#i love talking about the bullshit that happens in my personal life it's very fun to me

[aritany]

sorry to be nosy, but do u have any insights as someone who went through a divorce at a young age?

don't be sorry - what a fascinating question! it's STORYTIME. i don't know if this is so much my 'insights' as it is ruminations, but i digress.

i guess my number one tip would be: don't marry a bigot,,,

i'm kidding. mostly.

i'm very transparent about why i got divorced (if you know me in real life, you know how true this is), but that's what it boiled down to. i got married VERY young, 95% due to deeply religious family on both sides, 5% because i truly believed i had found the person i was going to be with forever. if you're going to be together forever, why not just bite the bullet and get married young, right?

i came out to my ex-husband as bisexual super early on in our relationship (i think 2 months into dating) because i obviously needed him to a) know i was queer and b) be cool about it, and he was. if i recall, he said, "oh. ok, good for you."

(later, he told me that that moment was almost a dealbreaker for him. i NEVER would have known, based on how he reacted in the moment.)

as a married couple, we were awesome roommates and very good friends and overall a wonderful team. then i started properly deconstructing christianity around the same time i started thinking about gender, and covid hit immediately after. i didn't come out to anyone as nonbinary until march 2021, and when i did, he was the first person i talked to. he was... significantly less cool about it than he was with bisexuality.

here's the thing. he LOVED having a wife. in hindsight, it's really easy to see that i could have been anyone, and he was really ready to settle down. i have to give myself some credit, because i think i'm excellent, but i do think that to some extent i was in the right place at the right time and checked off a lot of his boxes. if that sounds a little cold to you -- a SHOCKING amount of cishet men do this. it's weird.

anyway, i was His Wife™, and while i was by no means a traditional christian wife, i was still a very she/her slay queen girly.

then i started committing sins. (got some tattoos. started writing about The Gays. started speaking out against the church. Cut My Hair Short [cue gasps]. started dressing more androgynously.)

he couldn't get his head around using gender neutral language for me. to his students (he was in education at the time) i was His Wife. to his family, i was His Wife, even after i came out to them too. classic wifeguy stuff.

my current partner (who is SO wonderful) was in the process of becoming that best friend you have really confusing gay feelings about, and had to deal with me talking about this and how i was just going to have to settle for being with this guy who wouldn't respect my gender, even when that disrespect started actually making my skin crawl when he'd get close. because hey, marriage is for life. it didn't even occur to me that we might get divorced until about 4 days before The Conversation. i was genuinely ready to stick it out with this guy who refused to really See me, because i thought that was what i had to do.

then came The Conversation. i'd been invited to be a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding and had agreed to wear a dress, because hey, it's her wedding. if she wants bridesmaids in dresses, sure. (i was still very much reeling from my own wedding, but that's another story i'll tell if anyone's curious.)

anyway. dresses. i go to a fitting. i stand there numbly while wearing the most godawful dress i'd ever seen, feeling like Garbage. i go home. i step in the door, i burst into tears. sobbing, on the couch, i tell him that something's not right. i can't wear a dress to this wedding.

i think that was when he realized i wasn't going to grow out of being nonbinary. we had a really long, brutal conversation, mostly about how i was probably going to want top surgery one day, that ultimately resulted in him ending our marriage.

"i can't make you be somebody you're not," he told me. "but you can't make me attracted to you."

that's right, folks! the thing that ended my marriage was my tits.

we'd sat through and endured many conversations in which i shared my feelings about the church, about christianity, about the patriarchy, about gender as a whole, but in the end, the thing he could not get his head around was a version of me that didn't have a chest.

i won't lie, that shit stung. the constant rejection of my gender expression had sort of eroded any romantic love i felt for him at that point, but he'd been my closest confidant for so long by that point that i really had to work through some shit about worthiness in the weeks after. it was just surreal to me that me With tits was good and worth being married to, but a hypothetical version of me with a flat chest was so repulsive that he'd rather end a marriage than endure it.

and like, i get being a boob guy (trust me), but damn.

p.s. some really interesting notes: he waited to have this conversation with me until literally the week after i received the first 5-figure portion of my book deal advance, which meant when we were settling affairs, it counted as "marital income" and he got half, and then he hired lawyers behind my back after we said we wouldn't do that.

in hindsight? maybe it was never about the tits at all. ;)

[orcelito]

God I don't wanna go to therapy tomorrow. Sick of talking about my feelings in a clinical setting. I do enough psychoanalysis just by myself, and now I gotta sit through it with someone else??? Come on.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

Dorothy Lamour (The Jungle Princess, Road to… movies)—Ok, to be honest, I get if no one wants to vote for her--she's kind of like my ~problematic fave~ because she started in the Road (Singapore, Bali, Hong Kong, etc) movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, which are full of all sorts of exoticism tropes and usually have her playing very side-eye type roles..island princesses and things...yeah. also she banged J. Edgar Hoover. not very hot. but your honor i still think she's pretty despite all that she's pretty please look at her and tell me she's prettyyy

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Dorothy Lamour propaganda:

She started in jungle and South Seas movies and became famous in the Road series. She learned quickly to improvise when facing Bob and Bing. Road to Bali almost has her character marrying both of theirs, since she's island royalty and nobody had a problem with it - a nearly poly relationship, an epiphany for a viewer who didn't even know that that could happen! She was a popular pinup girl during World War 2, and was the first singer for the popular standard "It Could Happen to You". She sang often in her movies and has a lovely voice!

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cjv6nmF7wdk God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[stupditysholy]

I have to get this off my chest because the amount of Curly love on tik tok actually stresses me out and I’ll tell you why:

So to my understanding having experienced the game multiple times, Curly absolutely fails to advocate for/help Anya. She hides the gun to keep it away from Jim because Curly will not allow her to protect herself. He straight up calls her crazy to her face, too: “You never had to get psych evals like the rest of us. I should’ve known” or something along those lines. When Curly confronts Jim before Jim crashes the ship, he doesn’t say ANYTHING in defense of Anya, instead consoling Jim that they would figure it out, and he’d been in rough spots before.

For all intents and purposes, Curly does not see that Jim has done something inexcusable, and rather he has made a series of mistakes. He does not for one single moment consider how Anya’s life has been permanently altered, how her autonomy has been entirely stolen from her.

Until he experiences it himself.

Curly being reduced to a mostly immobile spring sausage is his way of experiencing the pain he allowed to be inflicted upon Anya, full stop. Even more ironic? Anya can’t bare to give him his pain killers, so he is left completely at Jim’s mercy, a fun-house mirror of how Curly could not bare to hold his friend accountable, and therefore left Anya at Jim’s mercy pre-crash.

Curly only becomes Jim’s victim because he allows Anya’s victimization to go on unchecked. He thought he was exempt from Jim’s abuse, and that is his biggest mistake.

Also, I have to say the idea that Curly get’s rescued and lives happily ever after does the narrative no justice. In fact, it completely undermines Jim’s entire character arc. Curly living happily ever after would, in some sense, redeem a little of Jim’s character—redemption he did not remotely earn because he did NOT take responsibility. At all.

Jim putting Curly in the pod at the end is no act of mercy. It’s actually the worst and most selfish thing he could have done. It’s the exact freaking opposite of taking responsibility. When he has his big talk with Polle before the very end, he is spouting complete and utter bullshit. Why?

The crash and Curly are NOT the things he is supposed to be taking responsibility for. The thing he is supposed to be taking responsibility for is ANYA’S TORMENT. That is the thing which started all of this, which lead to the crash, which fried Curly. That is the inciting incident.

That’s the freaking irony!

Anya get’s completely and utterly forgotten in this moment. In my opinion, this is why Polle says:

If all of that is true… why are you still so concerned with him?

Because right before that, Jim is about to say “Our worst moments don’t make us monsters.”

And Polle knows, then, in that moment, that when Jim thinks of his worst moments, he thinks of the accident, what happened to Curly, rather than the immeasurable pain he inflicted on Anya PURPOSEFULLY. Jim completely fucking ignores his worst moment, and that DOES make him a monster.

So when Jim puts Curly in that pod, not only is he righting the WRONG wrong, but he is actively choosing to believe this is what it means to take responsibility. He is making his amends to a man he accidentally hurt rather than the person who suffered the most at his hand.

It’s also pretty evil of Jim to put him in there because he knows: a good captain goes down with his ship. He makes Curly out to be a selfish and pitiful. He may even be setting him up for failure depending on how the authorities reason out what happened.

I just think at the end of the day Jim is the villian of the story, and Curly is a freaking bystander. Obviously post-crash this is inevitable, but that’s almost funny—not gonna do anything to stop him, Curly? Guess what, now you don’t even have a freaking choice.

Anyway please stop glazing the spaghetti man you can love his complexity but he is not a good guy or uwu cutie pie. He sucks. Straight up.

Feel free to start discourse in the comments I’m okay with being wrong about him I guess I just don’t think I am.

