supposed to teach him to swim!”

“I will,” you lie. “After I find the hands.”

“Ew,” Toga remarks from the beach, where she’s building a sandcastle. “You don’t need those, Tomura-kun. You feel better without them.”

Shigaraki ignores her and looks back to you. “You’ll find them.”

“Yeah.” You dive back into the water and swim for the other side of the headland. Maybe while you’re over there, you can come up with a plan.

There’s no way to get out of gathering up the hands. If you don’t, Shigaraki will go in to get them himself and drown, and you can’t call yourself a rescue hero if you’re willing to let someone die. You’ll find the hands, removing any incentive Shigaraki has to go back into the water, and then you’ll clear out. You can swim as far as you need to in order to find a populated beach, and once you do, you’ll be able to direct them back here to arrest the League. You track the current around the headland, noting that it forms a small vortex in a recessed area in the rocks. That’s where you’ll find Shigaraki’s hands. He said they were his family’s. What does that mean?

You figure out what it means, the second you find the first one. You pick it up out of the jagged rocks underwater and recoil, dropping it instantly. It’s not a model hand, like you thought when you saw him on TV. It’s a real, embalmed human hand, smaller than yours. It looks like it belonged to a little kid, and a surge of guilt travels through you, mixed in with frustration. You’re not the crazy one. Shigaraki’s the crazy one, for wearing his family’s embalmed hands all over himself all the time. It’s not weird at all for you to not want to touch a little kid’s embalmed hand.

But there’s something sad amidst the awfulness of it all, and whoever’s hand this was, it deserves better from you than just being pitched into the water because you got the ick. You retrieve it again, grimacing. Diving for embalmed hands is one thing, but the longer you stay underwater, the harder it becomes to resist your quirk’s transformation. The sooner you finish this, the better.

It takes you two trips to collect all the hands. Shigaraki wades out into the water to take them from you, but rather than putting them back on, he carries them past the high-tide line and dumps them in the sand. “You found all of them,” he says to you, and you nod. “I didn’t think you could do it.”

That’s neither a thank-you or a compliment, but you expect exactly none of that from a villain. And now’s your moment – Shigaraki’s up on the sand, the others are distracted, and nobody will be able to catch you once you cross the drop-off. “Stay out of the water,” you say, and as Shigaraki’s opening his mouth to respond, you turn and dive back in, swimming hard for the open sea.

This time, you let the transformation kick in, and it’s a relief. Each kick propels you through the water at speed, and you watch the seafloor fall away beneath you. You’ll swim a circuit of the island, figure out where you are, and take off. With luck, you’ll reach land way before the League decides to call cut on their beach episode.

In the water, with your transformation mostly complete, you can see everything, and although sound is muffled underwater, your dorsal and flank fins can pick up vibrations, giving you a heads-up for any sound or movement. But you don’t need your fins to pick up the flailing and thrashing that’s going on behind you. Someone’s in distress, and you have a bad feeling about who. You’re right. When you glance reluctantly over your shoulder, you find Shigaraki, just past the drop-off and sinking fast.

It’s not a question of what you’ll do next, no matter how frustrated you are. You breach the surface, suck down a new lungful of air, and swim back to shore.

The salt water must be stinging Shigaraki’s eyes, but he’s got them open, and when he sees you, they widen even further in shock. You know what he’s looking at, know that the natural response is to flinch back – but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches up for you. there’s nothing you can do but dodge his hands, wrap your arms around him, and pull him back to the surface for the third time today.

He’s gasping, coughing, but you don’t have the patience to wait for him to catch his breath. “Are you crazy? What was that about?” The answer occurs to you, and your frustration explodes. “Did you seriously try to drown yourself so I’d have to come back?”

“It worked,” Shigaraki says. You count to ten and remind yourself that you’re a rescue hero, just so you won’t drop him back in the water and let him sink. “You’re a rescue hero. You have to save people who need help. And I need help, so –”

“You’re going to keep drowning yourself so I can’t leave.”

“Or,” Shigaraki says, “you can teach me to swim.”

“I thought you didn’t want a swim lesson,” you say. “What changed your mind?”

“Seems like something I should know,” Shigaraki says. He shrugs. “And I’d be a dumbass to turn down swim lessons from a mermaid.”

You don’t like being called a mermaid, but at the same time, you know you’re not beating the allegations. When your quirk is fully activated, it transforms your legs into a long tail, complete with multiple sets of fins. It sprouts webbing between your fingers, lengthens your ears, changes the structure of your eyes. If you stayed under long enough, you’d probably sprout gills. You don’t look like a Disney mermaid, but mermaid is still what people see when they look at you when your quirk is on full blast. You’d never have let it get this far if you thought you might have to come back.

Shigaraki’s legs brush against one of your pectoral fins, and you clamp down on a shiver. This is why you never transform fully at work. Worse, you’re breaking protocol – you’re never supposed to hold victims face to face, and you’re definitely not supposed to let them wrap their arms around you like Shigaraki is doing right now. He’s getting weirdly familiar for somebody who’s so against being touched. “I’ll teach you to swim, and then what? You’ll let me go?”

“Maybe.” Shigaraki shrugs. “If you help me out, I won’t have a good reason to kill you.”

That might be the best you’ll get. For now. Once he knows how to float, you’re bailing out. “Fine. I’ll teach you.”

Shigaraki looks pleased. Not smug, like you’d expect – just pleased. “Okay. What do I do first?”

“Get back on land,” you say, “and find a swimsuit. I’m not teaching you in your clothes.”

Shigaraki’s suspicious at first, enough to remind you that he’ll just go over the drop-off if you try to escape again, and you react the same way he does when you remind him not to grab you. He heads up the beach, towards the surf shack Mr. Compress – the brown-haired guy you couldn’t place before – must have stolen. Meanwhile, you work on getting yourself out of the surf. Your quirk won’t start to deactivate until you’re clear of the water, and to teach a normal person to swim, it helps to be working with the same equipment as they are.

You use the waves as much as you can, but eventually it’s just you and the wet sand, and your tail is so heavy that you’re reduced to hauling out on the beach like a seal. It looks stupid. You look stupid, and all you can do is hope that the League of Villains is looking the other way. They aren’t. Shigaraki might be off looking for a swimsuit, but the other five are all staring your way.

It doesn’t take long for you to lose patience. “What?”

They ignore you. “I knew we grabbed the right one,” Toga says, gleeful. “We got Tomura-kun a mermaid!”

Dabi is nodding, a smirk on his face. “This is perfect. She’s gonna keep him busy all day long.”

“I’d be busy forever. Look how pretty her tail is –”

You flop back in the sand, staring up at the sky. Not only are you going to have to teach Shigaraki to swim, you’re going to have to do it while being stared at like you’re an animal in a zoo – and if you try to escape, Shigaraki will try to drown himself just to make you come back. This is going to be the worst beach episode ever. At least for you.

taglist: @deadhands69 @shigarakislaughter @handumb @cheeseonatower @lvtuss @xeveryxstarfallx @atspiss @warxhammer @stardustdreamersisi @shikiblessed @evilcookie5 @aslutforfictionalmen @dance-with-me-in-hell @agente707 @koohiii @minniessskii @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @lacrimae-lotos @issaortiz @f3r4lfr0gg3r

[ordinary-barbie]

'cause you know i love the players, and you love the game.

summary: Saxon is always up for a challenge, but he wasn't prepared for you to beat him at his own game.

word count: 2.7k

tags: saxon being a typical prick, lots of sexual tension, bantering, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, doggy style, missionary, creampie, saxon is a bit of a mean!dom, reader...reads books (lol), saxon lowkey good at aftercare?

note: song title from blank space by tswift!

18+ content ahead—minors DNI!

Saxon loved a challenge.

He'd always been super competitive, even as a child. He had to be the fastest in gym class, the smartest student in AP Econ, the best employee at work to shut down the stupid nepo baby discourse.

But if there's one challenge Saxon especially thrived for, it was chasing women. He lived for the girls who played hard to get, who didn't fall into his lap so easily—though he definitely wouldn't turn those kinds of ladies down. (Hey, he was still getting his dick wet.) And with the White Lotus's stupid "digital detox" bullshit, he was even more hyperfocused on seeking out some pussy.

That British girl with the brown hair—Chelsea—had caught his eye right from the start. But she seemed to actually be in love with that grouchy fifty-year-old dude for some reason. There was Chloe, but she too was inexplicably wrapped up with some old white dude. Saxon didn't get it.

He turned a wandering eye to Jaclyn and her two friends—they were hot, and he was horny. But then, someone stopped him in his tracks: you.

You dropped into the beach chair next to Saxon's without a second thought, pulling a book out of your bag. Slouching Towards Bethelem by Joan Didion, whoever the fuck that was. You pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and opened your book, crossing and uncrossing your legs.

Saxon lazily trailed his eyes up and down your body, giving extra focus to your beautiful tits and those incredible legs. Holy shit. He felt his pants grow tighter and all you were doing was fucking reading.

Saxon leaned in closer to you. "Hey, I'm Saxon. Whatcha reading?"

You looked up from your book, sending Saxon a withering glare that made his dick twitch. "Why do you care? I didn't think frat boys knew how to read," you snarkily replied.

Saxon laughed heartily. "Wow, you are mean. "I went to Duke, babe. Of course, I can read."

"I'm not your babe," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Well, you didn't give me a name, sweetheart. I gotta know who I'm working with here," Saxon said flirtatiously.

Against your better judgment, you gave Saxon your name. He repeated it, loving how the syllables sounded in his mouth. He hoped he got to scream it once he was balls deep inside of you.

"I'm guessing you're not really interested in Joan Didion's musings on life in 1960s California," you deadpanned, holding up your book cover so Saxon could see the title.

"Nah, not really," Saxon casually replied. "But I'd listen to you read the fuckin' dictionary, to be honest."

You chuckled, and Saxon felt like he'd won the fuckin' lottery. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you, Saxon?"

Saxon lazily smirked. "What do you think I studied at Duke?"

You scoffed, trying to look impassive, but this stupid frat boy was actually amusing you. "You're incredible."

"Incredibly...handsome? Funny? Irresistible?" Saxon flashed you a cocky grin.

You shook your head, returning to your book. "If you think I'm gonna stroke your ego, keep dreaming, my guy."

It was official—Saxon was hooked. Let the games begin.

-

Slowly but surely, Saxon began to unravel the mystery behind you. You'd studied photography at a state school ("Sorry it's no Duke," you'd quipped). You were the same age as him and were on vacation with your mom and stepdad, who was "hella loaded." You loved collecting records and the color blue ("Like my eyes," Saxon noted smugly.)

It’s been a while since he’d done this, actually getting to know a girl. And you were pretty cool. But Saxon had needs, and he felt like he wasn’t any closer to getting you in his bed. He’d had to settle for imagining your body on his while he jerked off in the bathroom.

Saxon felt like you were torturing him. Every piece of clothing you wore drove him crazy. You could be wearing a beach cover up and all he could think about is ripping it off and bending you over one of the chairs.

The afternoon had started off as usual. You sat in your beach chair, pulling out a book to read (today’s was As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner). Then you yawned and stretched, arching your back and giving Saxon a nice view of the cleavage hidden behind your bikini top.

Then you turned to him, asking if you could rest your feet in his lap. Obviously, he said yes. You smiled and went back to your book. But then…the tip of your foot started grazing his calf. He thought he imagined it at first, but then you did it again. Saxon gulped, the tips of his ears turning pink and his stomach doing flips. Fuck. He silently pleaded for the blood to stop rushing to his dick.

"Everything good, Saxon?" you asked sweetly, resting your book in your lap.

"I'm always good," Saxon said, trying to look like the very picture of nonchalance.

You flashed him a sly grin before returning to your book, but not before your foot casually brushed up against the growing tent in his shorts. Oh, you were evil. Saxon was so used to having the upper hand, able to charm women eventually, even the hard-to-get ones. But there you were, pulling out tricks Saxon didn't even know you had.

“Well played,” Saxon muttered to himself, impressed.

-

Saxon wasn't a hugely spiritual person, but he felt the universe had aligned things perfectly for him in that moment.

Chloe and her weird old man boyfriend had invited the Ratliffs and your family to hang out on their yacht, but you'd declined, feigning a headache. Your mom had worried, but Saxon quickly jumped in, assuring that he would ensure you would be taken care of while she and your stepdad were on the boat.

Now the two of you were alone, enjoying each other's company in your family's residence. Both of you were sprawled out on the couch, Saxon allowing you to use him as a footrest once again while you read another book (A Room with a View by E.M. Forster was today's choice).

"Just wondering, did you bring an entire fuckin library here or what?" Saxon teased, nudging your foot.

You snorted, playfully rolling your eyes at Saxon. "I always like to carry a few books when I travel. Maybe try cracking one open sometime—it might expand that little brain of yours."

"Don't know why you need those old books when I'm right here, baby," Saxon said, smirking lazily.

You stuck your bookmark in your book and put it on the coffee table, focusing your attention on Saxon. "You know what? You're right."

You shifted your position, climbing into Saxon's lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You stared intently at him, inching your face closer and closer...your lips nearly touching his...

Then you brushed his nose with yours and returned to your spot on the couch, whistling innocently.

Saxon felt a boiling teakettle about to erupt. You were in his fucking lap, so close to finally putting those gorgeous lips on his, and then—you just had to be a little tease. Saxon wondered, did it get you off to see him so flustered and sexually frustrated?

Saxon muttered some excuse about needing to piss, locking himself in the nearest bathroom and stroking his painfully hard cock. He had the image of you in his lap, all pretty and perfect, playing on a loop in his mind as he spurted out hot ropes of cum into his hand.

-

It was the night of the Full Moon Party, and Saxon was ready to let loose.

Chloe, Chelsea, Saxon, and you had flocked to Koh Phangan to let loose and party. It turned out that Chloe and Chelsea were actually fun without their boring old boyfriends around. However, Saxon mainly had eyes for you.

You were mesmerizing, looking like a vision in your glittery eyeshadow and crocheted bikini top. Saxon watched you casually drinking a beer and getting jealous of the bottle, wishing your lips were wrapped around him.

When Chloe offered you all party drugs, you and Saxon both declined. Saxon was relieved. If something were to happen tonight—and he was hoping it was, because he couldn't deal with this pent-up horniness any longer—he didn't want you to be fucked up in the process.

Chloe convinced you all to continue the party on the yacht, and you all obliged. You marveled at the size of the yacht, intimidated by its size. Your stepdad was rich, yes, but it looked like Chloe's boyfriend Gary was wealthy wealthy.

On the other hand, Saxon didn't give a shit about the yacht. He supposed it was nice, but he was operating on a one-track mind right now.

Saxon pulled Chloe aside, asking her if there was anywhere...private to hang out on the yacht.

Chloe smirked. "You're going to fuck _____, aren't you?"

Saxon huffed. "Dunno. I'm trying to."

Chloe laughed. "We have a guest room upstairs. Follow me."

-

When Chloe told you that Saxon wanted to meet with you on the terrace, you weren't entirely sure what to expect. The past few days with him had been a fun game of cat-and-mouse, with banter flying easily between the two of you, and his priceless reactions to you getting a rise out of him.

But something about this particular night felt different. Maybe it was the full moon or something in the air, but you suddenly had butterflies in your stomach.

Saxon was lounging in a deck chair, his shirt fully unbuttoned. His grin when he finally spotted you was absolutely filthy. "Hey," he said casually. "Having a good night?"

You nodded, sitting in the chair next to Saxon's. "It's been fun."

"You wanna keep having some fun, just the two of us?" Saxon asked, his breath hot against your ear. You shivered, squeezing your legs together.

"You know, I thought we were gonna have fun together the other day while everyone else was on the yacht," Saxon admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "But someone decided she wanted to play games instead. Isn't that right?"

"Saxon, I—"

"Do you know what it feels like to have something so close, yet so far away?" Saxon murmured, stroking your bottom lip. "From the moment I saw you I wanted to fuck you, but I knew I had to work for a girl like you to even spare me a glance. So I waited. Got to know you and shit."

Your breath hitched as Saxon moved closer, ghosting his lips over yours, barely touching. "The other day, I jerked off and came harder than I have in a long time. And you know why?"

You silently shook your head, your heart pounding due to the proximity between you and Saxon.

Saxon kissed you below your ear. "Because." Another kiss to your neck. "You decided." A third kiss, right above your cleavage. "To be."

Finally, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, licking your bottom lip before he pulled away. "A fucking tease."

You whimpered, and Saxon's lips curled into a devious smirk. "Aw, what's the matter, sweetheart? Where's that smart mouth of yours gone?"

You felt like you would explode if you didn't have Saxon's lips on you again. You climbed into his lap, kissing him deeply, before he cut it short.

"Saxon!" you whined.

Saxon chuckled, carefully lifting you off his lap. "You've had your fun, babe. Now it's my turn."

-

Saxon was definitely giving you a taste of your own medicine.

He had you bent over the guest bed, your face buried into the mattress, and a pillow to rest your knees on. And he was going slow—agonizingly slow. The tip of his cock lazily teased your entrance for what felt like hours. And when you begged him to get a move on, he withdrew his dick and started lazily pumping his fingers in and out of you.

"You know, I think I understand why people get off on this teasing shit," Saxon said, casually rubbing your clit and eliciting another whine out of you. "This is kinda fun."

Your lip wobbled. "Saxon—please. 'm sorry. I won't tease you anymore."

Saxon continued to massage your clit, making your legs shake. "Gonna have to beg a little harder than that, darling."

Something about that damned nickname had your pussy clamping down on Saxon's fingers. He groaned. "Shit, you're so tight and wet and warm for me already. I bet my dick is gonna feel even better inside of you."

"Just—please fuck me, Saxon," you begged, throwing any inklings of pride out the window. "Need your dick inside of me."

Saxon's eyes darkened, his grin growing wider. "Atta girl."

Saxon pulled his fingers out, licking your slick off of them, and started pumping his dick. Luckily, you were soaking wet, so he wouldn't have any trouble sliding inside of you.

You both moaned at the sensation of Saxon's dick pushing into your wet cunt. He took one of your legs and put it over his shoulder, and the angle felt absolutely sublime as Saxon started fucking into you, hitting your G-spot just right.

Saxon grunted. "You getting close, baby?" he asked, noticing your breathing becoming more labored and your legs trembling.

You hummed, your words failing you right now. "Then cum," Saxon commanded, rubbing quick circles against your clit.

You let out a wail as you came, not caring if the entire country of Thailand heard you in the throes of pleasure. Saxon groaned, loving the creamy ring you formed around his cock.

"Please tell me you're on the pill," Saxon muttered, desperately wanting to release inside you.

"Yes," you assured him, bucking your hips. "Need your cum inside."

Saxon growled, flipping you on your back and grabbing your hips as he rocked into you. "Mine," he muttered possessively. "Want you to be my girl."

You gasped, your pussy clamping down at Saxon's territorial tone. "I'm all yours, Saxon," you said breathily, pulling him into a brief, messy kiss.

That's what broke the dam for him. He came with a grunt, kissing your neck as his cum spilled inside of you in thick spurts.

Saxon collapsed on the bed next to you, a dazed smile on his face. "Shit, I feel like you drained a week's worth of cum out of me.. I can't remember the last time I was so pent-up."

You laughed softly, kissing his shoulder. "I hate to stroke a rich white man's ego, but that was probably the best sex I've had, like, ever."

Saxon grinned smugly, putting his arms behind his head. "Careful, don't say stuff like that unless you want me to get hard again."

You rolled your eyes. "Behave yourself, and maybe we can do this again later."

Saxon snorted, looking at you warmly before getting up. "Where are you going?" you asked, suddenly feeling panicky.

"Just getting some towels to clean you up," he replied, flashing a lopsided grin. "Did you think I was gonna ditch you?"

You looked away bashfully, not wanting to admit that that's exactly what you were afraid of. You'd been through this before with a few fuckboy frat boys, who hardly ever wanted to cuddle afterwards and definitely weren't thinking about providing aftercare. That was a big reason you withheld yourself from Saxon for so long. You'd been falling for this boy and were terrified of letting your heart get stomped on once he finally got what he wanted.

Saxon returned from the guest bathroom with a warm towel, cleaning you up. "Make sure you go piss," he said, lightly shoving you when you rolled your eyes at him. "Don't be a brat. Gonna ask Chloe if she's got some water for you, if you want it."

Your heart squeezed with affection. "I appreciate it," you said.

After you'd used the bathroom and sipped on some Perrier Saxon got for you, the two of you headed back to his family's place, cuddling in his bed. There were only a few days of vacation left, and Saxon was determined to make the most of them with you.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Topper’s sister (one or two years younger you pick) who does Only Fans and Rafe finds out. He subscribes and watches her content (because she’s hot and off limits since she’s Topper’s little sister) in secret, then blackmails her saying he’s gonna tell Topper. One weekend, she comes to Rafe and Topper’s place to surprise Topper for his birthday, but he’s not there and rafe blackmails her into giving him a blowjob

This is the longest work I've written in a while, I hope you enjoy

p.s. There is a possibility to make a part 2 for this one. Let me know if you are interested

Warnings: 18+, smut, blackmail, oral (m receiving),

—

After showering, Rafe tossed his towel into the hamper and fell on his bed. Topper was out with Cynthia — or maybe it was Vanessa —, which left him alone for the night. Rafe wasn’t complaining though, being alone was nice sometimes. Especially when he wanted to jerk off. 

He could have done it in the shower, but having visual material made the release better. 

Phone in hand, Rafe scrolled for something to watch. Sadly, none of the girls he was following had put up new content, so he looked for new accounts. He found a cute one, brunette with blue eyes, but she had overly huge tits and Rafe wasn’t into that — no offense to the girl. He almost went looking elsewhere when his eyes caught a familiar face.  

Rafe hit the profile and the biggest smirk turned on his lips. 

No fucking way. 

‘’Caught your dirty little secret,’’ he said to himself, his blue eyes staring at the free photoset you had to attract subscribers. Your sheer white bra left not much to the imagination and the curve of your ass had Rafe’s cock twitching. He’s been wanting to hit it since you wore that bikini at this beach parry last summer. 

Without hesitation, he subscribed and opened the first video.

You were sitting cross-legged on your dorm bed with nothing but a baby pink bodysuit, which hugged your figure perfectly. Your hard nipples were poking through the thin fabric, as if they were trying to say ‘hello’ to your viewers. You winked at the camera as your right hand slowly went down your chest, making a show of pinching your covered nipple and catching your bottom lip with your teeth as you let out a little moan. 

The sound made Rafe grip his cock and start to slowly jerk it. He was weak for nice tits…and yours were very nice. 

You pulled your other breast free from the fabric, your delicious nipple popping free as you asked the camera if they'd like to suck on them. Without waiting for an answer — not that you would be getting any since it was pre-recorded —, you looked down at it and dribbled spit onto yourself. 

 If Topper knew he was jerking off to his little sister, he would rip his head off. 

And your parents? If they knew about your secret online business, they would cancel all payments to your prestigious college and bring your ass back to Kildare. Dr. Cynthia Thornton’s daughter could not be part of the world of prostitution. It would look terrible for their name. 

Normally, Rafe loved to ruin people’s lives just for fun, but he was enjoying the view too much. All the photo-sets of you in delicate lingerie, the occasional topless ones, the close-ups of your fingers — and sometimes toys — in your pussy and the sweet moans that came from your mouth every time you were pleasuring yourself were part of his night routine. As perverted as it sounded. 

Weeks passed, and soon Topper’s birthday was coming up. The boys planned on going out to a club and celebrating there, but the plan changed when you showed up to your brother’s apartment for a birthday surprise.

‘’Where’s Top?’’ you asked, walking in like it was your own place. 

With a frown on his face, Rafe watched and closed the door behind you. ‘’At the gym with Braxton,’’ he replied. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Am I not allowed to surprise my brother for his birthday?’’ 

‘’We already have plans, and you’re not part of it.’’ 

Although Rafe had reserved a private booth, there was no way Topper would allow you to come to the club. 

Brushing off his objection, you grabbed your small suitcase and scanned the apartment. ‘’Where’s the guest bedroom?’’

‘’Here,’’ Rafe said, pointing at the couch. 

‘’I’m not sleeping on the couch.’’ 

‘’We turned the third bedroom into a gaming room. It’s the couch or the floor. You pick.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow, considering your options. The floor got crossed immediately — women do not sleep on floors. The couch, although soft and comfortable looking, had probably been used to have sex. It was a college boys apartment. 

‘’Then, I’ll be taking your bedroom.’’ 

 ‘’Absolutely not, Princess. This is my apartment, I'm not sleeping on the couch.’’

You crossed your arms, challenging his resistance. ‘’Come on, Rafe. I’m only staying for two days. I need to be back for Sunday, I have—’’ 

‘’Video content to film?’’ 

You gave Rafe a confused look to conceal your inner panic. ‘’A paper due Monday,’’ you said.

Rafe leaned against the couch, his eyes scanning you up and down. ‘’I know about your dirty little secret,’’ he said smugly, explicit images of yourself flashing in his head. ‘’I found your Only Fans account last month. By the way, you look better in light pink than sapphire blue, it washes you out.’’

At this very moment, you wished you could disappear with a snap of your fingers. With the details he was providing, it was impossible that Rafe was bluffing. You thought your account was well hidden, that your username was well thought and would never give you away. How did he find you? 

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, looking at Rafe with knives for eyes. 

‘’You didn’t think anyone would find out, did you?’’ 

‘’Did you tell Topper?’’ 

Fear started creeping in your stomach at the thought of Topper knowing about that part of your life. 

Rafe shook his head. ‘’Your secret’s safe with me…on one condition.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. Nothing was ever free with Rafe. He always wanted something in exchange. 

The corner of his mouth curled and you shook your head immediately, easily guessing what he had in mind. ‘’Absolutely not.’’ 

‘’Come on. I’m keeping my mouth shut, the least you can do is open yours.’’ 

Your jaw dropped at his crude words. ‘’That’s blackmail!’’ 

Rafe shrugged, not caring that he was playing dirty. ‘’You do what you want. I’m not gonna be the one in trouble after I make a little call to Topper to tell him his little sister opens her legs for money—’’ 

‘’Fine,’’ you said, gritting your teeth.

Somehow, this was more embarrassing than anything you had done on camera. 

Swallowing your pride, you kneeled before him, trying to ignore the cocky winning smile on Rafe’s face as you came face to face with his clothed lower region.  He was already thick behind his sweatpants — you could see the outline through the gray fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his sweatpants down, uncovering his cock and balls. You gulped at the sight. He was long and thicker than average, which explained where his confidence came from — aside from his daddy’s big money.

‘’Like what you see?’’ Rafe asked, proud of his appendage. 

Without breaking your annoyance, you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t let him know that you were impressed by his size. He would never let you live this one down.

You wrapped a soft palm around his shaft, letting your thumb stroke over his tip and back down until he reached full hardness. Reluctantly, you dipped your head and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting the pre-cum that leaked from it before going to the base of his shaft. You didn’t take everything into your mouth — yet —, but tried to fit as much as you could. 

A soft groan left Rafe's mouth, feeling the pleasure of yours. His hand came to the back of your head, gripping your hair into a ponytail and encouraging you to continue your movements up and down. You sped up your pace, saliva spilling from your mouth as precum leaked into your mouth and ran down your throat, secretly starting to enjoy yourself. 

You clenched your thighs together, wetness slowly pooling in your panties. 

Above you, Rafe moaned, his grip tightening on your hair as you slid down as deep as you could manage. ‘’That’s it, baby. Put that mouth to good use.’’ 

Had your mouth not been busy, you would have told him to get fucked. Instead, you let him fuck your mouth like you were a inflatable doll from a sex shop until your jaw was starting to ache and you had to pull away. 

Unsatisfied with your ungranted break, Rafe tapped his cock against your cheek, smearing pre-cum and saliva on your face. ‘’Did I tell you to stop?’’

‘’No, but—’’ 

‘’Then get back to business.’’ He pressed his cock against your mouth, but you didn’t let him in. ‘’Or…maybe I should call Topper and send him a link to your side business?’’

You sat on your heels, letting out a defeated sigh. ‘’My jaw hurts, okay? I can’t anymore,’’ you explained, although doubting Rafe would be compassionate. He didn't care about you, he just wanted to empty his balls. ‘’But maybe we can’t look at other options?’’ You pulled down the front of your shirt, exposing your bra to him.

Rafe's eyes darted down your chest, catching his bottom lip between his teeth knowing what was beneath your bra. ‘’I'm listening.’’

But before the negotiations could begin, you heard the apartment door opening: Topper was back. Quickly, you fixed your shirt and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand while Rafe pulled his sweatpants back up.

—

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[paulmccart]

We're Not Gonna Take It! And the Story of How We Almost Did

Protesters outside of the PMRC senate hearings.

Are you a victim of rock? Well maybe you aren't, but all the way back in 1985 a group of prominent D.C wives felt that they were.

These women, with the help of Beach Boys member Mike Love and Joseph Coors, the owner of Coors Beers, formed the PMRC (Parents Music Resource Center).

Their reasoning for forming as co-founder Susan Baker put it:

"It started because one day my 7-year-old came in and started quoting some of Madonna's lyrics to me, wanting to know what they meant. And I was shocked. I knew that you had to be concerned about movies and TV, but I didn't have a clue that my 7-year-old would be exposed to inappropriate songs."

The goal of the PMRC was to give parents more control over what their children could listen to. As well as implementing a rating system for music with bad language, sexual themes, and anti-Christian messages just to name a few. Eventually the group made a list of the fifteen worst songs, in their opinion and labeled them "The Filthy Fifteen".

(And it also happens to make a killer playlist)

Besides a rating system and lyrics printed on album covers the PMRC had several other goals including:

"...records with explicit covers be wrapped or kept under the counter; that record companies reassess contracts with performers who engage in sexual or violent acts on stage; that broadcasters be pressured to exhibit "voluntary restraint" by not airing offending music videos, which would also be rated."

All that noise coming from the PMRC culminated on September 19th, 1985. When a hearing in the senate occurred. Two musicians were called in on behalf of the music industry, Frank Zappa and Dee Snider of Twisted Sister. Two of musics most studious and serious creatives.

Zappa and Snider both gave eloquent defenses of what they deemed to be free speech.

But the PMRC had a trick up their sleeves... or so they thought.

They'd also invited John Denver to speak that day, assuming that he would stand with the side of "family values" but they were mistaken.

John Denver's testimony was the most scathing that day. He cited his own experience with having some of his music banned from radio. Even going as far as comparing the PMRC and groups like it to Nazi book burnings.

So what did the PMRC end up accomplishing? You know those tiny explicit labels in the corner of some albums? You can thank the PMRC for those. When they were originally introduced they were called "Tipper Stickers" after one of more outspoken PMRC members Tipper Gore (wife of Al Gore).

So while we didn't exactly take it, for a time we almost did. And thanks to testimony from Frank Zappa, John Denver, and Dee Snider, we can regularly enjoy any kind of music we want to- even the songs that promote the occult.

Both photographs come from Mark Weiss who photographed the event for Rock Scene Magazine.