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

Hi everyone!

I have to address something that has gone on and is currently occurring. This is the last thing I want to do because I have spent eight years in different fandoms and avoided as much drama as possible. I want no part in it. I want to enjoy my time here.

Unfortunately, this is no longer drama. This is about an individual harming people, their mental health, their safe spaces, their enjoyment of fandom, their favorite ship, and their writing. This is about an individual who chooses bigotry over friendship and will align themselves with bad people for popularity.

And they don’t care who they harm by doing it.

This person made my life a living hell for over five months. It started in August, but things took a turn in October. I was finally free of them in late February because that is when a fandom event ended that tied me to them.

During this event, this person stressed me out to the point of tears. They made passive-aggressive remarks about various things, which made me feel insecure about my fic and writing. They unexpectedly changed their medium and didn’t talk to me about it before they did; I admit I was taken aback, hurt, and short with them. I apologized and took accountability the following day.

From then on, I tried to be as supportive, kind and understanding as possible.

I was “pushy” in December and January because this person had not produced a single finished piece of their art, which would total ten pieces. I knew it was too late in January to get a pinch hitter, and I don’t care that I asked a few times how it was going when I had nothing. I handed them a completed fic on August 28th. They had nothing until mid-January (and almost didn’t make it to this deadline) but didn’t start the bulk of their work until late January 22nd and finished (except polishing and watermarking) on the 26th.

Final submissions were on January 31st.

It took them four days to do what they hadn’t done in five months. I asked if they needed an extension, and we got one because they were not done by the final submission day. I had watched another writer’s artist drop out at the last minute, and mods said they couldn’t find anyone to pinch-hit for them.

This experience was a bad one. I can’t express how shitty it felt. I didn’t write for three months during it, and the fics I’ve written since then aren’t very good. I also have watched my readership disappear—getting the hits and kudos I did before October stopped.

I had a feeling this individual might have been involved if they were talking about me, but I thought I was being paranoid. I still may be, but since this has all happened, I have started to regain readers. I find that interesting.

Anyway! This whole thing ended, and it was bitter for me. I don’t have any more enjoyment in this fandom. I love my ship, but I currently have no desire to write them. I’ve been depressed and I’m scarred from fandom events. This person took away my joy when I only wanted to participate in a fandom event with my friends and have fun.

Because fandom is supposed to be fun, it’s not supposed to do this to people. It’s insane that it does this to people, and I never wanted to be involved in this bullshit.

This person has gone on to enjoy other fandom events, write and produce art, and seems to be doing fine.

Through small but interesting events, I started to learn about this individual’s ‘perspective’ on the entire thing with me. And, hoo boy, it was a fucking ride.

I am still shocked, amazed, flabbergasted and kinda pissed off about how this person lied about me. Everything they said was a complete lie. They shared my DMs via screenshots out of context, warped what we were talking about to play the victim and get sympathy, and flat-out lied numerous times. I have been accused of forcing them to do things during the event when I have screenshot proof that never happened.

For everything this individual accused me of, I provided screenshots to tell the fucking truth.

Two people have told me the same phrasing: they made me out to be a monster.

A monster.

If anyone knows me, my character, they know I’m not a goddamn monster. I try to keep my head down, stay in my lane, play in my sandbox corner, enjoy my ships, and have fun with my friends.

To be called a monster or to have someone say, ‘you’re nothing like they made you out to be,’ is the most surreal moment of my adult life.

This is fiction, fandom; it’s not real, and not everyone makes a living off it. It’s a hobby, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. Once we step away from our computers and phones, no one knows us as so and so, writer or artist of Ship. Meanwhile, this person is making me out to be the worst human being alive, and it is absolute insanity to learn how deep it goes.

The twists and turns, the lies, the complete lack of reality, the delusion. It’s creepy and disturbing. And, through finding all of this out, I pieced together a pattern of behavior that this individual has:

When you do something they don’t like, they distance themselves, become cold and passive-aggressive, and hold themselves above you. You are no longer of use to them. They dangle their friendship and attention on a lure, hoping you’ll bite, only to throw you back under.

Please understand that this is a dangerous thing—this is not fandom drama—this is a dangerous individual, and the person with whom they choose to spend their time speaks volumes.

I will not share names or screenshots. Screenshots have been shared with the right people, and I will not make it a public spectacle. I also choose to protect the privacy of my friends and others involved in this, of which there are many.

I have been accused of forcing this individual to do things, hating them and their work, being extremely pushy and stressing them out, and that my server was unwelcoming and the people in it were unkind, and various other things. Small things that didn’t mean anything to me were taken extremely personally and made into more lies to make this person a victim.

Such as my preferred formatting for posting my fic links on tumblr. They did not respect it, even though I attempted to respect their formatting for posting their art numerous times earlier, but I was told not to stress about it and, you guessed it—accused of forcing them to change things behind my back. Again, screenshots have been given to the right people.

This individual can delete everything, but we have our proof, as we have been gathering it. We will not publicly share anything, but if this individual decides to, we have the evidence to back it all up.

There were so many creepy and fucked up things that happened. I can’t list them without getting too personal, but please understand this person does not belong in our fandom.

They chase popular people, especially artists, to ‘collect’ them and lie to and manipulate their friends for sympathy. Their friends need to step away and see the light because they are being used—it’s not a real friendship. It is transactional.

And you should be offended. They will cast you aside when you’re useless to them, too.

If I seem mad, it’s because I am. I have been dealing with this since August, when I realized that many of their comments were strange. I didn’t know those were red flags at the time. This individual pretends to be friendly and claims to be ‘the nice one’ when things go wrong so they can keep their reputation. Interactions with them might seem harmless, but looking at them with a different scope makes them something far different.

Don’t ignore red flags or gut instincts.

This is my story, and it is not told exactly how I wish I could tell it. But I know this individual has hurt numerous other people. I was going to make this post without the ability to reblog, but I am leaving it open for now.

If you want to add your story, as I suspect many of you know who I am speaking of, please do. I ask that you avoid telling anyone else’s stories for them unless you have permission. Protect each other.

This stupid shit unites us. I’m not afraid anymore because I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt again and again.

This individual has befriended a known bully and transphobic person. I won’t speak any further on this because it is not my story, but please bear in mind that they chose a TERF over trans friends. And we know what they say about association.

Blindsided victims of this individual are not at fault for this person’s actions.

See something, say something. Terfs and bullies can GET FUCKED.

Share your story.

[maxiskindahere]

Hell is forever | Lute x F!Reader

i’ve become obsessed w Hazbin Hotel recently and well where’s better to write than Tumblr!

I also love x readers and Lute so this is a fun time xx

i also haven’t written in a WHILE so this is not my best work but i promise im better xx

————

CW: swearing, sexual comments

Lute was an interesting person, she wasn’t typically the type of person you’d get in with. But since meeting her & Adam, you are sure that your life has improved… to an extent.

——

“Hey, Y/N! Don’t you think Lute would so much better with less on?” Adam teases as you walk into his office “Adam, you are going to be the first man with no dick if you don’t shut up.” Y/N deadpans, plopping down beside Lute on the couch

“You’re no fun, Y/N” Adam complains, throwing his head back with a groan “I just know that if I agree with you, Lute is very much able to fuck me up.”

You know of the exterminations, and you know Lutes body count. Being on her bad side is not something you wanted.

“Please, Lute’s too busy st-“ Adam is cut off with a yelp as Lute throws something at him “Shut up, Adam.” She hisses, glaring daggers at him “Fine fine” He mutters, flipping her off as you look between them in confusion

“So what happened in Hell?” You decide to ask, knowing the extermination had happened just a week prior. “Well we had a talk with Lucifers bitch daughter today.” Adam begins in a rant about how “Charles” decided to talk about how she wants the exterminations gone and some bullshit hotel

“She seriously thinks sinners can be redeemed?” Y/N questions, leaning forward “What does Sera think about this?” Adam scoffs, rolling his eyes

“she doesn’t know, it’s not like it’s going to cause problems anyways.”

——

Adam was wrong. It was definitely going to cause problems, but that wasn’t her issue. So, she continued on with her day while waiting for the time to come when she’d meet Lute for lunch.

“Sorry!” A voice exclaims as Y/N feels someone crash into her “Fuck!” She yelps out, quickly spinning around to be met with two demons and Emily, the seraphim of joy.

The h/c girl quickly straightens up “Seraphim Emily! What… are you doing here?” She splutters out, glancing nervously at the demons “Oh hush, Y/N. You know you can call me Em when Sera isn’t around” Emily informs the girl with a happy smile.

“Right well.. Em, what is.. going on?” She questions the seraphim, still glancing between the demons “Right! This is Charlie and Vaggie! They’re representatives from Hell!” The girl cheerfully explains

Y/N’s eyes widen “Holy crap! You’re the princess aren’t you?” She asks Charlie, whose face flushes “Yep, that’s me..!” She says awkwardly before taking Vaggies hand in hers “This is my girlfriend, Vaggie” She introduces with a soft smile

Y/N grins “I knew gay people went to he-“ She’s cut off by Emily wacking her lightly “I’m kidding! That’s sick, congrats” She says softly, fluttering her wings

“So, you here about this.. hotel thing?” Y/N questions, crossing her arms together “How do you know about that?” Emily quizzes the girl who pauses for a second “Uh, Lute told me!” She quickly states, rubbing her arm

Emily’s eyes widen “please tell me you two are-“ Before Emily can continue, Y/N spots Lute approaching the four “Respectfully, your majesty please stop” Y/N hisses out as Lute reaches them

“Y/N, where have you been?” Lute asks the girl, anger clear in her voice “Sorry, I ran into these lovely girls and you know how I feel about ditching people” Y/N states innocently, smirking at the anger in Lutes eyes “And you know how I feel about waiting, finish up here and meet me in my office.” Is all the taller girl says before departing

“She seems.. nice.” Charlie says after a few moments of silence “Oh she is, I just don’t think she likes demons” Y/N comments, she knew Emily was unaware of the exterminations and she was not about to admit that she knew to anyone.

“I’m not sure why, you two are lovely” Emily pouts, causing Charlie and Vaggie to give her light smiles “But uh, I better go.. Lute will be a pain if I keep her waiting much longer” She says, excusing herself as she bids farewell to the trio and makes her way to Lute’s office

“Hey..” Y/N says awkwardly, walking into the unlit office before being slammed against the now shut door “I can’t believe you!” Lute exclaims, glaring down at Y/N

“What did I do?” The girl yelps out, feeling the pain rush to her wings “You’re talking with Vaggie! Of all people!” Suddenly everything made sense.

Lute was always fighting for Adam’s favouritism with Vaggie. She was better than Vaggie in every way, but until Vaggies betrayal Adam couldn’t see it.

Since then, the girl had some serious issues with abandonment.

“Oh cmon Lute! You know I don’t care about that failure” Y/N tries to reassure as she feels Lutes heavy breathing hit her face “I only care about you, I promise” Y/N says softly as she notices Lutes eyes soften

“Sorry.” Lute mutters, still holding Y/N against the door “I know a way you can make it up to me” Y/N mumbles, looking down at Lutes lips before glancing back up at her eyes which were wide in surprise before slowly leaning down and capturing the angels lips.

Y/N quickly reciprocates the kiss, wrapping her arms around Lutes neck and pulling her closer, desperate to have the girl closer to her.

But before anymore could be done, Adam suddenly barges in knocking the two away from each other

“The trials starting, come on.”

—

[chaotic-mystery]

Code Red Chapter Eight | I Could Fly Home, With My Eyes Closed

Pairing: No outbreak AU dbf!Joel Miller x f!OC (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: Everything's going good with Joel and your life, but is it almost too good? What happens when you put Joel on the spot about taking a vacation together?

Content Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only blog MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, strained father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, swearing, arguing, mentions of anxiety and how that feels, angst, showering with Joel, hand job, dirty talk, morning sex, penetration (p in v), pet names (Joel refers to himself as daddy and you call him that as well), worshipping, fantasizing about eating you out at work, power dynamic, reader smokes. (If I've missed anything please let me know!)

Authors Note: I'm back. After some long thinking I decided it would be best to change Code Red from a reader insert to a female OC told in 2nd POV. There's just too much in here that adds to the story and dynamics for it to continue to be a reader insert while also being a blank slate. I want to reiterate the reader IS NOT physically described in any way other than having hair long enough to push away from the face. There's an underlying personality that I want to add and explore more and I hope you guys love it just as much as I do. Thank you always @pedgito for beta-ing for me, I love you. I love you all and thank you for the constant support on this. || wc: 5.3k || notif blog || ao3 ||

Every night for the past few months you were staying late at work with Joel to help him sort through the blueprints Tommy left out all over the place during the day. Joel’s hands rest on your shoulders as you sit at your desk, typing up some paperwork so you don’t have to worry about it later.He leans down close to your ear and ever so softly glides his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Can we go now, baby? S’getting late and I need to get some food in my belly.” A soft kiss to your cheek makes you smile, face growing warmer by the second. 

“Just one more and then I’ll be done, I swear it.” You chuckle and squirm away, trying to type as fast as you can. His lips motivate you to keep going and soon enough his hands follow, dragging up your sides and stopping right over your wrists. 

“No, no more. It’ll be here for tomorrow.” Your chair spins around and you become face to face with Joel. 

“Mmmm I’m not too sure if my boss will like that.” You joke.

A grin fights to spread on his lips. “Yeah, baby? Since when do you care about making me upset?”  

“Since always.” Bullshit. You make him upset for the fun of it. The way his brows knit together and he gets that frown, arms crossed over his chest. He looked so good when he was mad. 

He reaches out his hand and pushes back on your chair to make it recline the closer he gets to your face, a small hum coming from his mouth. Menthol and tobacco tickles your nose as Joel leans in as close as he can before touching his plush lips to yours. You can almost taste him. You need him so badly. 

“You’re not a very good liar, sweet girl.” 

He finally closes the gap between you two and his tongue immediately wants access to your mouth which you happily oblige. Pulling him closer as if he was going to disappear, you run your fingers through his dirty curls at the nape of his neck. He was your drug and by god did you need every single ounce of him. Soft grunts come from between his lips which causes you to smirk between kisses and makes you wonder how far he’d let this go right here at your desk. 

Just as you grab his shirt to pull it from where it was tucked in his jeans, Joel laughs and pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. 

“Come on, let’s go home.” 

Home. 

What he means is your house, but home slipped out so effortlessly. Like clock work he’d drive you two back to your shared neighborhood and he’d grab clothes from his house and usually something to read, either the farmers almanac or a magazine from the gas station, and come over to eat dinner with you before you hole up for the night and relax. It was only on nights Sarah wasn’t home and with her mother, as she had no idea about her dad dating the cool neighbor to the left of them. You respected the idea of him not wanting to tell her yet. The feeling always came back to you late at night when Joel was asleep in your bed with soft snores coming from him, always reminding you how wonderful he really was. Joel would never put Sarah in the position to constantly have women coming and going in her life, confusing her every single time she’d come back to his house and learn her dad was no longer with his girlfriend. Alan on the other hand, was good at making your life feel like a revolving door, no stability, no good people around besides what little family of his he tolerated. Joel is the complete opposite of him and how they’re friends, you’ll never understand. 

✮

You toss your purse onto the counter as Joel locks the deadbolt on the front door before he kicks his boots off onto the mat and groans tiredly as his feet rest flat on the hardwood floor. You grab a glass from the cabinet above your head to pour yourself a glass of water to go with your fries from the diner you just left. Joel looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face as he walks over to you. 

“What are you doin’, I thought you were full?”

You put a fry in your mouth and look at him before answering.

“No, but I noticed how tired you were and I didn’t want you to wait on me to finish so that’s why I asked Pearl for a box. No big deal baby, it’s fine.” 

Joel's face drops as he starts to understand why you did what you did. 

“Baby…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing, “please don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You question with a mouth full of french fries and look at him confused. You weren’t seeing an issue with what you did but it was clear Joel was feeling differently. 

“This. Don’t rush yourself and not finish eating because you think I’m annoyed you’re taking too long or whatever may be the case.” Joel checks his tone and makes sure he’s not coming across as mad, but concerned. 

He steps in front of you and grabs your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek slowly as he looks at your eyes. 

“As corny as this is gonna sound, I'm gonna say it anyway. I will always wait for you, doesn’t matter what Im waiting on you for. If you’re eating I want you to enjoy your food, not look at me and think you gotta finish the rest at home because you think I’m gonna get mad at ya. Take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” His attempt at reassuring you ends with a kiss to your forehead and his arms wrapping around you tightly until you’re against him with not an inch between you two. 

Your throat tightens with the need to apologize for doing that, as if you’ve done something wrong. 

“Okay…I’m sorry…” You mutter against his chest. 

“It’s fine, honey. I’m not mad at ya. Tell you what, why don’t I go shower and then we can watch a movie. How’s that sound?” You kiss him in agreement and Joel gives you a tired smile before he walks towards the bathroom with his clean clothes in hand. Time ticks on and it feels like eternity before you hear the water start and the shower curtain close and you couldn’t help but want to sit in there with him and just be near him. He made you finally feel comfortable in every aspect of yourself to allow yourself the small things as such.

You walk over to the bathroom door and clutch the crystal door knob to give it a turn and open the door just enough for you to slip inside. Steam whooshes past your face and the smell of your cucumber melon body wash fills your nose and you can’t help but smile at him smelling like you, never gets old.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” Joel hollers in a playful tone as he lathers his body with soap. 

You rest against the sink with your arms folded over your chest and for a second you think about ripping your clothes off to join him. You must’ve been taking too long to respond, suddenly your face was sprinkled with water to snap you back to reality. 