[louisupdates]

ALL OF THOSE VOICES

Louis Tomlinson’s feature length documentary

• Louisupdates Tumblr:

“It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was not prepared for it, not at all.” [x]

“It had always been in my mind that it would be cool if we weren’t the standard boyband that got given songs and sang them.” [x]

“Life always throws shit at you. Yes, I’ve had more to deal with than most people my age. But then, when the natural things happen in life, when things weren’t going my way, I couldn’t deal with it. I was like, I’ve already had so much to deal with in my life, so when am I going to start winning?” [x]

Louis at CCME with Liam Payne, & on the Late Late Show 2019 [x]

Louis plays Premios Telehit in Mexico City 2019, and Louis’ family describes Louis’ relationship with his mother Johanna [x]

Louis conversing with his family about the transition from breaking into the music industry to taking charge of his own life; rehearsing with voice coach Helene Horlyck for tour; clips from the Scala benefit concert for War Child in February 2020; and clips from the first Louis Tomlinson World Tour concerts in Barcelona and Madrid, March 2020, before the pandemic brought everything to a stop. [x]

Louis spends time with son Freddie in Los Angeles, including a magical moment flying a kite on the beach. “When you’re running with it, it looks really good, you should have a look! ‘Cuz sometimes you’re just running forward, and you’re missing all the action!” [x]

Louis describing writing Faith In The Future in Mexico during lockdown, & the first LTWT22 concert, on 1 Feb 2022 in Dallas, Texas [x]

Louis starts to record his new album at Wendyhouse Studios in London [a repeat, x]

Louis in the studio with Theo Hutchcraft, recording his single, Saturdays [x]

Louis starts the Louis Tomlinson World Tour in February 2022. First stop: Dallas. [x]

Fans camping for shows [x]

Louis being one of the lads when touring on the road. [x]

16th March 2022, Los Angeles, USA. For the first time Freddie is coming to see his dad performing on stage. [x]

Louis works on Faith In The Future while on his first world tour. [x]

Louis and team start the tour in Iceland at the Blue Lagoon [x]

“It’s become a bit of a thing, for some reason, I’ve started challenging people to races. ‘Cuz I used to be quick when I was about 16-years-old, and obviously fourteen years later, I’m not as quick as maybe I think I am.” [x]

In Poland, Louis finds out he has a fracture in his right arm that will need to be immobilized (it won’t be the last time). [x]

LTWT22: from Doncaster to Latam [x]

Louis arrives to start tour in Latin America! And LTHQ interviews some experts on Latam fan culture who are not from South America. [x]

Louis takes in the successful Latam leg of LTWT and takes the band for an outing in Brazil. [x]

Louis and the band bond in Brazil. [x]

Louis and LT band sit down to listen to the final minutes of the new album (and the adorable Mr. Dinnadge). [x]

AFHF 2022: MALAGA [x]

AFHF MALAGA, and the sublime, unreleased Change [x]

One Direction comes to an end. [x]

Louis marvels how he started LTWT with venues of “2000 cap” in the USA and ended with 30,000+ in Milan (3.9.2022). [x]

The End [x]

• AOTV TikTok:

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25, part 26, part 27, part 28

• TOKYO PREMIERE (13.3.2023): Tumblr

• MEXICO CITY PREMIERE (20.3.2023): Tumblr

• LONDON PREMIERE (13.5.2023): Insta, Tumblr

INSTAGRAM TEASERS:

27.3.25: “It was so fucking fun.”

28.3.25: “I was like, well if I’m not gonna fucking sing, then what else, what else can I do for this band? … It had always been in my mind that it would be cool if we weren’t the standard boyband that got given songs and sang them.”

29.3.25: “Where I left One Direction was I’d come off the stage feeling like… a God.”

30.3.25 “This is my first headline show. Ten songs with you guys! I just want to say thank you. The rain has been fucking awful. Thank you for staying. Let’s have a good time! I’m going to be singing a few of my singles, a few of my new ones.” Louis at CCME in Madrid, 2019.

31.3.25 “There’s always been a fantastic bond between Louis and his mum.”

2.4.25: A look at Louis Tomlinson’s debut solo show at Scala, London - February 2020

3.4.25: Louis starts to record his new album at Wendyhouse Studios in London

5.4.25: “I hear a lot about when they have a tour bus, they convert the back lounge into a bedroom for them. If they want to do that, that’s fine, but Louis didn’t do that. We had the back lounge as a back lounge. He just had a bunk like everyone else.”

6.4.25: “It was a really nice feeling going from not touring at all, to what felt like every leg of the tour in terms of size, getting bigger and bigger and bigger.”

7.4.25: “I never had this luxury of playing Doncaster in the band. From the first two songs I was out there, it just felt so f**king special.”

8.4.25: “It feels so good to be back in these places because I’m lucky enough to have people here who want to see me”

9.4.25: “Bringing my mates along means sharing those moments and remembering not to take any of it for granted.” Louis and his team helicopter to a lush escape aboard a Brazilian yacht.

11.4.25: “Standing there today, It hit me hard. This is everything I’ve ever worked for. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

13.4.25: Creating ‘Faith In The Future’ whilst on tour.

14.4.25: “What’s been so nice about this tour is feeling the chemistry bubbling between us as a band... Having these moments of togetherness makes the show better.”

15.4.25: “Getting rid of my self-doubt and embracing my confidence naturally leads to better writing because it means you’re willing to be brave.”

16.4.25: “When I’m on stage, the energy in the room is undeniable. It’s pure passion and overwhelming support.”

17.4.25: Louis Tomlinson on The Late Late Show with James Corden, Los Angeles — October 2019.

19.4.25: Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan backstage before playing the same festival in Mexico.

20.4.25: Louis gets ready for his first solo tour with vocal rehearsals.

23.4.25: “Part of the magic was that you were going through this mind altering situation but that’s what made it feel amazing.”

[mellow-killjoy]

Behind The (Sea) Scenes

Reader is part of Panic! - snippets of a tour (written as parts of a behind the scenes tour video - if that makes any sense) this is purely self indulgent so i don't even care that it's bad

Ryan ross x reader - word count: 985

I smile as the video camera light blinks on. I stare at the lens for a moment before spinning it around pointing it at Ryan, who was sitting next to me in the van. It takes him a second before he notices, looking at me through the corner of his eye “are you about to black mail me or something?” He teasingly asks as he stares at the outdated camcorder in my hand. I can't help but snicker at his words “no, not yet… I'm just filming while we're on tour. Like one of those home videos that people show their kids like… 20 years later.” the camera shakes slightly as I move around in my seat “we can show our kids in the future! well… if any of you losers ever actually have kids”. A chorus of offended noises from the guys fill the van.

My laughter is cut off when my camcorder is pulled away from my hands, I turn to look over at Spencer who was now pointing the camera at me. He pulls back the moment I try to snatch it back “be careful with that, it's delicate” Ryan leans over my shoulder to look at the camera “Delicate? You mean falling apart. I mean seriously, you've had that since highschool. Why don't you get a new one?” A slight blush forms on my cheek as my hands cover the camera, slightly muffling the mic hole “well I can't just get a new one, it's the one you got me for my 17th birthday”. Ryan just smiles and shakes his head, turning to look out the window “aww aren't you two adorable” Spencer mocks us as he pulls the camera away from my hands, before shoving it into my face. “shut up Spencer” I let out an irritated groan as I finally got the camera back, stopping the recording.

I walked across the stage as the guys set up for sound check, moving towards Ryan, who smiled at me, eyes darting between me and the camcorder “you wanna hear the weird dream i had last night?” I perk up a bit “can i record it?” He gives me a sly smile as he shook his head at me, causing a pout to form on my face as i turn the camera off

Brendon had somehow gotten his hands on my video camera, zooming in on me from a distance as I stood behind the set up of piano and keyboards. He takes a few steps towards me, the camera shaking in his unsteady hands. I glance up at him, a dumb grin on his face as he continues walking closer. I bite my lip to hide my own smile as I try to ignore him, turning my attention back to the keyboard in front of me. I stifle a laugh as the camera is only a few inches away from my face “do you need something Bren?” I look up at him finally, the face splitting grin on his face causing me to smile back at him “why would you think that?” I raise my eyebrow at him “oh you know… intuition”

It was late at night when we were sitting on the beach, the sun only just starting to set. It was relatively empty, given how cold it was. I was walking next to Ryan, unaware of the video camera pointed directly at us. Picking up the voices of Jon, Spencer and Brendon who had, of course, thought it'd be hilarious to film us. “aren't they just the cutest?” Brendon’s voice picks up from behind the camcorder “no, I'm sick of them. They're so oblivious it's almost sad” Jon's dry humored voice cuts in. “You'll get used to it eventually, they've been like this since they started high school” Spencer can't help but have his own dig at us, having known us since we were kids.

The camera zooms in on us as we stand near the shore line, talking with each other about something the camera can't pick up. Jon lets out a groan “if they don't kiss soon, it's gonna drive me insane” Brendon laughs as the two start joking with each other. Spencer however was still paying attention to the camera in his hands, letting out an over exaggerated gasp as he watched Ryan tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The camera zooms in even closer, now only capturing from our torsos up as Ryan leans in closer to me.

“Guys! Holy shit guys check this out” Spencer hurriedly tried to regain their attention “oh my god, are they actually about to” Brendon whispers out excitedly. The next few moments are silent as they watch with bated breath. The camera captures the moment Ryan leans in, pressing his lips against mine. The obnoxious cheering has us pulling away, both turning bright red. Turning to face them, I barely notice the camcorder in Spencer's hand, pointing it out to Ryan as soon as I do. His laughter only just picking up on the video.

I held the camera up, pointing towards the road as we all walked down the street. My free hand, holding Ryan's. “I should probably get you a new camera” he mutters as he takes in its shabby appearance. The camcorder had been thoroughly used while we were on tour, practically never leaving my side, unless one of the other guys got their grubby hands on it. And because of that it had gained quite a few new scratches, its body sloppily littered in random stickers that the guys had stuck on it, barely avoiding the various buttons. I turn to him, the camera turning with me to capture his face “hmm, only if you get it for my birthday again” he lets out a soft laugh “yeah? i think i can do that for you”

[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

thinking about riding around on the back of rafe’s motorcycle <3

at first, it’s a hard no.

you just hopped out of his f-150, and the bike’s shiny red paint catches your eye. “rafe?”

“hm?” he rounds the truck, fixing his backwards cap as he makes his way over to you.

“you never told me you have a bike.”

you smile giddily, mind racing with the thought of how good he must look riding it. it’s hot that he can maintain his upscale exterior while feeding into your bad boy fantasies. you’re almost upset he didn’t mention it. rafe tongues his cheek, shrugging like it’s nothing special. “okay, so?”

you deflate, sputtering and motioning your arm at the bike dramatically. “so, we should go on a ride sometime.”

he squints at you in disbelief, not expecting you to be so excited by a motorcycle. “yeah—no. you know how dangerous that is, baby?” he laughs, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “cant even go on the shitty fair coasters and you wanna go on a ride?”

“don’t be mean, rafe.” you pout, and he just rubs your arm sweetly, still smiling at his own joke.

“m’not mean, just lookin’ out for you.” he turns you away, but your eyes linger on the bike, genuinely disappointed.

things change when he gets a text from you late one night a few weeks later, his phone screen reading:

"rafee whrer are u?"

"pickme uup? :) pls"

he's been waiting for this text all night. he told you not to go to this stupid party on the cut, but your friends insisted you couldn't miss it. the whole island already thinks he’s a psycho (including your friends), and he wouldn't confirm that by being overly controlling. he played along.

still, he was having a hard time knowing you were out drunk and alone. the few hours since you left were spent impatiently tapping his foot and staring at business emails he couldn't focus on. his blood was boiling at the thought of some pogue trying to talk to you. your invitation for rescue was exactly what he needed. the only problem is that ward took the pickup this morning, going on some impromptu trip to the bahamas and leaving the truck at the airstrip for his return. his only option is to zip over there on his bike. and that’s what he does!

he tears through the side of the island, pushing the throttle as far as it'll go to the cut.

he pulls up to the boneyard in record time, kicking his bike to stand and unlatching his helmet before following the booming music to the beach. he wouldn't be caught dead here on his own accord, and this reminds him exactly why. drunk teenagers sprawl the entire beach, most congregating around a raging bonfire. it doesn't take him long to find you lingering toward the treeline, your friends nowhere to be seen. he flips his keyring around his finger as he approaches you, then stuffs his hands in his pockets. you meet him with a sour look at first, glassy eyes squinted as you try to recognize who it could be, but you melt once you realize it's him.

"rafey!" you exclaim, shuffling through the sand with a dopey drugged-up smile. he meets you halfway, bringing an arm around your shoulders to pull you in. you happily attach yourself to his side, using his torso to stay upright. "missed you so much.”

"you good? the fuck did you take?" he chuckles, looking down and taking note of how low the neckline of your tank top is.

“jus’ some drinks, nothing good.”

“yeah—yeah, good.”

you slip your hand into his, and he wastes no time starting to drag you off the beach. you dont protest, your brain going blank now that he’s here. he pulls you up to the road, and the second your eyes land on the familiar red coloring of his bike, you’re ecstatic.

“you brought it!” you shout, covering your mouth after with a giggle.

“alright, yeah—relax.” he tries to bite back a smile, not wanting to be so obvious about going against his own word. he grabs his helmet from where it’s hanging on the handlebar, unclipping the chin strap and approaching you again. “c’mere, you’re gonna need this.”

you inch closer obediently, looking up at him with doe eyes as he secures the black helmet over your head, pulling on it to make sure it’s secure and tightening the strap. you feel like you’re dreaming, afraid to say anything and somehow change his mind about the whole situation. he knocks on the helmet, his gold ring clinking on the plastic and rattling your head. “feel good? you ready?”

all you can do is nod, the helmet’s weight helping. “m’ready.”

next thing you know, you’re out on the open road. the cut is so beautiful at night, it’s further away from the mainland so it’s easier to see the stars. you’re pressed into rafe’s back, the cheek of the helmet resting between his shoulder blades as you admire them. your arms are around his middle, hands clasped together tight like he told you to. without thinking you let your hands fall to his lap, and when the wind wrinkles the fabric, you slip your chilled hands underneath. lost in your own little world, you can’t help but feel him up a little bit, his abs warm under your gentle touch.

he doesn’t say a thing, only slowing to a stop at a red light. without warning, he curls his fingers under the chin of the helmet, tugging roughly so your chest smacks into his back. your neck pulls over his shoulder, and satisfied giggle falls from your lips. he him pulls on it again. “what do you think you’re doin? huh?”

"nothing!” you whine, pulling your hands off his torso innocently. “s’just cold!”

“cold. sure.” he tugs again to cement his warning, the light turning green and saving you from any further interrogation. for now. “think i can help you out with that back at the house, yeah?”

˚❀˚

[ponstermenis-writing]

✩ (There’s No Place Like) Home For The Holidays ✩

Darrel Curtis & Everyone Johnnyboy, Stevepop, Darbit

̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙冬˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆̣̥

Ever since their folks died, Darry’s been handling the holidays.

The first year they didn’t do anything—they died relatively close to thanksgiving, so it felt wrong to celebrate. But ever since then he goes overboard .

None of them are complaining, a lot of greasers don’t celebrate at all—Johnny and Steve both didn’t even know what Christmas was before the Curtis folks introduced it to them. The only reason Dallas knew was because, well, New York is kind of the place for Christmas.

Their mother loved the holidays. She and Dad would take off work and spend the day with them—it was a lot like those hallmark movies she forced them to watch. Darry didn’t dare let those memories die—he’d put up all the decorations on the first weekend of December, The Beach Boys and Brenda Lee would be on the record player until January.

It was currently December 23rd. Darry didn’t plan on waiting this long to put up decor. But he’d been swamped with work and he knew Pony and Soda would half-ass it. He enlisted Steve, Johnny, and Two-Bit to help.

“Do people even use Nutcrackers?” Two-Bit asked, opening and closing the mouth. “It’s more of a looks thing, Two.” Soda laughs, trying desperately to hang up lights over the fireplace. “Yeah, lord knows Darry doesn’t have enough decorations already.” Two-Bit teases, laughing nervously when Darry glares at him.