“You just gonna stand there and be silent or are you gonna get your ass in here?” 

That was all you needed to hear. Your clothes were on the floor before he could finish rinsing the stress filled day off his body. Joel turns around to the back of the shower and looks at you kind of surprised, not thinking you’d really join him in the shower. He switches spots with you and your eyes flutter shut with the trail of warm water running down your body until you’re covered in it. 

“Do you want me to wash your back for you, honey?” 

You think for a moment and answer Joel truthfully.

“Not at the moment but um…I was wondering if you’d hold me? Just for a second and then I’ll wa-“ 

Joel stops you by wrapping his arms around your torso from behind and giving you a light squeeze to let you know it’s okay. 

Nothing mattered in that moment besides him in that ugly green bathroom you hated so much, with his arms wrapped around you as if he’s won the lottery or something. To him he did, he definitely won. 

Joel, trying to be as much of a gentleman as he could be, starts to inch his fingers down your hip little by little, tugging you closer against his groin. 

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck I’m so lucky to even be this close to you.” He kisses your shoulder and continues speaking.

“To touch you.” A kiss between your shoulder blades.

“To see your bratty ass sitting so pretty at that desk at work…bet you didn’t even know you make me so hard I have to distract myself with something else before I do something I’ll regret.” His teeth ever so slightly graze your earlobe before he spins you around to face him. 

You open your eyes slowly and decide to test him a little more. 

“Like what? What would you do that you’d regret?” Smoothing over his sides beneath the warm water, you kiss his chest and hear his breath shudder, distracted from giving you a polite version of his answer. 

“To take you to the bathroom stall and eat your pussy until you’re screaming against my hand on your mouth, begging me to stop.”

“What makes you think I’d let you get that far before I’d get my hands on you?” You retort. Joke was on him, you’d never let him get ahead of you like that before you got your way with him first.

Still, you wanted to play this game with him. Before he could respond, you lean up and kiss him roughly, your hand traveling down his stomach until you bump his cock, already half hard just thinking about having you in such a predicament. 

A moan chokes out from Joel as if he’s been holding that one back forever and you can’t help but get into how much power you have over him, regardless what he says. Each stroke to his cock from your wet hand earns you a louder moan than the previous one, his hand reaching down desperately to cup your ass, water splashing against your feet harshly.

“F-fuck baby, jus’ like that. My god-” 

You hook your arm on his shoulder to keep him still as you go faster and kiss his neck, more and more moans pouring from his soft lips like honey. Joel’s knees begin to buckle a little and you smirk in the crook of his neck before biting the skin just enough to make him wince. 

“You’re so fucking hard, Joel. Dirty old man, thinking about eating me out at work. Tsk tsk tsk.” Whatever he’s been doing to you over the past months was giving you this new found confidence to be a dirty talker and a little dominant even though you were the biggest brat he’s ever crossed. 

Joel’s eyes squeeze tight as he takes in your words mixed with your hand curling just right over the sensitive tip. 

“O-old man, huh? But you wanna suck this old man's dick, don’t you?” 

He got you there, you wanted to do more than that. 

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

“What did I say earlier, honey…you’re not a very good liar.” He moans out and you pump his cock faster, hoping it would keep him from talking. 

Just as his groans echoes off the tile of the shower walls, you hear tires on the gravel driveway outside. You both stop in your places and turn to look out the small window above your head and notice your dad’s truck in your driveway. 

Fuck. 

Immediately you shut the water off and throw Joel’s towel at him and tell him to stay in the tub before you close the curtain on him and wrap a new towel around you from the closet. Hastily you begin to run around your entire place trying to grab anything that remotely looked like someone else was here with you. Joel’s boots sitting by the front door catches your eye and you bend down to grab them, hearing your doorbell ring. A big clunk comes from the boots hitting the closet floor before you close the doors and you can see your father’s shadow in the frosted glass of your front door. 

Fuck.

Three loud knocks to the glass pane makes you jump and you holler loud enough for him to hear outside, “One second! Hold on!” You run to your room and throw on a robe quickly before making your way back to the door with the fabric tied tightly around your body. 

You open the door to face your dad’s back and he turns to face you. 

“Bad time?” He dryly asks. 

“N-no, I was just getting out of the shower. Not trying to be rude but what are you doing here? It’s so late and I didn’t know you knew where I lived…” You close the collar on your robe more as the wind breezes past, sending goosebumps down your already anxious body. 

“I uh, I didn’t. I came to see Joel but he’s probably asleep, didn’t answer…and I noticed your car over here, didn’t know yall were neighbors.” He breathes in sharply as if he’s offended you didn’t share that with him. 

“So do I get to see the place or not?” He half asks as he’s trying to step inside before you give your answer. Noticing how pushy he’s being, it’s clear something is bothering him but he won’t spit it out. 

“No it’s really messy in here, I’ll invite you back though, promise.” You hold the door against your side tightly, foot behind it to keep it still. The awkwardness lingers while he processes you telling him no, something he’s never been able to understand when it comes from you. 

Tongue in cheek, he nods a little disappointedly and steps backwards to the railing of the porch. 

“S’okay. Didn’t think you’d want your dad in your space anyway, I get it.” There it was. The same sad sob story he always gave, his favorite card to play the second you didn’t turn into his puppet like you used to as a little girl. 

“Dad-” you begin, “-it’s not like that, I swear.” Your head falls as you can feel yourself getting more and more upset by the second. Nothing good is going to come from this, from him knowing you live here. Next to Joel. 

“Did you find a new job yet? The girls down at the bar keep talkin’ about how everyone around here knows about the little fight you caused months ago and now no one wants to hire ya.” The nerve he had to come over here, thinking you’d be chit chatty at almost eleven o’clock at night, just to hear how those bitches down at the bar that don’t even know you, tell your dad about his own daughter. 

Speechless, you stand there with a growing lump in your throat that acted as a net and stole every single word that you attempted to choke out. 

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t look good on me.” 

Unbelievable.

Blood boiling like water on a stove, you sigh loudly and stand straight up, ready to tell him exactly what you were thinking.

“I have a job now, thanks. I’ve had one for a few months now, actually. Thank you for coming over here and insulting me and telling me what the girls at that grimey fucking bar think of me. I really appreciate it, dad. Goodnight.” You slam the door and lock it before he has the chance to open it and knowing him he would. Within seconds your heartbeat begins to race and your head gets dizzy, Joel takes notice and he’s clothed now as he comes from around the corner. There’s no room to care that he heard every word of what just happened, you can’t get air into your lungs fast enough and you look panicked at him. 

“J-Joel I-” You clutch your chest and glance around the room quickly.

He rushes over to you and cups your face, muttering something to soothe you but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“I-I’m gonna go sh-shower.” 

“Baby, are you okay? Do you want me to come sit in there with you?” He asks but everything seems so muffled over the beat of your own heart that hasn’t slowed yet. You wander towards the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it without answering Joel. Warm tears glide down your cheeks as you start the water once more and step in, your cold body shivering under the now hot water that feels like it’s going to melt your skin off. 

Why would he say that? Surely he defended you to them, right? As a father, he could not have just sat there and let them talk about you like that, no way. Anyone in their right mind would never let someone talk about their daughter in such a manner but this was your dad, and he wasn’t a regular dad. 

Trails of water run down your back and you stand in silence with a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs you started to let out. You couldn’t tell if it was tears or water from the shower coating your face anymore. 

✮

The sunlight slowly begins to pour into your bedroom, mourning doves singing faintly as they sit in the trees. As you lay there with Joel snoring on his back next to you, you couldn’t help but replay the night before. Your dad knowing where you live, especially next to Joel, wasn’t something you ever planned on sharing. Deep in thought, you didn’t even notice Joel stirring awake next to you until you’re engulfed by his arms wrapping around you and tugging you into him. 

“Good morning, baby.” He mumbles in your ear and nuzzles into your neck, eyes still shut. His favorite thing to do as soon as he’s awake is to pull you close and have a cuddle before you get up for the day, but today felt different. The house was silent but there was this unmentioned tenseness you didn’t talk about from last night and you weren’t even sure if he did hear everything your dad said to you. 

Failure. An embarrassment. How long before Joel soon started to see you that way?

“Hey…you’re doin’ too much thinkin’ before you’ve had coffee. What’s the matter?” Soft kisses to your cheek snaps you out of it and you try to shake it off. 

“Nothin, it’s nothing. Do you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than you were Joel. 

“I want this. Just stay like this a little longer.” Joel presses more kisses to your shoulder and trails them over your chest until you’re on your back, tucked under him snugly. 

“You don't really want that.” 

Joel scoffs and dips his head under the covers to soon place his mouth on your stomach. “It’s exactly-“ he pecks your skin, “-what I want.” A low groan vibrates against your belly and you laugh slightly from the tickling sensation as your fingers manage their way into his soft bed head. 