“When you finally get your own place, you’re gonna wish I was still around.” Darry gripes, untangling lights for the roofline. “Aw, you wouldn’t come with me?” Two-Bit says, putting his hands in a prayer motion with an obnoxious pout in his face. “I couldn’t deal with the mess you bring.” Darry can’t help but laugh at his own comment—Two-Bit is less amused, an offended sound coming out of his mouth.

“Do you boys want to help me put these up?” Darry asks before Two-Bit can say anything in return. Johnny and Ponyboy share a look—they always managed to communicate without ever actually saying anything. “Sure.” Ponyboy says, standing. “Beats translating Feliz Navidad for Soda again.” Johnny adds.

Soda whips around to frown at him, looking utterly heartbroken. “The lyrics never change, man.” Johnny laughs, bumping into him as they pass by.

Getting onto the roof was always a struggle. Ponyboy’s terrified of heights—but putting up the lights out there makes him feel grown. Darry lifts them up one by one, letting both boys stand on his shoulders and hoist themselves up. Darry can reach The roofline by using a small stepladder from work, so he’s never really had to climb up there.

Putting the outdoor lights up used to be Darry and Mr.Curtis’s job—it’s probably why he’s so insistent that one of the boys do it with him—like it’s a right of passage, or something.

He tosses the lights and the little plastic clips up to the boys and tells them where to put ‘em—he usually fixes the lights after they’re done anyway, but he knows the boys both like helping out.

They’re about halfway done when Johnny pauses, glancing down at the ground just past Darry.

“Jesus.” Dallas groans. “Going all out again this year, huh Darry?” He teases, standing beside him with his arms crossed. Dallas is what the gang lovingly called, a grouch. He doesn’t like the holidays, even when he was little he’d roll his eyes at the mention.

“Hey Dally!” Johnny calls down to him, leaning over the roofline to smile at him. Darry doesn’t miss how Dallas falters—like Johnny’s gonna fall and he’ll have to catch him. “Be careful! Jesus.” Dallas grunts, The other three laughing at him—Dallas was easily the least cautious of them all. But he’d wrap Johnny up in bubble wrap if he could.

“I thought you were going to New York for Christmas?” Johnny asks, ignoring his comment and still very much leaning over the roof.

“I couldn’t leave you guys all alone.” Dallas shrugs. Darry knows deep down that he loves the holidays with them—but he’s smart enough not to comment too obviously. “Besides, nothing up there I haven’t seen before.”

Darry can’t help but smile, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Dallas isn’t much younger than he is—but just like the rest of the gang, he’ll always be Darry’s little brother. “You wouldn’t mind helping us out, would you Dal?” He asks, glancing up at the roof.

Dallas scoffs. “No, Than—“ he pauses, seeing Johnny stare down at him hopefully. “Fine.” He groans, squeezing onto the stepladder beside him and hoisting himself up. He makes a point to drag Johnny and Pony both back a bit so they won’t fall.

Even if they did, they’d crash into snow-covered bushes just a few feet under them. If it were any higher, Darry’d be worried too—but Two-Bit skydived from the height when he was really drunk last summer, so he knew it was fine.

Dallas was actually pretty damn good at putting the lights up where they belong. “For someone who hates it, you sure do have an eye for Christmas decor.” Ponyboy jokes, narrowly dodging the smack Dallas aimed at the back of his head.

Just as their hands were beginning to freeze off, they were finished. Darry helped them all back down—Much to Dally’s chagrin, he did not like help in any sense of the word. They all stood back to take in the house.

“Looks shit.” Dallas says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’ll look better at night.” Pony retorts matter-of-factly. “Speaking of,” Darry says, heading inside while the others trail after him. “You both are staying over tonight, right?”

“I don’t see why not.” Dallas shrugs, slinging his arm around Johnny's shoulder. They all look at the boy expectantly. “I think my Ma wants me home.” He mutters, not looking at them. Dallas scoffs, Ponyboy frowns—but Darry has learned how to get him to stay.

“Aw… I already started making some Mac & Cheese for you.” Darry sighs—he hates guilting Johnny—really, he does. But hey, it works. “Yeah! I thought you were gonna walk with me tonight, too!” Ponyboy adds, looking at the boy expectantly.

“I-I’m sure they won’t miss me too much.” Johnny says finally, giving them an awkward smile. Darry and Pony share a secret high-five—they officially had the whole gang together for Christmas. Two-Bit and Steve often go off with their families for the actual night of Christmas Eve, but the night before works just as well.

“Geez, if I hear one more Christmas song, I’m gonna riot.” Dallas says as they walk inside—hearing Perry Como croon on about being home for the holidays. “My house, my rules.” Darry says, shucking off his jacket. “Which means the Christmas music stays on .” Dallas groans loud enough to alert everyone else of his presence.

“Well, if it isn’t New York’s sweetheart!” Two-Bit calls from the living room. “Glad to know you stayed home, Dal.” He teases, nudging him lightly as he walks back. Two-Bit was the first person of the gang Dallas became pals with—Two was one of the few people who could poke fun at him without getting clocked.

“Yeah, Knew you fella’s would be lonely without me.” Dallas says—Darry doesn’t miss the glance back at Johnny, Dally’s un-official-but-also-un-questionable little brother. Two-Bit just smiles, handing him a balled up chunk of tinsel. “We sure missed the extra pair of hands!”

Dallas groans but does as he’s asked. Johnny goes back to putting up the candles, Pony tries his best to hang ornaments on the tree.

The candles actually weren’t something the Curtis folks ever did—in fear of burning the house down. But ever since Johnny told them that he was Jewish and the closest he’d ever gotten to a holiday with his folks was Hanukkah when he was really little, how could Darry say no?

Annually, at least two ornaments are smashed and one string of lights stops working. Two-Bit found this year's string, holding it up triumphantly. “Lookie here!” He calls, showing it to Darry before he trashes it. Darrel can’t help but chuckle. “It’s not a competition, you know.” He says, letting Two-Bit throw an arm around his shoulder—he’s a little shorter, so his arm has to reach awkwardly around his neck.

“Yeah, well. I still won.” He says, leaning in to smirk in Darry’s face. He’s shoved away a moment later when Ponyboy shuffles into the kitchen. They aren’t very… open about their relationship yet. Johnny and Soda both found out the hard way—but everyone else had no clue. It wasn’t homophobia they were worried about—it was the teasing.

“Can you make us some hot chocolate?” Ponyboy begs—he’s obviously talking about him and Johnny, but the poor boy can’t ask for anything even after all these years. Even when he was stuck in that wheelchair—he was insistent that nobody else move him around or help him carry things. He could walk on his own now, but his back still hurt when he’d stand for too long.

“Sure,” Darry says, smiling evilly. “If you can name all the reindeer I will.”

Ponyboy just groans, walking off. Two-Bit chuckles, grabbing two hot chocolate packets anyway. “I don’t get why he doesn’t make it himself.” He says, heating up some milk in the microwave—after many failed attempts at dinner, Two-Bit Matthews is not allowed to touch the stovetop. Ever.

“He claims that I make it best.” Darry shrugs. “He’s just too lazy to mix it all the way—there’s nothing I do different.”

“Really? Are you sure there isn’t a secret ingredient?” Two-Bit askes, making a kissy-face as he dumps far too many marshmallows into both cups. Darry just rolls his eyes.

Two-Bit walks the cups to the boys and Darry follows—partially to know he doesn’t spill it, partially because he feels lonely in the kitchen by himself. Ponyboy takes both of them gratefully, handing Johnny his cup.

Darry can’t help but feel love surge in his chest—he stands in the doorway that leads to the kitchen, watching over his boys. Johnny picks the marshmallows off and hands them to Dallas, leaning his head on his shoulder while he unravels tinsel. Ponyboy leans against Johnny's legs—he’s on the floor while Dallas and Johnny are on the couch—and sips idly at his own cup, humming along to the music. Soda and Steve keep trying to shove each other under the mistletoe, Two-Bit cheering them on.

“You look happy.” A voice says from behind him. Darry jumps halfway out of his skin, turning around so quickly that he almost smacks his head against the wooden door frame.

Tim Shepard gives him an amused look. Even he looks rather Christmas-y—he’s all bundled up with a hat and gloves that he definitely got from Mr.Curtis a few years back. He’s got a few presents in his hand and a slight smile on his face.

“You scared me.” Darry mutters, breathing out a sigh. “But yeah, I guess I am.” He spares a glance back—Dallas, Johnny, and Ponyboy are all staring at him. “Whatchu’ got there?” Darry asks Tim, trying to ignore the eyes on them.

Tim groans, handing him the boxes. “The bottom two are from Curly—to Johnny and Pony, I guess. But apparently they can’t know it’s from him.” He says, chuckling. “Top three are from me.” He says, not looking at him.

“Well, thank you.” He says, glancing down. “Can I ask who they’re for?”

Tim crosses his arms. “You, Dallas, and Johnny.” He shrugs—Darrel can tell he’s embarrassed. Tim might be one of the most hardcore guys currently in the house, but even he has his own nervous ticks. “I thought I owed you something—y’know, for all those times you gave us dinner and shit. Thanks, by the way—I don’t think I ever said that.” He rambles, still not daring to meet his eyes.

Darry can’t help but smile. “It was no problem.” He says simply, tucking the gifts under his arm. “I assume you have a reason to give something to Johnny and Dallas as well?” He says—he can’t help his teasing tone.

Tim glares at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “They’re good kids.” He says simply, leaning back on the banister by the front door. “Someone’s gotta hang out with Curly, Y’know? Better Cade than anyone else.” Tim shrugs. “Dal has dragged both of ‘em home more times than I can count.”

Darry nods, setting the gifts down. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” He says, dragging a plate from the cabinets. “I assume they shouldn’t know these are from you either?” He can’t help but smile—he dumps the rest of their leftover cookies on the plate and wraps it with saran wrap. Tim pretends not to notice. “Looks like they already do.” He chuckles, glancing back into the living room.

Tim takes the plate gratefully, tucking it under his jacket before saying goodbye with his head ducked down. He’s gone a second later—cat-like agility letting him out of the house before Darrel can even answer him.

“Aw, you gave him the rest?” Ponyboy pouts, walking into the kitchen once Tim is gone—Johnny shuffling in behind him. “I’ll make more.” Darry chuckles. He finds the gift with his name on it and removes it from the pile, handing the rest to the two boys. “These are for you.”

“Really?” Johnny can’t help but say hopefully, glancing back at the door. Darry knows deep down that he looks up to Tim about as much as he does Dallas—he was a Shepard before he was ever a Curtis. And Tim is arguably cooler than Dal. “Uh huh,” Darry smiles, hiding his own behind his back. “One of thems for Dally, okay?”

Johnny and Ponyboy nod and walk off into the living room. Darry can hear Dallas laugh when he’s handed the gift.

He waits till they can’t see him to open his own. It’s simple—just a packet of new socks. But he knows it’s a lot from the Shephards. It means Tim was listening too—sometimes he’ll help Darrel out at work for extra cash—he remembers complaining about the holes in his socks that he couldn’t replace. Darry smiles to himself, tucking the pack back into the wrapping paper—it had been so horribly done, but it was clear Tim tried—and putting it aside.

He’s halfway through getting out the things for a new batch of cookies when Dallas and Johnny enter the kitchen.

“Me and Johnnycakes are gonna go say thank you.” Dallas says, ruffling Johnny’s hair. “No you aren’t.” Ponyboy calls from the living room. “You’re gonna make fun of ‘em!”

Darry crosses his arms, raising a brow at the two. “Are you?” He asks, glaring only at Dallas. “I got something I gotta give to Curly.” Johnny mutters—poor boy thinks he’s angry at him too. Darry just places a kiss on his hairline and sends him off, reminding him to stay warm even for the short walk.

“C’mon Dar, he knew this was gonna happen.” Dallas says, smirking. “Don’t be rude, Dallas. You should be happy he thought of you at all.” Most of the time—Dallas and Tim aren’t on the greatest terms. Darrry knows that better than anyone, having to patch them both up after a nasty fight or two.

“Ya hear that, Dal?” Two-Bit says, sticking his head in the room. He holds a hand up to his ear and pretends to listen. “That’s Santa Claus calling you an asshole.” He teases. Dallas smacks him on the back of the head—just hard enough to sting. “I’ll take the naughty list and shove it right up your ass.” He bites, still glaring at the redhead.

Darry rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna go over there and say thank you.” He commands. Dallas isn’t scared of him by any means—but everyone knows it’s not the best idea to anger someone twice your size. “I’m sure Johnny won’t let you be rude, anyway.” Two-Bit laughs as Dallas saunters off.

“What’d Tim give yuh’?” He asks once Dallas is gone, eyeing the rewrapped gift. “Socks.” Darry says simply, grabbing the ingredients for the cookies. “How sentimental.” Two-Bit chuckles, hoisting himself up to sit on the countertop right where he’s trying to work. “I bet my gift is better.”

“I hope it isn’t similar to what you tried last year.” Darry groaned, shoving him lightly to get him off the parchment paper. “You loved my gift last year!” Two-Bit says defensively. “Besides, it turned out to be, like… the best coming out ever.”

“I’m sure Johnny and Soda would disagree with you.”

“They’ve got their own things going on.” Twobit shrugs, leaning back on the kitchen wall. Darry pauses, raising a brow.

“Come on… don’t say you haven’t noticed.”

“Notice what?”

“You know what!”

“No—No I…I really don't.”

Two-bit groans. “I mean, don’t stay Steve and Soda aren’t a little… suspicious.”

“You act like they’re committing a crime.” Darry can’t help but laugh. “I think it is, in some states.” Two-Bit shrugs. Darry just rolls his eyes. “What about Johnny, though? What’s going on with him?”

“Darry…” Two-Bit sighs, looking at him like he’s about to destroy his innocence. “Two teenage boys don’t lock the door when they’re alone for no reason.”

He has to pause and think for a second. He immediately slaps the man upside the head, causing him to topple forward and almost hit the floor. “I don’t want to hear that!” Darry whisper-yells, acutely aware of the gang still in the living room.

I mean… he assumed something was going on. But he really doesn’t want to know what his sixteen year old brother—who in his eyes, is still a baby—gets up to with his seventeen-almost-eighteen year old friend when they’re alone—he doesn’t want to hear about what Sodapop is up to either!

“Communication is key in every relationship—“ Two-Bit begins as he’s shoved out of the kitchen. “Hey, ow! You’re only upset because it’s true—“ he pauses, glancing up at the doorway.

Ponyboy is standing there with an amused look on his face, glancing at the two. “Was gonna ask where you wanted this.” He says, laughing as he holds up an ornament Sodapop made when he was real young. “I’ll just guess.” He’s gone a second later, letting Two-Bit finally right himself. He puts his hands up in defeat and shuffles out as well.

Darry is halfway through making the cookie dough when Dallas and Johnny show up again. Dallas now has a reasonably sized bruise on his jaw—he definitely did not listen. Johnnys still laughing when they get inside, pulling off his jacket.

“Looks like you two had fun.” Darry says, raising a brow at Dallas—the blonde just walks off with a groan. “Tim was the only one home.” Johnny says, holding up his little present still. “Bummer.” Darry chuckles, watching Dallas throw himself down on the couch.

Johnny lingers behind a second too long, glancing at the bowl in his hand. “Wanna help?” Darry asks, knowing Johnny won’t say anything on his own. “Uh—“ He mutters, glancing back into the living room. “I uhm… I promised Pony I’d help him with the ornaments. Sorry Darry.”

“No problem.” Darry says, going back to mixing. “Can you grab Steve and Soda while you’re in the other room?” He asks. Johnny nods quickly and scampers off before anything else can be said.

Steve and Soda are his sous chefs when it comes to dessert. Not because they’re good at it—but instead because they eat the batter or dough, and will not hesitate to complain if they don’t get any.

He hands the spoon to Soda the second he’s there, trusting him with it while he searches the cupboards for vanilla extract. He’s in the middle of his search when he hears giggling from the other room.

Upon further inspection, Johnny and Ponyboy seem to be messing around under the doorway to the hall all of their rooms are in. “Cut it out, Pone!“ Johnny laughs, red-faced and actively trying to shove the boy off. Pony is trying to pull him closer, making kissy faces and missing Johnny’s face entirely. “It’s mistletoe, John! We have to!”

Two-Bit is sitting on the couch next to Dallas—who is really into getting that tinsel untangled, giving Darry a knowing look. The older simply rolls his eyes, heading back in the kitchen. He doesn't remember ever owning or putting up mistletoe, and he’d bet money that he was right about who did.

“Jesus, how much did you two eat?” He gasps, staring at the—now half full—bowl. “I don’t appreciate the fat-shaming, Darrel.” Sodapop says, crossing his arms. Steve wipes some of the dough off of the corner of his mouth, nodding along. “Yeah, We’re growing boys!”

Darry can’t help but laugh, nudging the both of them out of the way. “You both are considered legal adults in the eyes of the law.” He says simply, mixing in the vanilla extract into the bowl before the two finish it off.

He’s able to get it into the oven with only a few instances of him slapping the boy’s hands away with a spoon. The best friends give up once the oven is shut, retreating back into the living room. Darrel sets the timer and heads back into the living room to check on the progress.

It truly does look beautiful—just like their mother had done. Johnny and Pony were still quietly placing ornaments on the tree, Steve and Soda were back to string garlands on the mantle, Dallas had finally got the tinsel unraveled and was trying his best to be careful putting it on the tree—realistically the tinsel should go first, but he's so proud of the boy for trying that he doesn't dare comment. Two-Bit is off to the side fucking with the nutcrackers—because he’s Two-Bit.

Darry watches silently from the doorway. His boys truly are some genuine souls, aren’t they? He used to be so confused when Mrs.Curtis would watch quietly, smiling to herself like she truly had it all. Darry finally understands that feeling—love swelling in his chest, he can’t help but feel his eyes get wet.

Two-Bit had somehow managed to sneak behind him. “Looks like a hallmark movie.” He says, leaning his chin on Darry’s shoulder and watching alongside him. “Yeah—Yeah, it really does.” Darry chuckles, his voice cracking as he's unable to hold back just how happy he is. Two-Bit smiles, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “You did good.” He whispers. “You raised some pretty hardcore kids. We really are like a big happy family.”

Darry has to take deep breaths to stop himself from sobbing—has he ever been this happy before? Has he ever felt so content?

Two-Bit just chuckles, placing something in his hands before walking off to get back to his work. It's thin and celluloid—upon closer inspection, it's a polaroid. It truly is something that should be something put in a museum.

It's a wide shot of the living room. He’s not sure when it was taken—Clearly it was Two-Bit’s work, but he’d been idly watching them all for half an hour now. In the middle of the picture is the tree. Dallas has his arm around Johnny’s shoulder while he’s pointing at one of the ornaments—it's one Mr.Curtis had gotten for Johnny on his first Christmas with them. You can only see the back of Dallas’s head, but you can just barely see the smile on Johnny’s face. Ponyboy is right beside him smiling just as wide, resting his head on Johnny’s shoulder while he listens in. To their right is the fireplace, setting a yellow-ish glow on the whole room—Steve and Soda are meticulously putting the garland in place and fixing the candles in-between, Soda’s got his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth—something he always did when he was focusing–and Steve is very clearly giving him orders.

To the left, just barely in frame, it's him. He really does look like his father—standing with his arms crossed and leaning against the wooden doorframe, a content smile on his face as he looks out at the whole scene.

Darry rushed off to his room before anyone could see. He sits down on his bed—staring down at the picture as tears fill his eyes. Something about having the memory caught in place forever really got to him. The fact that Two-Bit knew to take a picture, the warm glow the whole room gave, the content look on everyone's faces.

Darry didn’t consider himself an emotional being. That was Soda’s job—he was the dream-crusher who made sure everything went how it needed to. But in moments like these he couldn’t help loving them—he knows one day they’ll all move on and only visit him when they have to. But for now, all his boys are home. They’re home, they’re happy… they’re safe.

A few quiet knocks hit his door and he immediately knows who it is. He wipes away his tears and tucks the photo in his lap. “You can come in, Johnny.” He says, willing his voice not to crack. Johnny peeks his head in a moment later, looking all guilty.

“Are you okay?” He asks, frowning when he sees Darry’s sad look. He doesn’t really know how to explain this feeling to him—Johnny’s never had a family other than them, and everytime he gets comfortable here—his home, blood be damned—he’d always be forced back into the house with the two people who love him the most. “I’m alright baby, just a lot of feelings.” He replies, giving the boy the best smile he can muster.

Johnny gasps, shutting the door behind him. “Are you crying?” He whispers, brows furrowed and eyes wide. “Is this because I broke that ornament? I-I’m real sorry, Darry—It just slipping from my hands, I really didn’t—”

Darry interrupts him with a chuckle, holding his arms out for a hug. Johnny responds immediately, stepping up and letting Darry hug him. “No, it's not that.” Darry says, ruffling his hair. “I don’t care about some silly ornament.”

“Y-You sure…? I think I saw one like it at the corner store—”

“Johnny.” Darry interrupts, he knows the boy’ll talk himself back into that mindset that everything is his fault if he doesn’t. “I promise you, I’m not upset. Just happy tears.” He says, letting Johnny sit down on the bed beside him. He hands Johnny the photo, watching his face closely. “Gee…” Johnny mutters, smiling down at it. “Golly Darry, I think I’m gonna cry too.”

Darrel chuckles, ruffling his hair. “I think the cookies are done, if you want one.” He says, nudging him. “They should still be soft, I know you like them that way.” Johnny jumps to his feet–giddy with excitement. “Thanks Darry!” He says, handing him back the photo and rushing off to the kitchen. He can hear the boy excitedly tell Pony about the finished cookies and them both rushing to grab them.

He manages to fix himself up before he heads back out. “Everything alright?” Dallas askes as he passes, not looking at him. “Of course.” Darry smiles, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly. “Just, happy to have everyone here.” He says, deciding there's no point hiding the wetness of his voice from his earlier sob-fest. Dallas, who was never big on expressing his feelings, rolls his eyes with a half-hearted smile. “Jeez, You’re a big ol’ sap. Y’know that?”

“You’re not any better.” Darrel teases, shoving him lightly before heading back into the kitchen. Johnny and Pony are splitting one of the cookies in half, idly watching the TV from the kitchen counter. “Any good?” Darrel askes, taking one.

“Mph—“ Ponyboy grunts, nodding his head with his mouth full. “Very good.” He adds once he finishes chewing. Darry can’t help but laugh, ruffling his hair. “Make sure not to eat them all.”

“I can’t believe you’d think so low of us.” Ponyboy replies defensively, grabbing another from the tin. “Just don’t want you two having too much sugar,” Darrel chuckles, moving the tin away from both boys. “With the advent calendar and all the candy, more cookies is the last thing you need. You’ll ruin your appetite.”

“Bold of you to assume I didn’t finish the whole calendar on day one.” Ponyboy laughs around a mouthful of cookie, reaching for his cup of water when he chokes. Darry just sighs, taking his own and sauntering back to the living room.

He sits down on the couch beside Two-Bit, breaking the cookie in half and giving one to him. Two-Bit shoves the whole thing in his mouth without blinking, watch the lovey-dovey Christmas movie on the TV.

“Which one is this?”

“Christmas Angel.” Two-Bit mutters—though he pretends to sound uninterested, he refuses to take his eyes off the screen. Darrel raises a brow, watching the screen for a moment before deciding that this is a very horrible movie. “Didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

“ ‘M not.” Two-Bit says defensively. “Every channel is playing a somethin’ Christmas, this was just the least-worst one.”

Darrel was sitting there for about half an hour before he realizes that he’s actually watching this piece-of-shit movie. “Darry.” Two-Bit says as the credits roll, glancing over at him. “Hmm?” Darrel hums, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

“You’re my Christmas Angel.” Two-Bit whispers, making a kissy face. Darrel finally looks at him, grimacing. “Wow, that was…” he holds back a gag. “ Horrible . That was really horrible.”

“Just take the compliment.” Two-Bit groans, leaning away from him as if Darrel has betrayed him. Darry just rolls his eyes, a smile playing on his lips—he pulls himself to his feet a moment later, going through the box of Christmas ornaments.

He pulled the delicate star from the very bottom, covered in layers of bubble wrap and packing paper. Ponyboy is standing right behind him when he pulls it out, ready to take it in his hand. “C’mon Johnny!” He calls into the kitchen. “We gotta put the star on the tree!”

Johnny comes out of the kitchen a moment later, Dallas in tow. “Do I need to lift you up or something?” Johnny askes, glancing at the very delicate items in the boy’s hands. “I don’t think you can.” Ponyboy chuckles.

“Hey! I’ve been doing very well since the fire, y’know! Soda’s been taking me to the gym an—“

“That's not what I meant.” Ponyboy interrupts, placing a hand over the boy's mouth—he tears it away when he licks it, wiping it on Darry’s shirt because… well, why wouldn’t he? “You’re like—5’8” man, I’d crush you.”

“And a half!” Johnny adds, crossing his arms. “And I’ll have you know I picked Dally up once.”

“Barely.” Dallas chuckles from behind him. “My back still hurts from when you dropped me.”

“I don’t want to hear anything from anyone else about a hurt back.” Johnny grumbles, glaring at him. Two-Bit throws his head back laughing on the couch, pulling Steve and Soda out of Soda’s room.

Ponyboy just rolls his eyes, scooping Johnny up and helping him onto his shoulder. Johnny fights it at first, cutting it out the second he’s in the air in fear of plummeting to the floor. Johnny grasps onto Ponyboy’s head. “Don’t drop me!”

“I won’t.” Pony laughs, handing the star up to him.

It takes Ponyboy a minute to get to the tree, trying hard not to run into things with Johnny's hands very much over his eyes. It takes the boy a minute to lift his arm up, careful not to lean forward too much. He’s finally able to stick it on there, already begging to be let down.

Darry picks him up by the armpits and plops him on the ground as gracefully as he can. Johnny lets out a sigh of relief, thanking him.

They all stand back to look at the tree, fully lit with glittering tinsel and shiny ornaments. It’s already beginning to get dark outside—though it’s only five. Darry wants to stand and stare at it all night—but he knows these boys need to eat.

“I’ll go start dinner.” He says, wiping his hands on his shirt just to bush them. “You boys are free for the day.”

Ponyboy tugs on his shirt sleeve just before he walks off. “Can we go outside and play in the snow?” He whisper-asks—looking at him pleadingly. Darry—Already knowing this won’t end well, but also knowing how desperately they all wanted to go in the snow…

“Alright.” he sighs. “Just make sure you’re all bundled up, and don’t track snow through the house.” Ponyboy agrees excitedly, already running off.

Sure enough—Dallas, Pony, and Johnny all pass by him a moment later decked out in snow gear. Dallas gives him a thumbs up, as if to say ‘don’t worry, I’ll watch them’.

He’s halfway through mixing up the Mac & Cheese he promised when the three reminding members of that gang saunter into the kitchen. “Can we help?” Soda askes.

Darry smiles, ruffling his hair. “Of course you can.”

It went by a lot quicker with all hands on deck—Darry even managed to catch a photo of them all cooking, and one of the other three in the snow. He kept a close eye on his helpers—Two barely got the ham out in time, Soda put way too much sugar in the cake, Steve spent more time drinking the pasta sauce out of the ladle than he did making the noodles.

But they got it done.

They did it together, too.

“Boys!” Darry calls out, opening the window to stick his head out. Dallas was in the middle of pelting Ponyboy in the face with a snowball—it hit the second Darry finished talking. “Dinners ready.” Darry chuckles.

The three of them come barreling in a second later, smart enough to take off their shoes. Darry takes their jackets, sending them all into a room to change into warm clothes.

He tosses the jackets on the porch, shutting the door extra tight behind him to keep the snow out.

He puts down the—Christmas themed, of course—tablecloth, setting up plates and silverware. He puts the different pans full of food along the counter-top, very impressed with their work.

“Alright guys, one at a time.” He says just as the other three walk out of the rooms—wearing too-big sweaters and sweatpants. They all go one at a time and dump food onto their plate, sitting down at the dining table in their usual spots.

“Jesus, John—“ Dallas chuckles, picking leaves out of his hair. “Your hair is like a breeding ground for all the plants on the ground, man.” He says, ruffling it to see if any more leaves or twigs would fall out. “Never call my hair a ‘breeding ground’ again.” Johnny mutters, annoyed, smacking Dallas’s hand away—a piece of ham hanging from his mouth.

They eat mostly in silence, forks clinking against porcelain as they all dig in. Darry knows he isn’t the best cook on the planet—but watching them all tear it apart like they’re starved definitely makes him feel a bit better about it.

Darry collects all the plates when they’re done, dumping them in the sink—he tells himself he’ll wash them before bed, but he’s almost 100% sure he won’t. “Everyone in the living room,” he says, helping Johnny out of his seat. “I have a present for you all.”

“Is it a puppy?” Ponyboy asks excitedly, rushing to sit down on the couch. “Not necessarily…” Darry smiles—he has to hide his smirk. Realistically he knows they will all hate this gift. But hey, if he had to spend his entire early-adult life raising them, he gets to embarrass them once or twice.

He hands them all a wrapper box with their names on it. “You guys don’t have to look so scared.” He chuckles, watching Soda be the first to slowly peel back the paper.

“You’re joking.” He says, deadpanned. “You did not actually do this.”

“What is it?” Ponyboy asks, leaning over his brothers shoulders. Soda pulls out the contents of the box and holds it up for all of them to see. A chorus of loud groans fill the room, heads falling back against the cushions.

“You got us matching pajamas?” Two-Bit asks, raising a brow. He’s easily the most on board—beside Darry, of course. Mostly because there aren’t many ways to embarrass him past what he’s already done.

“You cannot make me wear this.” Dallas says simply, crossing his arms. For the options he had—Darry could have chosen much more embarrassing ones.

It was a simple white top with their names embroidered on the right of their chest, and a pair of pajama pants to go with. Soda got red plaid, Two-Bit and Darry got green—he made a point to get Dallas and Steve the ones with little reindeers and red bows to really embarrass them—Johnny got gingerbread and snowmen, Pony got little presents and elves.

“Oh, yes you will.” Darry chuckles darkly. “If you’re staying in my house, you’re wearing those.”

“So suddenly we’re not family anymore, huh?” Dallas grunts. “You’re gonna kick me out over pajamas ?”

“Yep.” Darry smirks—realistically, he won’t. But he knows Dallas will do it—he doesn’t care how much the boy complains. Their mother wanted to do this when they were all little—but each and every child shut the idea down and fought tooth and nail to keep her away. Darry very much remembers almost biting his father over them.

Dallas groans loudly, dropping them in the box. “You’re lucky Buck’s is closed for the night.” He says, tucking it under his arm. “How come me and Dallas got the worst ones?“ Steve complains—he doesn’t even seem completely turned off by the idea, but very much so about the fact that he got the girliest ones—the background of the pattern is a barely noticeable pink.

“Because they bring out your eyes.” Two-Bit jokes, narrowly ducking under the box hurled at his head. Darrel just chuckles, standing. “Don’t worry, I have to wear them too.” He says, holding up his own.

“We don’t have to put them on now , do we?” Ponyboy asks, pointedly not looking at his own.

“Depends,” Darry begins, tucking his box under his arm. “Who wants to run an errand with me?”