Hooking his index and middle finger in the waistband of your panties, Joel starts to trail his mouth down your abdomen and bites at the blue cotton fabric covering your growing aching heat by the second. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Joel kisses your clothed pussy before dipping his fingers inside right to your clit. Slipping against his fingers makes you moan in his mouth and press your body against his enough to make your nipples brush against his arm. 

“J-fuck-Joel, please fuck me, god damn. Fuck me.” Your whiny pleads only make him finger you in more of a teasing manner, changing speeds and styles sporadically against your desperate attempts to fuck yourself against him. His mouth falls open to bite your earlobe while his fingers toy with your entrance. 

“You want daddy’s big dick inside you, hm? Use your manners.” His left hand comes up to rest on your windpipe as he kisses your lips. 

“Please, please please, daddy, please fill me up.” 

Everything was different this morning, even the sex. He felt more gentle with his actions, not wanting to throw you around like a ragdoll this time and it was a nice change for you. 

With a swift move Joel shucks off his basketball shorts and runs the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal as his lube. 

“That’s right, such a good girl for me.” His finger swirls slowly on your plush lips before going inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue softly. Like muscle memory, you suck his finger and bite down firmly when he puts his cock inside you, the pressure subduing rather quickly when you adjust to him. 

Quivering warm breaths hit your neck as Joel buries his face into you. Moaning and groaning echo off your bedroom walls and you feel Joel nibble on your neck trying to get you to moan louder for him. 

“Yesss oh my god Joel, just like that please.” Your slurred words go quieter as his hips slam into you, but it wasn’t the normal rough sex. The passion was through the roof and he wanted to make you feel worshiped. 

“You’re so good to me baby doll, so damn good to me.” His husky voice is like liquid velvet in your ears and you can’t get enough. Joel’s name flys from your mouth with every other curse word you can rattle off as you start to feel that burning sensation in the pits of your belly. Arms wrapping around his neck and nails clawing at his back, your legs close around his waist subconsciously, trying to get him deep inside you as you could. It felt too good to let him sit up and pound into you, that’s not what you wanted. 

Chasing that orgasm, Joel starts to whimper in your ear everything you want to hear, squirming on top of you as he made it his mission to make you come before he did and he was putting in the work. Joel’s mouth around your nipples, biting and sucking for moments at a time before he goes back to your neck, then back to your nipples. 

“Cmon, jus’ like that. F-fuck, baby-ughhh-yes, I-I-” His words fall short on your lips as they connect, tongues dancing in the middle together. 

“I-I love y-you” was the last thing you heard before coming on his cock thrusting deeply inside of you and with a few more pumps, Joel was shooting warm ropes of cum inside you. 

Panting underneath him trying to catch your breath, you smooth the curls at the nape of his neck and whisper, “I love you too.”

I love you. 

Of course you wanted to say it months ago, hell, you’ve been waiting to say it since he defended you that night at White Pony. Being with him for the last eight months was nothing short of trying. You butt heads like no one’s business and throw little comments at each other under your breaths and he doesn’t take your shit, as do you his. 

I love you.

It sounded so good coming from him. 

I love you.

✮

Seeing Joel all fucked out and snoring softly in your room with pink sheets and pillowcases surrounding him makes you laugh quietly to yourself, the most southern man you’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid to sleep in a hyper pink room. He always tells you it’s the best sleep he can get but you’re convinced it’s just your mattress he loves. 

A knock on your front door makes you jump slightly. A Saturday morning and someone knocking on your door? Probably the neighborhood kids playing around. Pulling on your black sweatpants and a clean shirt from off the floor, you slink down the stairs and open the front door to a bouquet of roses sitting right at the edge of the stairs. 

What the fuck?

Small rainbows casted onto the wooden porch as the sun shined through it, roses dancing ever so gracefully in the breeze. A card poked through the bubblegum pink bulbs and you could feel your anxiety growing from something you were unsure about. Not many had your address but now that your dad knows where you live, who knows what shit he’d pull. 

“Miss you, baby girl! I’m so proud of you for doing what’s best for you. Hope these get to you when you need them the most. 

-mom” 

She always did have a good intuition of when you needed her the most. You dip inside without making too much noise  to grab your cigarettes and lighter from your purse sitting by the coat rack, closing the front door softly to assure Joel wouldn’t wake. 

Warm tobacco fills your lungs to take the edge off your anxiety and for some reason you couldn’t stop feeling like you needed to go see your mom. She had a cabin out in Michigan right in South Haven near the beach, private and secluded just how she always wanted, that you never grew tired of being in. It’s been years since you’ve got to go due to work and moving all over the place to get away from your mistakes that seemed to follow no matter where you went. Texas was safe, for now at least. 

The slowly burning cigarette was getting towards the end and you crushed the butt against the sidewalk before flicking it into the pebbles by your bushes and groaning at yourself mentally, knowing Joel will see it and give you an earful later about doing that. 

Why shouldn’t you go see your mom? You had the money saved up and it didn’t seem to be too hard to get your boss to agree to give you the time off. Your feet move as fast as they can back inside the house to the counter to set the flowers down and then upstairs to Joel in your bed, sound asleep on his stomach with his face barely visible behind his bicep of his arm tucked under the satin pink pillow. 

Climbing on top of him and basically straddling his ass, you pull the covers off him and rub his back slowly, dragging your nails up and down his skin softly. A couple of mumbles leave his lips as he stirs under you, his other arm reaching backwards and squeezing your leg just enough to realize it was you. 

“Mmmmbabyyyy whasthemaddur?” His cheeks squished together distort his words but by this point you were fluent in half asleep Joel language. 

“I need to ask my boss something but I don’t know what he’ll say.” You giggle and kiss the top of his back and lay your chest on him, your arms at his sides comfortably. His heart was beating faster with every rise and fall of breath he takes in. 

“I was um…I was thinking ya know…I want to go see my mom, in Michigan.” You looked in his direction before continuing. “And I was wondering if I could get maybe a week off? Pleaseeee.” You drag out the last word and start to kiss his back more in hopes he’d comply and give in faster. Was Joel really prepared to tell you no? 

He turns his head the opposite way and coughs as he wakes up more, chuckling at your attempts to butter him up. 

“You, my favorite worker, want a week off? To go on vacation? The nerve!” Joel’s dramatic tone takes you by surprise and you continue kissing his back trying to contain your laughter.

“She lives in Michigan? Must be pretty nice there on the lake- never been but I’ve been to Chicago a few times, real pretty out on the water.” The softness in his voice makes your heart swell a little and before you can stop yourself you ask flat out, “what if you came with me?” 

Joel turns to the side and dumps you onto the bed before sitting up to look at you.

“What?” The smile was long gone now from where it was mere seconds ago on his face.

You push the fluffy comforter out of your sight and meet his eyes.

“Come with me. Let me show you around Michigan and you can meet my mom, maybe.” Everything felt right, it felt like the right time for Joel to meet your mom, having been together for eight months now.

Joel fiddles with the loose thread coming from the cover and you start to get that anxious feeling again.

“I um…I can’t, darlin’...I’m sorry. I just-” He stops but he doesn’t know how to continue, so he doesn’t attempt to say more for what felt like eternity. “With Sarah and everything I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I get it.” Your voice cracks and you sit up facing the wall to hastily wipe your face and pretend like that didn’t just break your heart a little. 

✮

A couple weeks pass and it’s been awkward between you and Joel since he shut down the idea of meeting your mother. It wasn’t like you’d be around her the entire trip but he didn’t give you a chance to explain either. Maybe that was too far for his boundaries. 

With your flight booked and your bags packed sitting by the front door, Joel had been distant at work and didn’t stay for long when he’d come over after work. Was this your punishment for trying to grow with him?

As you dragged your luggage to the driver you booked, you notice Joel’s truck gone from his driveway and your heart drops in your chest. Not even a goodbye, see you when you get back, nothing. 

You get in the back of the car and drive to the airport with tears stinging your eyes. You’ve officially scared him off and he wants nothing to do with you now. 

His phone rings four times before you get his voicemail, that voice is like music to your ears. 

“This is Joel, I uh- I can’t come to the phone right now but leave me a message I call ya back- bye.”

The recording beeps and suddenly you’re speaking exactly what you’re thinking.

 “Joel…it’s me. I um-“ your voice cracks, a tear rolling down your cheek, “-I’m on my way to the airport right now…I just wanted to say bye. I walked over but you weren’t home even though I told you when I was leaving. Why are you doing this to me? I don’t understand…” 

The tears were flowing down your warm face, the driver nervously looking in his rear view mirror to check on you. You hang up the phone angrily before tossing it in your purse. What once was a beautiful view and lovely drive became a cry fest and blurred by tears. 

Within an hour the driver pulls up to the airport and helps you with your stuff, telling you to have a safe trip before driving off. So many couples littered the building inside, scattered off to the side either reuniting or departing, some leaving together. That should’ve been you and Joel. Ugly airport outfits and coffee in hand, laughing at the delusion that riddled your tired brains. 