The room is silent for a long while, all glancing at each other. Johnny sighs and stands. “I’ll go.” He mutters, like he’s taking on for the team. Pony stands right after. “Me too.” He says quickly.

Darry smiles. “Great.” He says, ruffling their hair as they walk past him to the door. “The rest of you better have those on when we get back.” Darry says evilly, walking off and ignoring all the sudden volunteers.

He makes sure Johnny grabs his gift before they go—Darry wraps both boys up in jackets, scarves, and gloves. It’ll on get colder.

He loads the leftovers in the truck, letting Pony and Johnny hold them still in the backseat. “Where we goin’?” Johnny askes, looking up at him confusedly. “We’ve got a few deliveries to make.” Darry says simply, putting the truck in gear and driving off.

First is the Shepards.

He separates a decent amount onto a seperate plates for them, wrapping it up before handing the few plates of food too the two boys. He walks up the rickety porch and rings the bell.

“Whaddaya want.” Curly answers, throwing the door open. His eyes go wide when he sees who it is. “Oh. Shit, my bad.” He says, not looking at him. “No problem, Curly.” Darry smiles, handing him the plate in his hands. “In case y’all are hungry.”

Curly stares down at the plates with wide eyes before finally taking them, setting them on the couch beside him. “Thanks, I guess.” He says, showing his hands in his jean pockets. Ponyboy rolls his eyes, already walking off to the car. Darrel has to grip the back of his jacket to keep him from running off.

“Tell Tim I said thank you.” Darry says, not seeing the older boy anywhere.

“Yeah man, no problem.” Curly nods.

“Me too.” Johnny mutters, peeking his head out from behind the older Curtis. “To you too. Thanks for the gift, it was very nice.” He says in a teasing tone, a devilish smile on his face. Curly’s whole face goes bright red—so red, in fact, that they can see it even in the fleeting lamp light.

“How did you—“ he begins, cutting himself off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny just laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess you don’t want this, then.” He says, waving his own gift in the boy's face. Curly snatches it from his hand, looking down to see his name sharpied on the wrapping paper. “You got me something? You really are a wimp.” Curly sneers, tucking it behind his back anyway—like Johnny would steal it back from him.

Johnny just rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. Merry Christmas.” He says, following Pony and Darry to the truck. Curly doesn’t reply, watching them from the doorway. He only leaves once they’ve pulled away, heading back inside. They can hear him call to Angela from outside.

They head to Buck Merrill’s next. Darry really does hate going to that bar—especially with Johnny and Pony in tow—but he knows Buck is a good guy. He gave Dallas a place to live for most of his teenage years—and often would help Johnny out after a beating if the gang wasn’t around.

Buck and Darry also have an agreement—made after the fire, of course—that if Johnny, Pony, or Soda ever come knocking at his door… Darry will be

called immediately .

He knows Buck isn’t having a party tonight. He usually keeps it closed around family holidays—he claims it’s because of the lack of business, but Darry knows deep down he doesn’t like seeing people ignore their families to come drink at his bar.

He gathers the rest of the food and helps Johnny and Pony carry it up to the door. He knocks loud enough to be heard from anywhere in the house. He can hear Buck’s rushed footsteps, the door being thrown open a moment later.

“What—“ he begins angrily, pausing when he recognizes them. “Oh. Shit, what’s happening now?” He asks, his shoulders dropping. He spares a quizzical glance at Johnny—as if to ask ‘did you kill someone? again?’.

“Nothing to be worried about.” Darry smiles, holding a plate out to him. “There was a lot left over from dinner—I had a feeling you weren’t cooking anything.”

Buck inspects the plate, giving him an odd look. “Uh huh. No other reason?”

“Just wanted to be nice,” Darry begins, giving him a warm smile. “You’re not all alone in there are you?”

“Nawh—My brother’s home.” Buck shrugs. He has a younger brother—only a few years younger than him, Darry’s age. Most of the time he’s out of state—Dallas is the only one who’s ever met him in person, Johnny and Two-Bit have been in the bar while he was… but that’s just about it. “Sure he won’t mind some grub.”

“Good. Merry Christmas, Merril.”

Buck makes an odd face—like how dare Darry say that to him, before groaning. “Give me a second, wait here.” He grumbles, heading back into the bar and shutting the door behind him. By the time he’s back, Johnny and Pony have retreated back to the truck for warmth.

Buck comes back out with a pretty expensive looking bottle of Heineken, handing it off before the two younger boys see. “Nobody here’s gonna be able to afford it anyway.” He says simply, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you. I’m sure the guys will finish this by the end of the night.”

“I’m counting on it.” Buck chuckles. “Oh, and tell Dallas that he left his lighter here. Some broads found it on the floor.” He says, taking it out of his pocket and handing it to him. Darry promises he will and says his goodbyes, Buck just grunts in agreement and shuts the door.

“Darry.” Ponyboy comments when he starts up the truck again. “Are we going to have to put those pajamas on when we get home?“

Darry chuckles. “Of course. It would be unfair if you didn’t.” He says, already picturing the scene of all his boys dolled up like a mall-ad family. “I don’t even mind anymore, at least it’ll be warm.” Johnny mutters, wrapping his arms around himself and wincing just enough to be heard.

The doctor had warned them about this time of year for his scars. Apparently, extreme cold can trigger some kind of nerve pain—it also causes the skin to dry up and crack. Luckily it’s not as bad as it was two years ago, but it will no-doubt hurt for at least a few more years. Not to mention that Johnny already got cold easy before the fire—now it’s bad enough to classify him as hypothermic.

“There should be a few extra blankets in the living room if you need them.” Darry comments idly, trying to focus on the icy road. “Not like Dallas will let you be cold for long anyway.”

Johnny and Ponyboy both giggling in the backseat. As years go on Dallas seems to get less and less scary—the fire turned him so soft that he was almost a different person. It took months for him to stop using kid-gloves around Johnny and Pony.

“We’re home.” Darry says, turning the key and cutting off the car. Both boys run inside immediately, teeth chattering loud enough to sound like tap shoes.

Darry comes inside to already see Dallas worrying over Johnny. “Christ Darry, did you even turn the heat on?” He asks grumpily, checking Johnny's arms to make sure the skin wasn’t cracked bad enough to bleed. Of course it wasn’t, but this was the only thing Dally would ever double check.

“I’m alright Dal.” Johnny says in place of Darry’s retort. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Darry suddenly remembers the pajamas. Glancing around the room, all of the boys had listened to him. Even Steve and Dallas—Soda was still keeled over laughing.

Johnny and Ponyboy emerge a few moments later dressed as well—Ponyboy’s got his arms crossed and he is very clearly not happy with this outcome.

“You guys are making my Christmas this year, I swear.” Darry smiles—he’d pinch their cheeks if they’d let him. Eh, he’ll probably do it anyway. Darry gets changed quickly—he’s sure that if he waits any longer they won’t let him get photo evidence.

He runs out with his camera in tow, the boys ass grown when they see it. “We didn’t agree to this!” Steve frowns, watching him set it up on the mantle. “I know, I specifically didn’t tell you so you couldn’t say no.” Darry shrugs, fixing the angle one or twice.

He turns the countdown on and quickly gets behind the group. “Smile!” He says, knowing they won’t. The camera flashes and he’s so excited that he’s already rushing back to it.

To their credit, everyone but Steve, Dallas, and Pony are smiling— Soda’s is more of a smolder, because even in family photos he has to be the best looking. “Look at us! Not a single one of us had our eyes closed!” Two-But chuckles, joining the group around Darry to look at it.

They truly were an adorable family. Darry was already planning on printing this photo and the one Two-Bit had taken a hundred times and placing it on every fridge, work locker, and wallet he could find. “If that ever gets to the public, I’m taking care of all witnesses.” Dallas grumbles. “I’ll be your alibi.” Steve adds, unable to look at it any longer.

“Everybody quit your whining! It's a nice photo!” Darry says defensively, setting the camera aside before anyone could try and delete it. “Yeah, Just pretend its not you in the picture. Thats what I’m gonna do.”

“How's that gonna work?” Steve raises a brow annoyedly—unable to hide his genuine annoyance with the boy for a full holiday. “I could have another brother somewhere—I could be a twin.”

“I’d feel bad for that kid.” Steve chuckles, ignoring the empty box that Ponyboy chucks—and misses—at his head.

“Boys, stop fighting or Santa will give you coal for Christmas.” Two-Bit says teasingly, wagging his finger at them. Steve and Pony both groan.

“I don’t get what's wrong with getting coal for Christmas—I can’t even count how many times I was building a fire and prayed for that stuff.” Johnny mutters, shrugging. He glances up to see the whole gang staring at him with very heartbroken looks on their faces. “Dude, That's like… the saddest thing that's ever come out of your mouth.” Soda says—he almost looks like he's gonna cry–dramatically wrapping his arms around him and sighing.

“No—It's not the time to be sad!” Two-Bit exclaims, crossing his arms with a proud look on his face. “Besides, I am very sure I saw Darrel walk in with some booze in hand. Am I right?” He turns to Darrel. He can’t help but roll his eyes. “Yes, Keith. There is a bottle in the kitchen.”

Everyone but Johnny and Pony rush off to go find it. Darrel can hear the cork pop out from the living room—he's sure this won’t end well. “It’s about time you two get to bed anyway.” Darry sighs, looking at the two younger boys.

“What?” Ponyboy frowns. “I’m almost a grown man and you’re giving me a bedtime?!” He asks, exasperated. “Sixteen is almost grown for you?” Darry retorts, unimpressed, raising a brow. Ponyboy opens his mouth and shuts its again, looking at Johnny for support. “I dunno’ what you’re looking at me for.” Johnny laughs. “When I was sixteen I was actively freeloading off of you guys.”

“You only stopped being sixteen like seven months ago.” Ponyboy mutters, rolling his eyes. “And you weren’t ‘freeloading’ you were recovering from third degree burns.”

“Tomato tah-mah-toe.” Johnny shrugs, already making his way towards Pony’s room. “Now come on, If we don’t go to bed now Santa might not come.” He adds teasingly. “Whose side are you on?” Ponyboy mutters with a betrayed look on his face—he eventually does begin to follow him to his room, trying to hide his own yawn.

“We can get you a cup of warm milk if you want.” Dallas calls from the kitchen, drinking right out of the bottle.

“Oh, Fuck off Dallas!” Ponyboy yells back, turning to glare at him.

“Watch your mouth Pony.” Darry scolds immediately—profanity has never been a big issue for him, but ever since he took over he’d been unable to stop. “You aren’t quite old enough to get away with that.”

“Yeah Yeah.” Pony groans, sticking his head out of his room. “Goodnight friends and family…Steve too, I guess.” He says, shutting the door before Steve can defend himself. Darrel can hear the man yell something in response, muffled by the noise of the rest of the gang laughing.

By the time Darrel makes it into the kitchen, the bottle is already half-way gone. “Jesus, You guys have had enough.” Darry says, aiming to take the bottle and fumbling when Two-Bit snatches it away. “You haven’t had enough if you’re noticing!” He chuckles loudly. “Come on, join us.” He says, waving the bottle around like it's a prize.

Darry rolls his eyes, making another attempt to take it and only getting embarrassed again when he misses.

“Come on big guy, take a sip.” He says again like he's trying to entice him. “You know you want to.” The three others quietly cheer him on, pumping their fists up and down along with their chants. Darry’s never been peer pressured successfully—it works even less when he’s around a group that he mostly thinks of as his younger brothers. But either way he finds himself snatching the bottle and guzzling a decent amount.

It's almost midnight when they decide they’ve had enough. Steve and Soda are the first to go—they both head into Soda’s bedroom, saying their goodnights and such. Dallas goes not long after, aiming to crash on the couch. Darry gives him a goodnight hug and forehead kiss as he goes—to which he gets shoved off by a red-faced blonde.

Two-Bit and Darry retreat to his room only ten minutes later. Darry tells him to get comfortable—he doesn’t know if its because he’s feeling extra loving or because he’s a little tipsy, but he decides he can’t go to bed without giving Johnny and Pony a proper good night.

He’s able to get the bedroom door open without either of them stirring. Despite their earlier protest–Both Johnny and Pony are passed out under the covers. Johnny’s got his head on Pony’s chest and it's a miracle he's not suffocating with the cover’s mostly over his face—upon further inspection the two are completely cuddled up together and snoring just loud enough to hear.

Darry stalks to Ponyboy’s side of the bed and leans down— placing a soft kiss right on his hairline. “Goodnight Pone.” He whispers, though he’s a hundred percent sure the boy won’t hear him.

Sure enough, right as he’s leaning over to do the same to Johnny—Ponyboy stirs. “You smell like booze.” Ponyboy whispers, eyes barely able to stay open for more than a second. “Two spilled some on me.” Darry whispers back—quickly giving Johnny his goodnight and standing straight again.

Ponyboy laughs—his voice is slurred from his own tired state, Darry can’t help but think how adorable it is. “Make sure you gimme a copy of that photo.” Ponyboy whispers, wrapping his arms around his friend and snuggling closer, eyes already shut again. “Will do, Goodnight baby.” Darry whispers with a chuckle—he's able to make it to the door without either of the boy’s re-awakening.

“Did you have fun today?” Two-Bit asks as he climbs into bed a moment later. “Very much so.” Darry smiles, placing a kiss on his cheek and getting comfortable under the covers. “Good,” Two whispers, wrapping his arms around the older. “You deserve a good day every once in a while.”

[charmixpower]

My sister and I were talking Winx and we were wondering how you think their marriage proposals would be if they propose at all? I'd also love to hear your thoughts on their potential weddings too if you want!