You plop down on the bench near your gate and pull out your book, the faeries and mortals making it seem so much better than here. 

“You gonna read the whole time we’re in Michigan or?” That fucking voice. 

Joel.

You practically break your neck to turn and look at him, a filthy smirk plastered on his face. 

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[memelleity]

abigail sentence starters

i’m sorry about what’s gonna happen to you.

our game ends here.

how many bodies we talking?

i thought i heard someone out here.

let’s just leave. get the fuck out of dodge.

i love you so much. and i’m so proud of you.

vampire on my ass! vampire!

a deal’s a deal.

i can smell your blood.

i like your tattoos. do they have a meaning, or…

you got bullied in school? probably by dad, too. so when you got bigger than everyone else, you turned the tables.

i’ve always hated this room. lot of painful memories.

you’ve made a mistake.

are you lying to me?

so, you got a boyfriend or… something like that?

what’s happening?

___’s not here.

promise me you’re not gonna let anybody hurt me?

you’re the one good thing i did in life. and i just needed you to hear that.

what can i say? i like playing with my food.

you in recovery or something? how many days you got?

my dad, well… he thought he wanted a child, but then he just lost interest.

please, please let me out.

you literally got nothing right.

can we not do this, please?

you’re not as smart as you think you are.

i saw the way you were looking at me earlier.

all right, let’s go kill us a fuckin’ vampire.

i’m scared.

you don’t get your hands dirty and tell yourself that makes what you do not as bad. good luck when the illusion wears off.

fucking bullshit. it’s not about the money. the money’s an excuse.

you backstabbing son of a…

i couldn’t sleep. i heard something.

here’s the thing about being a vampire. it takes a long fucking time to learn how to do all the cool shit.

something doesn’t add up.

listen, you sit here and bleed… or you trust me.

i didn’t mean to scare you.

you want to have some fun? all right. let’s have some fun.

you’re just in time for dinner.

there’s a secret door in the library. the bookshelf on the right wall.

why do you have a dick on your face?

this whole thing is a trap.

you’re so bloody and so gross.

getting shot hurts!

how much do you trust ___?

shut the fuck up!

oh, you’re a fucking priest now?

i came when you needed me. i’m here now.

i don’t scare easy. so when i do, i pay attention.

i feel like i got bit by a fucking vampire!

tell me one true thing about me.

what color are my eyes?

i can’t breathe.

i just, um… i can’t do it.

if this is about revenge, why didn’t you just kill us?

you fucking set me up.

the hard part is already over.

with that money… i can start over, you know?

that wasn’t a lie.

i like you. you’re scary, though.

god, everybody’s got to be a fucking victim now.

if you fucking say, ‘i told you so’…

you could be the richest headless man in america.

i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but you don’t sound very calm right now.

you’re mine. you’re mine.

wow. you got a lot going on up there, but your brain’s not quite putting it together, huh?

do you have any kids?

nothing different about you. nothing special. just something to help me pass the time.

___ was here when you weren’t.

i just want to get to the bottom of this, you know?

i’ve had a few centuries of experience.

we got a real fucking situation here. so i don’t give a shit what you think. either you’re helping us, or you’re dead weight.

i feel sick.

i’d really prefer not to have to fucking shoot you.

this is so fucking disgusting.

you changed your name, you left town, and you never saw your family again… but it wasn’t for their safety, was it?

keep an eye on the door.

you grew up with a bunch of brothers and sisters, huh?

you’re gonna be a real pain in my ass, aren’t you?

looking for some light reading?

i’m not gonna touch you.

can you take the blindfold off? it’s really tight.

this isn’t the time for sarcasm, okay?

let’s watch each other’s backs.

that’s an urban legend. calm down.

i fucking hate ballet.

you shot me! you shot me!

i brought you here to offer you a deal.

just had to do your little magic trick, didn’t you?

you think i could do that?

maybe it’s worth a try.

you’re my friend.

wow. you might be the least perceptive person i’ve ever met.

i’m sorry. did i hit a fucking nerve?

no. i’m not betting our lives on your fucking hunch.

we’ve got to get out of here. there’s got to be another way.

i’ve gone by many names over the countless years.

you can have anything you fucking want.

bite me.

what the fuck?

[conceptofjoy]

how do u imagine the Dynamic between dave and davepeta postgame. ik ur more of a dsprite fan than dp but i think it could/would be Very fascinating. plays a role in cracking daves eggy loking thign

i love both very dearly :) i draw dsprite a lot more partly bc of the self imposed sprite rules i made for my pc au. seb’s an exception, lets just say some kind of splinter bullshit happened lol.

pre retcon dave had that convo w jade abt ds. the way he talked abt him’s can be easily summarized by saing “hes me when it’s beneficial and not me when it makes me uncomfortable/ makes me need to confront some things.”

he’d totally just compartmentalize any interactions in that way lmfao. oh so youre a catbird sprite thing? alright im an ally do your thing bro i mean they. nepeta’s side of things wants to just PRY him open and the dave side’s like this is going to be so much fun. dps wants to fuck with him SOOO badly but also doesnt want him to run away from the egg crackification process. dave keeps avoiding dps not so casually but jade keeps looking at him disappointedly so they have to hang out. jade knows that theyre pulling something’s so tells dps to ease up on dave but thats literally an impossible ask.

dps explains some stuff about the gender thing bc dave is only casually interested. totally.

DAVE: so like a boy and a girl came together to make a nonbinary person?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B//< ummm

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< something like that!

DAVE: i dunno it seems pretty clear cut

DAVE: oh shit unless the bird also had some kinda bird gender and shook things up

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: >B33< yeah i had to do all kinds of gender maths as soon as i came into existence

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< did you know bird gender and cat gender cancel each other out?

DAVE: no shit?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< no that was a joke dump ass!

DAVE: i knew that

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< sure

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< well i dont think the bird had anything to do with the gender maths. or the sword

DAVE: sword gender…

DAVE: wait wasnt the bird a mama bird?

DAVE: seemed pretty intent on keeping our game egg to herself remember?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B00< ohhh yeah

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< my bad

DAVE: you remember being a bird???

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< no comment

DAVE: oh shit thats not very dave of you

DAVE: any dave i know would jump right into a whole spiel about how tough life is as a single bird mom

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: >B33< well dave thats because… im not you!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< we went over this before! lets go back to the gender thing

DAVE: yeah yeah

DAVE: ok gender

DAVE: so a human boy a troll girl a bird mom and a sword walk into two kernel sprites

DAVE: wait shit do the kernel sprite have genders too?

DAVE: kernel gend-

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: XOO< holy shit i think i get what equius went through

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< do you see what youre doing to me dave? youre making me sympathize with a sweaty and incredibly silly 13 year old troll boy

DAVE: haha youre funny as shit

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< thank you

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< yeah while the other components probably added some other gender stuff

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< it was mostly dave and nepeta’s gender that influenced mine

DAVE: yeah alright

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< like nepeta for example

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< grew up away from society and barely had to deal with the caste system

DAVE: sure

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< theres specifc roles assigned to each gender and caste but nepeta just didnt get the memo

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< despite the friend group being a pretty non hemoist

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B??< hemoist?

DAVE: sure hemoist

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< well despite the group being all “who gives a crap about your blood color and gender”

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< nepeta still felt like there was just something no one decided to tell him that dictated every interaction he had with everyone else

DAVE: yeah i totally get tha-

DAVE: wait “him”?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< …

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘833< what?

DAVE: wait was nepeta a boy???

DAVE: oh shit how did no one ever correct me this whole time-

DAVE: no wait pause

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘B33< paws

DAVE: paws

DAVE: no stop that

DAVE: if nepeta’s a boy and im a boy…

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘B33< …

DAVE: were you lying about the bird gender thing or???

DAVEPETASPRITE^2:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< yes dave. i really am part boy gender and part bird mom gender

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< *SIGH* i think thats enough for today. i tried my best

DAVE: huh?

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM TASKMASTER SEASON 16 *  assorted dialogue from the tv show, adjust as necessary

you look so nice, but underneath it all, you're just a shit.

it's just exciting to know people are talking about me.

i don't want to be in there with some wet guy.

oh, i'm gonna push this bitch.

are you a child of divorce?

to this day, i don't know what vibe i give off.

i know it's annoying, but it's all i've got so... just let me have it.

i've never done that.

i'm actually quite good with a sword.

this is one of the most exhausting things i've ever done.

why didn't i just draw a cock and balls?

i don't know why i said that, 'cause i don't really regret it.

you're easy to look at than i am.

oh, you're here. what a thrill.

you absolute anus!

you've got a friend?

would it be mischievous to say things that i'm not supposed to say?

can i just say, i love weapons.

you made me say every country in europe.

do you have a license?

if i do nothing else in this life, that was worth it.

[name], the heat is on.

what sort of cool things do you want?

stick that in your pipe.

i knew what had happened, and even i was swept along by the narrative.

it was avant-garde. it was french cinema.

good luck with your career.

bit late for a banana.

it was very, very cold that day and i wanted to get it over with.

is that your starting position?

i knew it was something boring.

don't have to tell me twice.

it is the least sexy thing that anyone's ever said to anyone.

i don't like going upside down.

what have i done? oh dear. what have i done?

it's nice, it's harmless, it's warm.

this thing is disgusting.

that's useless. that's worse than useless.

i also agree with them. you are sick.

your pie technique was dreadful.

i really like it when you're disappointed in us.

oh, is there a fire? how awful.

nothing going through my head is family friendly. not one idea.

lovely legs, sir!

you got a problem?

that was heterosexual male banter.

are you a superstitious person?

it's too late for that.

do i just choose a name?

i can drive people crazy.

that is a true story, and i feel a bit sick.

i bought it to annoy my husband 'cause i thought he'd hate it.

i'm well-presented, very smart, and available for no-strings fun round the back of the barracks.

what room am i in?

what's your favorite number?

why is there smoke?

running a business is bullshit.

when i think exercise, i think exorcism.

we're not allowed to work with nature?

we were at a wedding together once, and i made you eat a whole pat of butter.

obviously you want to put it on a penis.

are you joking me?

is this something that would excite a heterosexual?

you're going to get a lot of letters.

i'm gonna go for plan b and just throw some things.

is this your stage persona, or is this what you're like?

i don't know what you mean.

you can hide in there waiting for your victims.

i'm sorry, i nearly killed you.

is it appropriate to call him "sir?"

i just really like the idea of stuffing a massive stick up a mannequin's arse and rotating it like a rotisserie chicken.

i was made for this.

i was told by an ex that i have the hands of a midwife.

is that a compulsive disorder of some kind?

what an absolute shower of shits you are.

[archangeldyke-all]

HIIII. I’m gonna like try one last time to make a request cause I understand you said there’s something up with your inbox and idk if like tumblr keeps eating mine but anyways—

How about sevika with a reader who’s fucking hilarious/super nice and makes her laugh but when it comes to actually being alone with sevika they are horrible at eye contact and are like supppperrr shy and embarrassed.

Especially like during their first time together (✂️✂️), THE GIRL CANT EVEN SPEAK.

I wonder if sevika would be patient- or if she would be the one to say she’s inlove first.

Idk but it’s up to you to answer this so ofc as alwayyyssss I hope you have annnn amazing day!

tumblr always manages to delete the cutest fucking suggestions thank u for sending this in again omg

men and minors dni

you're the life of the fucking party. no matter you go, you manage to make a friend. you've always got people laughing, you've always got a funny story to tell, and you can keep a conversation with a brink fucking wall. sevika thinks you're fucking amazing, the funniest person she's ever met.

she also thinks you hate her.

when you're alone with sevika, you're completely silent.

she thinks you've got something against her, and she's desperate to make it up to you somehow.

which leads to her being extraordinarily nice to you. which only leads to you being more awkward and standoffish around her.

you can't fucking help it. she's the most attractive woman you've ever met, you just can't help how tongue tied and shy you get around her.

it takes you guys a long fucking time to figure it out.

six months-- six months of sevika being incessantly nice to you, and you basically being silent to her-- and sevika finally gets fed up.

"look-- i don't know what i did to you-- but can you please just fucking tell me so i can figure out a way to make it up to you?" she asks one night at the bar. ran just left-- leaving you and sevika to sit in the typical awkward silence that follows the two of you around.

you blink at her. "what are you talking about?" you ask. she groans.

"oh for fuck's sake! you never fucking talk to me! i've seen you hold conversations with toddlers longer than you hold conversations with me! i don't get it! what did i do to you that makes you so fucking quiet around me?" she asks. you blink again, embarrassment creeping up your spine.

"y-you haven't done anything--"

"--oh bullshit--"

"--except be very attractive." you finish. sevika freezes, your sentence catching up to her. you bite your lip. "you're... incredibly hot. it... kinda makes my brain... mush." you finish.

sevika blinks at you in shock for about five seconds, before a cocky smirk ticks up at the corner of her mouth. "is that so?" she asks, sitting back in her seat and eyeing you in an entirely new light. you gulp.

"shut up." you mutter. sevika chuckles.

"oh... this is fucking amazing." she says, grinning at you.

the first time you guys fuck, you keep trying to hide your face behind your hands. sevika fucking loves it, laughing down at you and smacking your hands away as she grinds her cunt against yours.

"show me that pretty fuckin' face, baby." she says. you whimper.

"s-sev." you whisper. she chuckles.

"fuck happened to you, huh? where'd all those words go? y' were talking up a storm earlier to silco-- makin' fun of me all night long-- what happened?" she asks.

you just whine. she laughs evilly, then ducks down to press her lips against yours.

she never stops teasing you about your uncharacteristic shyness around her. ever.

even when you're trying to tell her you love her.

"w-would you stop looking at me like that?" you ask. sevika smirks. she's got you on her lap, her hands on your waist. you had told her you wanted to tell her something important, and she had sat the two of you on the couch like this, as if her thumbs drawing circles on your hips wouldn't distract you at all.

"keep going... 'we've been dating for a few months now'...?" she prompts, starting where you had left of before she started smirking at you like that.

"w-we've been dating for a while and i-i wanted to tell you that..." you trail off again, your eyes locked on where her tongue is licking across the top row of her teeth as she grins.

"that?" she asks. you sigh shakily, and sevika chuckles.

"you're a fucking asshole." you mumble. she bursts into laughter and darts forward to kiss your lips.

"ouch, babe." she says. you roll your eyes at her. "you shoulda told me that before we spent so much time together-- woulda saved you a whole lotta trouble."

"fuck off." you grunt. she pinches you hip and you huff.

"c'mon, tell me." she says. "i'll stop." she promises, miming zipping her lips shut. you roll your eyes at her and look away.

"i love you." you mumble.

sevika's quiet for a moment, and you gulp. then, her finger is under your chin, guiding you to look back at her.

she's grinning, and your anxiety melts away.

"i love you too." she says.

your stomach does a somersault, and you lean forward to bury your face against her shoulder. "oh fuck." you mumble. she chuckles, her hand coming up to rub your back.

"you're so fucking cute it kills me a bit." she says. you huff against her.

"i hate what you do to me." you groan.

"oh yeah? because last night you seemed to like it quite a--"

"shut up sevika!" you cry. she just laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[ellebakers]

☆ Let me be your man (+18)

Chad meeks martin x reader

Summary : friends with benefits but with jealousy.

Warnings : language, mention of sex, mention of blood and death, angst but happy ending.

A year ago, your life was hell. Indeed, ghostface came back to terrorize the town, he assaulted your friend Tara, then he killed your boyfriend Wes, he stabbed you and watched you bleed to death on the cold garage floor of your best friend Amber. And in the end, the person who made you suffer was none other than your best friend.

After this traumatic events, everything happened very quickly. The hospital stay, the statement to the police. The journalists who were waiting for you in front of your house to speak to you, the funeral and finally the nightmares.

Every night you had the same nightmare. The garage, Ghostface, the knife, the pain, the blood, and it started all over again, like this guy was fucking Freddy Krueger.

The only thing that gave you any security was your friends, Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad.

Especially Chad. One night while you were sleeping at his house, you told him about your nightmares and he told you about his. It felt good to talk to someone who understood you.

It was after this discussion that you found yourself riding him while he held your hips and whispered sweet promises to you.

After having sex three times that night, you fell asleep with each other, and for the first time in months, you had no nightmares. And you assumed that he hadn't had any either since the next evening he was texting you to reiterate your antics.

What was supposed to be a one-night stand turned into a ritual.

And this ritual continued even after moving to New York.

The only small problem was that you were starting to fall in love, but he didn't seem to want it.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

"Come on Y/n, please come with me, we're going to have a lot of fun." Tara begs you

You took one last look at your last conversation with Chad, and your anger was rising so you groaned and threw your phone on the bed.

"OK why not."

Tara was jumping with joy, then she went to your closet and pulled out a very short red dress with a slit on the thigh and a neckline

"Here, put this on. We're going to a fraternity, there will be lots of hot guys."

At first you weren't sure, but it was better to go out with your friend than to stay here waiting for an answer from chad who would never come and hear Quinn having sex with a complete stranger.

So you got up and took the dress then left to put it on.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

No sooner had you arrived at the party than you were already regretting it, the living room was full of drunk people jostling each other, and the music was breaking your ears. You hated that. In your defense, the last party you went to, you ended up on the floor bleeding to death.

"Y/n ? I didn't think you would come." You turn and see Mindy, beer in hand and looking a bit embarrassed, like she's afraid you'll see something.

You frowned and opened your mouth to answer but Tara cut you off. "I convinced her." She said, looking proud of herself, "well, excuse me, but I'll get myself a drink." Then she left.