Hey so I'm soo sorry it took forever for me to reply, I think I've mentioned it a few times, but I was severely ill to the point of being bed-bound around the time I got this ask. I am a helluva lot better now, being able to consistently get up and do things, which is why I am only answering now

Thank you for your patience XD Hopefully I'll be more active… soonish? I wanna come back but I'm still ill and my personal life is still on fire so. um. When I can, I will

I'm gonna write this with the canon ships in mind

Bloom: She dreamed of fairies, and princesses, and magic growing up; she absolutely wants that fairy tale proposal and wedding. Stella would refuse to let Sky plan his own proposal, don't mention the movies to me that was bad, Stella would find a nice huge walkable garden, Sky would ask for help packing a picnic because let's be real, Princey would panic because he didn't have to think about that before. It would be cute and dorky because their both awkward as hell and I cannot see either of them making it though this without stuttering and cutting each other off. As for the wedding Erakylon as a whole as put her off of a princess wedding, but she was hoping Domino would be different, and it is but it still sucks and is awkward. A bunch of people she doesn't know, in situations she's not used to, making her use skills she just learned, all while being idolized. Its not the worst thing ever but it makes Bloom's Daphne Domino based imposter syndrome flare up. Bloom is sad and Sky is like "Well, we didn't have an earth ceremony with your extended earth family" and she perks up instantly. Stella, barely being held back by Flora, take care of the preparations to make up from the Domino one. Aisha reframes from saying I told you so about the Domino wedding for years, still says it though

Stella: I think Stella would text Brandon a long list of specifications for her dream proposal. It is long, there are fireworks, they rented a private beach. She's too dramatic to not. All the girls are there, because, firstly, Stella wants to squeal with her friends, secondly, she wants the whole thing recorded and its easy to talk Tecna or Riven into doing that. As for the wedding, its the biggest thing since Bloom's coronation. Stella's wedding was already going to be huge but she's still mad about Cassandra running her ball and she's making this everyone else's problem. Invites everyone she knows and likes, and a few people she doesn't to rub her happiness in their face, because she's petty. The wedding planner is so stressed, how many things do you want. Meanwhile, Brandon who just choreographed the perfect proposal, and has been with Stella for years, takes over half of the burden from the weeding planner. He knows Stella's tastes and moods and has been the personal servant of a Royal for years, he knows what he's doing. The wedding is the event of the year and Stella couldn't be happier

Flora: I imagine both Flora and Helia are romantics, so they'd probably do some "vacation in a beach town, and I purpose to you after personally rowing us out to the middle of a lake for a gorgeous view" ass shit. Like picturesque proposal. Helia gets to be a little smug about how amazing his proposal was, as a treat. As for the wedding, while I haven't really thought about what they'd be, I think they'd be the only ones who are torn with which one of their cultures wedding ceremonies they want to go with. (Tecna doesn't care so its Timmy's planet, Riven doesn't have much his planet at all anymore so Musa's, and Bloom and Stella are important political figures so), they compromise and try to blend traditions, Saladin and Flora's parents work with the couple to try to make both families happy. Their wedding nearly matches the size of the Royals just on sheer amount of family the two invited. Both Helia and Flora have big extended family they want at their wedding, and Flora is also down to invite distant friends. They have rich friends, they can have their huge dream wedding. The wedding is held in Linphea and the decorations are all plants, and is absolutely gorgeous

Tecna: I like to headcanon her as aromantic because I am and I related to her S1 statements so fucking hard. Pretending that hc doesn't exist, she wouldn't propose. Tecna struggles with her emotions and expressing them and a proposal is a lot so if her partner wants a marriage they're gonna have to propose to her. I think Timmy is the romantic type, he's also deeply nervous. What's going to either happen is that Timmy proposes to her in a private romantic setting, like when their alone on a vacation, cute dorky and very them, or Tecna would see Timmy wanting to propose to her and not doing it for a while and decide to do it herself. Tecna would be more dramatic than Timmy though because shed get the girls in on it, and which means Stella. Timmy likes it. As for a wedding neither of them like entertaining acquaintance and they're both introverts, so they have a small minimalist wedding that doesn't take forever because they both like to fidget. Also it wouldn't just be a wedding Tecna and Timmy would use it to force everyone to listen to their info dumping on there newest creations/ship and all the doors are locked

Musa: Musa is a huge romantic and would dream of being proposed too but she'd also dream of proposing. She's the only one that's more likely to propose rather than waiting for one, Musa is kinda impulsive and clingy when it comes to romance, see: all of s1, and while she grew out of some of that the rest of it led to her being openly a "go-getter" in her relationships lol. On top of this Riven has commitment issues and it takes him a while to get over stabbing her in the first movie. So Musa is definitely proposing, it isn't a big thing because Riven would hate that so much, so maybe wile stargazing on a road trip. Small and intimate. As for the wedding, Riven hates his family, and Musa barely gets along with hers, and the only people either of them would feel comfortable inviting is their friends, so its a very nontraditional wedding that devolves into a straight up party very quickly. Honestly the only reason they just didn't go to a court house is because Helia and Stella would actually kill them if they didn't have any celebration, oh and they like their friends

Aisha: Considering that her relationship with Nabu is arranged there's no proposal. If they did have a chance to propose, it I can see either of them prosing. Aisha just going for it, like maybe during a big celebration, or Nabu pulling out all the stop to take Aisha out for a full day then proposing at the end. As for the wedding, they'd probably have a huge, likely televised one, set up by their families, for Andros, their families, politics, and the media. Then later on they have a much smaller ceremony with their friends where Aisha and Riven can break tables arm wrestling without scandalizing anyone or it ending up on the news. Aisha kinda hates pomp, Nabu is a shit starter, and neither of them ever imagined their weddings actually being romantic, so the smaller ceremony is a lot better than they ever imagined, and quickly puts the mess that happened at Riven's and Musa's to shame. Everyone is trying to cheer Aisha up after being in a stuffy, heavily political ceremony, so they all go way too wild

[verycoolusername1]

The Beginning

Summary: How the magic that is lakeside was born(aka the prologue)

A/N: The song here is we hug now by Sydney Rose from her recent ep, I know what I want. If yall wanted to know.

Anywho I actually wrote something :o

You have been friends with the hughes brothers for as long as you can remember. The shared sleepovers to the high school parties that extended to college.

The fun was neverending... then Jack met Trevor and Cole at a music store and you swore your heart fluttered at the sight of Cole. You blamed it simply on your teenage hormones and tried to ignore your feelings for him by dating other guys, those often didn't end well.

You would get your heartbroken everytime, you decided that if you were gonna cry about it, you might as well make a good song about it. You were writing in your notebook when Luke sat next to you, bored out of his mind.

"Are you done writing? I wanna hang out with you." Luke groaned.

"I'm almost done, Luke. No need to be all dramatic." You nudged him in the shoulder playfully.

"Jack, Cole, and Trevor are all hanging out at the beach and Quinn is doing Quinn things. It's just you and me here." Luke slumped down the wall.

"You're saying that as if it's a bad thing." You teased.

Luke begin to play on the piano in the living, playing random notes at a time. The boredom was really getting to him, a light bulb went up in your head.

"Wait play that again." You told him, Luke looked at you confused but played it again.

You took out your phone and recorded the sound. "Luke, I have an idea."

Luke looks at you, waiting for you to finish.

"We should start a band." You sit down next to him on the piano. "Play again."

Luke did as you said and begin to play again on the piano, continuing whatever melody you liked before and expanded on it.

You took a quick breath. "We don't see stars here, they're just city lights."

Luke glanced at you but continued to play, already getting a feel of the song.

"It's occasional but sometimes I'll see the moon, and I'll think of you."

The silence between you and Luke grew as he continued to play the piano, waiting for you to sing further. You sung the chorus of the song before going to the next verse.

Luke joined you this time, singing alongside you as the song progresses. "And in that dream, I will say everything I wanted. That everyday after May, I haven't found what I needed."

The two of you were in your own world that you didn't even notice that the others had come back.

"Sometimes I go to sleep, and I'm still seventeen." You rest your head on Luke's shoulder. "You still live down my street, you're not mad at me."

The others walked towards where you and Luke were, Trevor was about to speak before Jack stopped him.

Quinn came up behind the three boys and looked to where you and Luke were and looked on.

"You're just thinking it's a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me."

As the song ended, you heard a form of clapping behind you. You and Luke turned around and saw the others looking at the two of you in amazement.

"That was nice." Cole smiled at the two of you.

"Do you guys normally do this when we're gone?" Trevor joked as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"We should just start a band." Jack exclaimed.

You and Luke shared a look before bursting into laughter. The others look in confusion before joining in.

"You guys are weird." Quinn shook his head and chuckled.

[oxbowreality]

Seconds into "The Robot Revolution" I found myself calling "fucking kill him!" at stupid Alan or whatever he's called. Well, aren't I gonna be satisfied.

Also why were y'all doing the maths on her age was the star naming fad not enough for you

liveblog continues

The receptionist safeguarding private information... that's my job and you would not believe the bs people try to ask. If someone shorted my computer I'd kill them. This is the start of the Doctor's newest evil arc for real.

ngl "what if life is found in the star system my star is in the middle of" was a question I had as a child. not that I had a star. because this is just the sort of thing a child would worry about. also my mum would never buy me a star and I'd read a very good picture book about how we don't need to own celestial objects because they should be for everyone to enjoy

at least they let her grab her coat

TRANSMAT MENTION

is he wearing a kilt or just layering

OH GOD NOT A WEDDING

PLEASE TELL ME IT'S NOT ALAN.

OKAY THANKS THAT'S WORSE

Miss 55 you are so harried and so brave.

"I have learned to trust him with my life" oh sorry Miss 55 you're dead by the end of the episode aren't you— OKAY bye Sasha

can we not have repeat actors without addressing it anymore? for the record I'm faceblind so it might bother me less than the average human

nurse loves learning about alien bodies, please please please keep this up Belinda

apportation? blinovitch?

TURN POLISH POLISH OFF AND GRAB A BROOM

oh okay that's valid that's a valid mode of surrender but could you do that somewhere else, like somewhere with structural integrity and no injured

ALAN?!

ALAN WHEN I GET YOU

DIE FASCIST BITCH oh my god he's just half a guy but look at that makeup, that's such a fun costume design it's detestable. the metal skin is sickening. also please don't kill what may have been a competent robotics expert.

WHEN we're married? Kill him. Kill die kill die—

"Belinda mine forever" she's so right it's planet of the incels

GET BLINOVITCHED BITCH god this has nothing on that stupid serial where they introduced it

Time Detective? No, Time LORD. Just the shit you hate, Belinda.

Holy shit.

Girl where did you learn that word. Does that shit go two ways?

"We don't need to rush, 'cause, Time Lord" oh baby don't pull rank now, her shift starts at 7:30am on May the 24th.

I love how he sounds almost just as entitled as Alan here. Go Bel! Go Bel! Guilt that man! wait when did he get his top open

can we just get her on a nice beach vacation the day before then she can pop back home a couple hours after she was snatched

Bel you are allowed to punch him btw. in the face. bye.

[murkystarlight]

I come to yall with a new AU I named,

Jobs AU

Yeah. Guess what thats about.

.

You're right! Jobs!! (This is also so that I can hopefully look into different jobs and learn about them)

Here is the brief info on who has what job. It's also like- a modern AU so...

Oh and don't expect the jobs to make a whole lot of sense. A lot of them are based off my headcannons for the characters and general vibes 💅

Jesse: pet caretaker. Has a little shop that sells items needed to raise an animal companion, and also a... Playhouse? I'm not sure what you call those places. Maybe like a puppy school thing?

Olivia: works in a family farm(this is really random. It came from her saying "Holy cow". Like.. that's the only reason other than, I feel like she could've grown up in a farm). But she wants to get out and do her own thing as much as she likes helping out there. She helped install internet in the town she lives in(so she could have better access through computer. She wants to learn computer science. Maybe make games?)

Axel: had to think a lot about this. I thought it could work to make him work with Olivia at her family farm.. but then I figured a comedian would fit him pretty nicely. So he's a comedian, but not that famous yet. So he helps out Olivia often with the farm. It also gives Olivia more time to try learn computer.

Petra: she makes jewelry. She can work with metal, gems in many different ways. She also desgins them herself.

Lukas: yeah he could be a writer... but- no. That's too boring. So I gave him a job as an actor. But, he still has a.. side job? Related to his writing. I mean.. he can still write books. Right? And not only that, he also owns a small book store along with a café. You know, one of those places you can relax while reading a book with a cup of coffee.

Gabriel: honestly wasn't sure what to give him. He and Ellegaard was the hardest to choose a job out of the order. But I think he could be a stuntman or choreographer. ...maybe even a body builder- 👀 (why is it all related to physical work..? Lol he just gives up that image to me ig)

Ellegaard: journalist. Just kinda came to me while finding a job to give her. I think she'd do nicely at it.

Soren: songwriter. He has potential, okay??

Ivor: I talked about this somewhere, designer. He designs and makes clothes. The idea came from him making armor for the order.

Magnus: show host. Game show, talk show, he could do it. I can imagine it pretty well in my head

Aiden: writer. I dunno man.. let him be it. I was gonna go for plumber so... i mean okay, no hate on him. Just- he's being especially annoying today 🤷‍♀️ sorry bro.

Maya: has a online shop where she sells items for cosplaying. Handmade. I feel like Maya would be a cosplayer...

Gill: owns a reptile shop. He's either incredibly scared of reptiles, or loves them dearly. For this AU, he loves them dearly.

Isa: honestly thought of just giving her mayor? But I think, makeup artist. Why? Cause her eyeshadow is JUST SO FLIPPIN BEAUTIFUL

Reginald: cop. Yeah- it fits him too well... but i can also see him reading bedtime stories for children! ...maybe he records audio books? For children books? Maybe?

Milo: photographer. I'll be honest, it's his looks. It's because of his looks.

Cassie Rose: youtuber :D she makes videos of her cats. "Becoming a crazy cat lady. Training video"

Harper: she works on developing AI! A.k.a. PAMA :) [dw it's not dangerous]

Em: I wanna say wrestling champion. So bad

Nell: a lifeguard! Or maybe person that runs the shop at beaches where they sell swimsuits and surfboards and stuff.

<Hadrian: businessman. CEO

Mevia: like... COO?

Otto: management>

That's all I can think of, or assign a job to right now. Might change or get added if I find something new and or better. Feel free to ask about the jobs they have. Or what you think a certain character might have for a job(might steal your idea tho- I warned ya)

And if there's a character you'd like to know what job I'd assign them but isn't on the list, feel free to ask that too!

Thanks for reading that stupidly long post. I'll be signing out 💫

[bodybeyondstories]

story prompt: a couple of witchy gay guys are sat on a beach people watching and making minor modifications to passersby until the beach is suddenly a catalogue of hunky men with outrageous proportions

Witchy gays are a large part of my friend group! This was fun, also made me realize I need a more coherent mechanism for how magic works (beyond verbal suggestion lol). Ended up a quick mix of dick growth, ass expansion, a little bit of macro if you stick around til the end.

1101 words

--------------------------

"He could start a small country with that thing."

"Was that one you or me?" Olly asked, his head slowly following the sight of an overstuffed speedo bouncing between two tanned thighs moving with sudden awkwardness across the beach. Its owner glanced down with a look of worry as the waistband of his swimwear drooped farther from his actual waist, weighed down by the unexpected mass stretching them to their limit. The worry turned to a flush of embarrassment as he made eye contact with Olly, who wasn't even bothering to hide his attention behind the pair of sunglasses dangling just below his chin. "Either way, fantastic work," he said with a wink at the overendowed beachgoer.

"That might have been a group effort," said Amir, turning to his friend. "He's always here when we are. Bad timing, I guess."

"Tragic, really. Not to mention he's definitely a grower. Must hit fifteen, sixteen inches when he really gets going."

"Let's not go overboard," Amir warned. "This isn't exactly in the rulebook."

"It's not against the rulebook, either. It's just practice, right?"

"Yeah, of course. They kept warning us that body mod spell work is complicated and risky..."

"So we get the feel of things by trying out minor shifts."

"Inconsequential changes."

"Negligible adjustments. No one gets hurt. Unless our regular ends up tripping over his own--"

"Careful! The spell's still active."

"Oh...shit..." Olly trailed off at the sight of a silhouette walking towards the sunset, a third shadowy limb swinging down past his knees and seeming to droop even further towards his ankles. The tatters of a speedo blew across the sand as he tried to hold his gargantuan cock complacent through a panicked scurry back up the beach, onlookers not hesitating to unapologetically hit record.

"We're gonna be hearing about that, aren't we?" said Amir. "This beach is already developing a little bit of a reputation for its...proportions."

"Well ok, we might be getting better at this than we thought," offered Olly with a smirk. "Maybe too good."

"You're sure it's not just because we're sitting on top of a half-assed transmutation circle?" Amir lifted a corner of their shared beach blanket to reveal a softly glowing sigil partially buried in the sand.

"A half-assed transmutation circle of our own design," corrected Olly. "Besides, there's nothing half-assed within a half mile, thanks to you."

"I like what I like," Amir blushed, gazing around at a landscape of astonishing bubble butts. Each a unique variation on themes of perkiness, roundness, muscle, and mass, yet most all of them visibly beyond the realm of quotidian normalcy. "At least most of them can still reasonably shove into normal pants. We learned our lesson after, well,"

"Right," said Olly, eyes drifting up to the lifeguard tower. "I think 'beachball buns' may have been a bit much."

"He broke the sides of the chair," said Amir, thinking of the lithe, toned lifeguard who had been trying to play it cool for as long as possible as his cheeks inflated to catastrophic proportions. "He could barely make it down the stairs."

"Yes, and now we know about sudden shifts in centers of gravity," said Olly, reminiscing on the sight of the lifeguard's bodacious bubble butt jiggling out of control, throwing off his momentum as he tried to make it down the steps.

"Where's he even going to find new swimwear that fits?" asked Amir, still fixated on the memory of those stretchy trunks ripped to shreds as he trudged up the beach with his newfound counterbalance, trying and failing to hold the pieces together and cover up his globular cheeks. "Or anything that fits."

"And the look on his face trying to squeeze back into his car... Someone had to shove the door closed from outside. It went viral overnight. Definitely your best work," Olly smiled at his friend.

"Ugh," Amir fell back onto the towel, resting on his elbows. "We need to be more subtle."

"Fair enough." Olly locked eyes on a beachgoer waist deep in the water, his impressive musculature glistening in the setting sun. "Like just improving what they're already going for." The swimmer paused for a second to wriggle his shoulders as they inflated into noticeable boulders, his back widening with striated muscle.

"Right, just little boosts here and there," said Amir, as their new target turned around to reveal a juicy pec shelf expanding inches in front of him. With one hand worriedly kneading his sensitive tits, he started moving to the shore. As he emerged from the water, he seemed to keep rising, stumbling awkwardly as his body lengthened upward by a foot and a half. "Was that you?"

"Like you said, just little boosts."

"I think that was more than a little. I meant just enough for a little wardrobe malfunction." As if on queue, a comically large dick fell out the leg of his trunks. He hurriedly tried to maneuver his hog back above the hem, positioning it around one thigh, tears showing in the thin fabric as it jumped a couple inches in girth.

"Not two in one day," Olly mocked.

"I don't know, maybe it's something in the water." Amir gestured dismissively on the last word, only noticing the sparks of chaos magic fling off his fingers when it was too late. "Hm. We...should...go. I think that's enough for today."

They began packing up their beach supplies and knocking sand off the sigils, carefully placing them in their packs as a growing panic crept its way from the water up the shore, beachgoers slowly and inexplicably inflating with mass. The new lifeguard, whose buns were already on their way to beachball size, blew the whistle, calling in swimmers from farthest out. His face flushed as they approached the shore, rising fifteen, then twenty feet out of the water, Olly and Amir narrowly dodging the shadow of one kayak-size foot that came crashing down onto their stuff.

"Oh, uh, sorry," came a deep booming rumble from above, massive finger daintily brushing off the remains of their sigils, their glow fading away with the setting sun.

"No problem, dude!" Olly yelled up at the giant only to be met with the sight of a gargantuan prick swinging just above his head, oozing a small river of precum.

"Wait..." his face was slowly turning to terror as he realized his chest cleared the lifeguard tower. "What's...happening to me??"

The two friends looked at each other for a long moment then turned and began digging through their backpacks.

"Ok," said Amir. "Let's jot that down."

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 34/34 - epilogue

[Read on AO3]

Greenwich, CT

May 2001

-.-.-

“Smile at the camera, sweetheart!” Mulder calls, holding the camcorder up in front of him and peering through the viewfinder. “You too, beautiful.”

Scully pauses her search for seashells with Madeline, tapping the little girl on the shoulder and showing her where to look. As soon as she spots him, a chubby little finger points in his direction, her face lighting up in a smile, and with his free hand, he waves back.

“Hi Miss Madeline!” he says, zooming in on the two of them as they go back to their search for seashells in the sand. “Are you having fun?” He pans down to the gentle waves as they lap at the shoreline, coming closer and closer and finally tickling at the toes of Maddie and Scully, eliciting a shriek of joy from the now toddling one-year-old.

“Is it cold?” he asks.

“A little cold, still,” Scully answers, leading their daughter by the hand a little further from the ocean. He zooms back out, capturing the full picture of this lovely New England beach as it nears sundown, the warmth starting to fade along with the light.

“How about this one?” a soft, older voice cuts in, walking carefully over the sand toward little Maddie, who holds out her hand in acceptance. Teena Mulder leans down and places a large white seashell in her hand, which little Maddie thoroughly inspects.

“Did Grandma find a big one, baby?” Mulder asks, walking closer to his family to get a better look at the spoils of their seashell hunting trip.

Maddie holds it up for the camera. “Ah!” she answers, tugging at Scully’s hand to bring her closer to her dad.

“Oh, look at that!” he says enthusiastically, widening his eyes comically. She grunts and stretches her arm out as far as it will go—her way of telling him she wants to give him something. He chuckles and holds out his hand, accepting her gift with a wide brimming smile. “Thank you, sweet pea. Should Daddy hold onto that for you?”

Scully’s lips pull back in a smile as she looks up at him. “I think that’s probably a good idea,” she answers for Maddie.

Mulder tucks the shell into his pocket, pressing the record button on the camcorder and checking that there’s still battery left before looping the strap over his shoulder.

“Alright, Daddy’s turn, little stinker,” he says, grabbing Maddie by the hands and lifting her into the air. She squeals in delight, swinging in an arc until he plops her back down in the shallowest bit of water where the sea meets the shore.

“Mulder, you’re gonna get the camera wet!” Scully calls out, her brow slanted in either worry or disapproval.

Maddie stomps around in the water, giggling at the way it splashes up when she does.

“Did you hear that, Maddie?” Mulder asks in mock alarm, addressing his question directly to his daughter, though speaking loud enough for Scully to hear. “Mommy thinks I’m going to drop this expensive camcorder into two inches of water, can you believe it?!”

Madeline gapes up at him, clearly having no clue what he’s talking about, but just happy to be included.

“I did not say you’d drop it,” Scully corrects, pursing her lips and crossing her arms in that way that he’s always thought looked so adorable, especially with how tiny she is.

Mulder walks Maddie back over to the others, silently handing her and the camera off to his mother with a playful glint in his eye.

“You’re worried about getting the camera wet, Scully?” he asks, his voice dangerously low as he approaches her, taking one long, drawn out step at a time.

“Mulder, don’t,” Scully warns, suddenly catching on to this game he’s playing, but she’s too late. She tries to escape, but he grabs her around the middle and lifts her into the air, taking off toward the ocean with laughter on his breath. 

He bridal carries her as he wades out into the water, the salty seawater soaking up to his knees. The cold temperature invigorates him—makes him feel alive. Or maybe it’s the pleading screeches of his wife as she yells at him to take her back in between irrepressible fits of giggles.

She clings onto him for dear life, lifting her feet so they don’t dangle into the brisk ocean as he comes to a sudden stop.

“I think this is far enough,” he says thoughtfully, looking around them with a contemplative gaze.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, her jaw dropping open. She can pretend to be aghast by his actions all she wants—she can’t hide that underlying amusement that pulls at the corners of her lips.

“Sorry, honey,” he says, meeting her eyes with a shrug. And with that, he drops her into the water.

She comes up gasping, her mouth open wide in disbelief that he’d really gone through with it.

“Mulder!” she yells, wiping water from her eyes and smoothing her hair back out of her face. He doubles over laughing, unable to restrain himself. “Help me up,” she demands, reaching her hand out for him to grab on to.

He acquiesces, gripping her slippery fingers with both hands, and pulling, but instead of pulling her up, he finds himself being yanked downward, and it’s not long before he, too, has pants full of sand.

“You happy now?” he asks, resigned to his fate.

“No!” she shrieks, her brows raised to her forehead. Water drips down and gets caught in her eyelash, and she wipes it away, fighting back a smile. “I’m all wet, Mulder!” she complains. “We have to drive back to your mom’s house like this!”

“So what?” he says, pulling her toward him by the waist. He presses a firm kiss to her cold lips, warming them with his own for a moment before pulling back. His fingertips tease at her sides, causing her to squirm away.

He remembers the day he found out Scully was ticklish. One of the greatest days of his life, for sure.

“Mulder…” she complains, though this time with a little less fervor. The waves crash against them incessantly, occasionally splattering one of them with a splash of seawater to the eye.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, this time actually helping her to her feet. “I’ll wrap you in a big fuzzy blanket as soon as we get home, I promise.” He gives her one final peck on the lips once they’re upright again, and leads her by hand back to the shore, where his mother watches on in amusement.

“Was that really the best decision, Fox?” she asks, her scrutinizing eyes traveling over their soaked clothing and back up to their reddened faces.

Best decision? No. That honor goes to the day he’d decided to pursue adoption with Scully. This family—one of their own making—that was the best decision he’d ever made. Nothing else would ever come close.

But having a little fun, dumping her in the water and getting absolutely soaked…? Well, he’d never regret anything that made Scully laugh. From the first moment he heard it in the graveyard in Bellefleur, it’s been his life’s mission to hear it again. In the past year, he’s succeeded more times than he can count.

“No regrets,” he declares proudly, pressing a kiss to the back of Scully’s hand, still intertwined with his own.

Teena shakes her head in fond disdain, setting Madeline down on the sand so that she can focus on walking over the uneven terrain back to the car. Maddie reaches up with both of her hands, and Mulder grabs one while Scully grabs the other. 

“Wet!” she says, her little forehead pinching in concern, the word apparently one of the few that she knows.

Mulder shakes his head over top of her, sprinkling her with water droplets from his hair and causing her to shriek. “No!” she squeals. “No, Da-da!”

Scully laughs, her feet slipping a bit in the sand as she walks.

“Come on, now, you two can’t team up on me!” Mulder protests.

“You’re outnumbered, Mulder,” Scully points out, and he heaves an exaggerated sigh.

By the time they get back to Teena Mulder’s house—only a short drive away—the seats of their car are damp with seawater and Scully has informed him that he’ll be the one cleaning it when they get back to their house in Virginia. He responds with, “Yes, dear,” a phrase that never fails to make her roll her eyes.

Madeline falls asleep on the ride home, clutching the seashell that Grandma Mulder had found in her hand like a stuffed animal. As much as they hate to put her in bed still covered in salt and sand from the ocean, they really don’t want to wake her, so they do the best they can to clean her off before setting her down in the travel crib they brought. It’s their last day anyway. The sheets can be cleaned.

Scully gives him first dibs on the shower, biding her time by packing up the little room they’ve shared at his mother’s house for the past week. He re-emerges feeling like a new man, free from that grimy feeling of being covered in salt.

Her shower takes longer than usual. He starts to miss her, not wanting to go to bed without her, but feeling the undeniable call of the down mattress and pillows. 

He knocks on the door, asking her if she’s almost finished.

She opens it slowly, holding a piece of plastic in her hands and looking astonished.

He glances down at it, two blue lines the same color as the paint in his mother’s coastal-themed guest bathroom beaming up at him.

He’s not sure whether he should laugh or cry at first. She looks up at him, uncertainty darkening her face, and he settles for scooping his wife into his arms, rocking her back and forth in complete disbelief.

After he’s taken a moment to absorb this new information, he pulls back, holding her in place and grinning uncontrollably down at her.

“Scully, do you ever get the feeling that the universe is laughing at us?” he asks, chuckling a little as he takes in the glow that he’s just now noticing around her.

“I don’t know if the universe is capable of laughing, Mulder,” she responds in her shaky voice, ever the skeptic. “But someone definitely is.”

“Well, Dana,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead and splaying his hand over her abdomen. “I was just thinking about how much I missed the newborn stage.”

~~~

end.

~~~

I have so much to say, and I don't know where to start. Apologies in advance for the long author's note.

To all of you who have read and commented here and on AO3 (I'm still a bit in shock over just how many of you there are), thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your response has meant the world to me, and to know you've looked forward to updates just as I have for stories by authors I look up to… Well, it's humbling.

Since I started writing fanfiction a decade ago, I've always wanted to find the patience and inspiration to write a proper slow burn and have people follow along. Now, this turned out even longer than I expected it to--and at times during the three months it took to write, I felt like I had overestimated my patience to keep writing--but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Checking this one off my bucket list!

To @numinousmysteries: Your help with beta reading and offering suggestions is so appreciated. I've never written anything of this magnitude before, and your encouragement was a much-needed reassurance prior to posting this. I think the story is better off having taken into account your advice, so for that, I am so grateful.

To all X-Philes: I am continuously amazed by how alive this fandom is over 30 years later. You have been so welcoming. I only watched the show for the first time in February 2023, so while I'm still fairly new around here, it doesn't really feel like it.

Now, to answer the question some of you have been asking… Will there be more?

At this time, I don't have anything planned and am not sure when I'll be writing again, but I certainly have some ideas. The way the final two chapters came together obviously skips over what could be some important or at least interesting character moments (Charlie comes to mind, as well as the whole Scully clan). If inspiration strikes, of course I'd love to expand this story into it's own series, probably consisting of mostly one-shots.

I also think it would be fun to take prompts on here for scenes you'd like to see in this universe. No promises on how quickly I'll get to them, but why not--if you have something in mind, feel free to send me an ask and I'll try to get to them as the muse hits. If I do, they'll be posted here and on AO3.

This is turning into a "midwest goodbye" of an author's note, so… Okay, that's it. Yeah. Thanks again for reading. Till next time!

<3

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [thank you all for following along and/or letting me clog your notifications for a month!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[lovebillyhargrove]

*** just harringrove sexy games

It's morning time on a Sunday, the boys wake up late, lazily eat breakfast, half in the kitchen, half in bed,

Kissing, laughing, smacking each other's asses and playfully tugging the boxers down

"I don't wanna do anything today, Billy. Just want to stay in, spend all day with you."

"Whatever you say, pretty boy. Let's stay home. I'll only go for a swim in the evening. If you let me."

"I'm not sure I will." There's a glint in Steve's eyes. "Been missing you all week."

Hargrove just scoffs.

"I feel ya." Says he like an asshole. "If I had a boyfriend like me, I'd miss him every damn second."

"Mm." Steve wants to say something back, but can't argue with Hargrove on that. The dude's absolutely right. Harrington does miss his boyfriend every damn second.

"Go take a piss and come back to bed."

"We gonna be busy?"

Steve lowers his head and bites Billy's dick through his boxers.

"Ouch."

"I'll kiss it better, I promise."

When Billy comes back and lies down on the bed, Steve takes his left hand and cuffs it to the left bedpost

"We are staying home, baby."

Hargrove grins sluttily, in anticipation

"You're very serious about that, I see."

Steve takes out another pair of cuffs, and Billy gets his right hand cuffed as well. He's sprawled out on the broad bed — gorgeous, helpless and aroused.

Steve just lets him lie there. Kisses him now and then, plays with Hargrove's hair, his hard small nipples, touches his velvety skin in various places, only not the dick in white boxers.

Takes his own t-shirt off, slides a palm over the dark chest hair. Gets rid of his own underwear, strokes himself, unhurriedly, lets Billy watch.

"Babe .. babe you promised to kiss it better ..?" The legs are restless, and the boy's trying to buck up his hips, desperate for a crumb of friction

"Yeah, later."

"But Steve, I'm already so fucking hard, my balls hurt. Everything hurts."

"Oh yeah?" Harrington fondles Billy's testicles through the fabric, but not the dick

"Yeah they feel like they are .. buzzing. Let's take the boxers off, let me see."

Harrington watches Billy's cock and balls, like an expert

"Looks painful."

"Baby please .. I need to come." His voice is an impatient pleading rasp

Steve smiles and pecks Billy's lips

"I know."

In the next hour or two Harrington tortures his boyfriend — with mischief, or plain heartless. Walks around naked, jerks off on Hargrove's abs, puts cum on his nipples

Not touching a millimetre of the cuffed boy's dick.

Takes out a dildo, puts on a show for Billy, slowly fucking himself with it, talking dirty

Hargrove's like a broken record

"Please baby I can't .. I can't. Let me cum. Let me cum, I'm in fucking pain, please."

At some point Steve does have mercy on his boy.

The moment he slides his big cock into Hargrove's wet clenching hole, still not having touched his constantly twitching, menacingly dark red dick even once

Billy shoots cum up to his own chin, bellowing.

It's painful, Steve's aware.

He lets him cum for the second time, this time all his attention — on Billy.

And then the third, lovingly, not for a second taking his hands and mouth off him, turning Hargrove into an utter mess, a useless pile of moaning substance.

They eat and sleep afterwards, go to the beach at sunset.

Living together is fucking nice.