There was a bit of an awkward silence between you and Mindy, your friend couldn't even look you in the eye. You took the bottle from her hands and drank a sip, once swallowed you said to her "go ahead and spit it out." She growled but obeyed "Well, Anika didn't want me to tell you about it, but you are one of my closest friends and I love you very much so I have to tell you." She paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "Chad is here with another girl."

That's it, you had just been stabbed again, but it hurt even more. You took a sip of the beer and shrugged. "We're just friends, he does what he wants."

Mindy rolled her eyes "Y/n please don't bullshit me. Maybe it works with others, but with me. I know there's something between you, not only do I I've already heard you fucking but in addition, the way you look at each other, it's eye-popping."

"Yeah well it looks like your brother doesn't see it that way."

She chuckled, "My brother is a jerk."

You smiled sadly at her "I'll get another beer."

She nodded and watched you go to the kitchen.

Like the living room, the kitchen was full of drunk people, some were throwing up, some were kissing and some were sleeping on the tables, you managed to sneak up to the fridge, that's when you heard it, a bitch voice, "Chad, you're so funny." You turned your gaze in the direction of the voice, and there he was, sitting with a blonde on his lap.

You wanted to go there and yell at him, but there's no point in making a scene. You had argued in the morning about what you were, because you were tired of getting the wrong ideas. He didn't want to admit you were a couple but he couldn't stand it when you talked to other guys. But seeing this blonde, her arms wrapped around his neck, it was very clear that he only saw you as a hookup.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and turned to get out of here as quickly as possible, but as you left you bumped into a boy who dropped his bottle of beer on the floor, the sound of the glass breaking caught everyone's attention, including Chad.

"Damn, I'm really sorry." You tell him as you bend down to pick up the pieces of glass.

The boy chuckled lightly, "Never mind, that beer wasn't good anyway."

His comment made you laugh slightly, you raised your head to look at him and you recognized your classmate in film history. Jack.

"Oh it's you! It reassures me, I know you won't sue me." He shook his head with a smile and leaned over to help you pick it up.

"Be careful, don't plant a glass in your hands. It would be a shame, you couldn't write the lessons afterwards."

You replied with a sarcastic laugh "Very funny."

Once the pieces were carefully picked up and the floor cleaned with a sponge, you leaned on the counter with Jack and you started talking.

"So," he began, "I heard that Mr. Cameron and Mrs. Winston were caught red-handed playing Fifty Shades in the bookstore."

You gasped "No fucking way, you’re kidding ?!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, laughing "Nah I promise you, it even seems that he had tied Mrs. Winston with the chains and everything."

You closed your eyes and wrinkled your nose "I have the image in my head." He laughed and walked over to pour himself a drink. As you continued to chat, you felt eyes burn the back of your head, you didn't have to turn around to know who it was. It was Chad.

Jack had noticed it too, he leaned over and whispered in your ear "It seems your boyfriend is jealous."

You shook your head, "He's not my boyfriend."

He raised his eyebrows "You should tell him then."

You frowned slightly and whispered "The thing is that I love him, but obviously it's not reciprocal."

Jack faced you, he grabbed your face with his hands and said softly "I'll make him react if it's okay with you."

You nodded and Jack slowly brought his face to yours while looking Chad in the eye. Before his lips even touched your cheek, a chair noise was heard and someone stuck behind you.

Your classmate pushed over and winked at you, "Oh Y/n you saw, it's Chad."

You turned around and came face to face with a more than pissed off Chad, he was clenching his jaw while looking at Jack.

Then he turned his eyes to you "Can we talk?"

You frowned looking for the blonde "I don't know, I think your friend who was on your lap must be waiting for you and I wouldn't want her to wait for you then-"

Chad gave you a look that meant You're serious there..

He cleared his throat and took your hand. "It's important."

You looked annoyed and nodded, but before following him you turned to Jack and kissed him on the cheek "Thank you for everything." He smiled at you and nodded.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

The little kiss on Jack's cheek had Chad pissed off, you could tell by the way his face was closed, but if he was pissed off then so are you and ready to talk once and for all.

Chad didn't let go and he took you to the second floor to find a room to talk.

Once the room was found, he let you in first, then he followed you and locked the door, as soon as the lock had been closed he started "What the fuck was that?"

"What the fuck was what Chad ?"

He put his hands on his hips, clearly annoyed "You know very well what I'm talking about."

"Nah, I don't see what you want to talk about. Besides, I'm surprised you're talking since all the fucking day you haven't said a single word to me."

He groaned and ran his hands over his face. "That's another discussion. I want to talk about you and that guy."

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest "I don't see why you want to talk about it. You and I are not a couple, we only fuck so I don't have to answer to you. And this guy has a first name, his name is Jack and you know it very well."

He wanted to say something but he couldn't.

You laughed "You see that's why I'm fed up. As soon as I talk about a couple, you shut up. You avoid talking about it and you ignore me all the fucking day, It makes me sick and when I find you you're sitting with a bitch on your knees, and you dare to give me a fit because I'm talking with a classmate."

He looked away and didn't answer.

"Do you have anything to answer?"

He remained silent.

You groaned and the tears welled up "I understood that I'm just a hookup. A girl that you fuck when you feel like it and when you're not better off. I understood very well that you don't care about me, fuck i'm not sure if i count for you as friends but the fucking problem is that i love you you see, you're the only person i feel with, well, since Wes." Chad finally looks at you at the mention of his friend "I trust very few people, you know that. And the more you and I saw each other, the more I fell in love, but I'm tired of being in pain, tired of inflicting this on myself, I deserve better then Listen to me carefully, from tonight, you and me, our arrangement is over. That way you can fuck whoever you want and I can finally move on."

He burst out and started yelling at you crying "You want me to tell you how I feel, you really fucking want to know. I've been in love with you since our first day of high school but Wes hooked up with you. so I gave up. Then I met Liv and I loved her, I suffered losing her. And you come on after all that, we sleep together and for me it was like my first time, I I wasn't just fucking with you because I was in love with you And I blame myself because I feel like I'm betraying Liv and Wes, but I also know that if I let you go or if he something happens I won't get over it You're not just a hookup for me, you're what I think about, morning, noon, evening, you drive me crazy Y/n, I'm coming not to detach myself from you. And when you talk about a couple I freak out every time and that's why I avoid you, because I'm a coward."

You started crying hearing it and Chad started crying even more. You approached him and took his face between your hands "You are a lot of things Chad, including a jerk, but you are not a coward." He laughed softly and rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you so much if you only knew." He tells you "But I'm so afraid of losing you."

"Chad it's not by loving me that you're going to lose me. It's by playing dumb like you do that you're going to lose me."

He hugged you and kissed you "No no, don't leave, please stay with me." He continued to kiss you while backing you up to the bed where he gently laid you down without detaching himself from your lips "I love you Y/n"

"I love you too, I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise me ?"

"I promis you."

He smiled against your lips and placed a last kiss before lying down next to you.

He hugged you tight and you stayed like that until the end of the night.

[scoobydoodean]

Something fun for you to ponder. When Sam was soulless, Bobby thought there was a chance that, "This is just Sam." I think it's because Sam tends to perform empathy somewhat selectively, at times more cognitively than emotionally. Do I personally think it's a neurodivergent trait? Yes, I do. BUT. It's hilarious to me that Bobby looked at soulless Sam and thought, "Hmm. There's a good chance that's just Sam." No?

Ho ho! Very interesting.

From 6.06 "You Can't Handle the Truth":

DEAN I don't know how much longer I can do this, Bobby. You got to figure out what the hell he is and fast. BOBBY I'm trying. But, Dean, there's a worst-case scenario. DEAN What, Satan's my co-pilot? Yeah, I know. BOBBY Well, that'd be the other worst case. DEAN Well, then what? BOBBY Maybe it's just Sam

Notably: This happens before anyone knows Sam is soulless and before Sam has admitted that he doesn't feel anything, but after Sam has let Dean get attacked and turned by a vampire.

I don't think that Bobby disagrees with Dean that Sam is acting different from before (I think that's why he calls it a worst case scenario). Sam has been putting everybody on edge, not just Dean (Samuel says that Sam scares him in 6.07). I think what Bobby is considering is that Sam simply isn't the same person after The Cage—that Sam compartmentalized his emotions to deal with the trauma—turned himself into a stone cold killing machine as a coping tool—and now Sam doesn't know how to warm back up to feeling anymore or caring about anyone or anything (or maybe can't because it's still too raw). Bobby's considering the idea that Sam may have simply cracked open and spilled his emotions out on the floor somewhere and left them behind... which ironically, is pretty much what happened?

Bobby is aware of similar (though less extreme) behavior from Sam in the past in coping with trauma. In fact, he arguably knows this side of Sam better than Dean does. Sam ghosted Bobby while Dean was in hell (and for months in 3.11 "Mystery Spot", though Bobby doesn't remember that). It wasn't that Sam stopped feeling (he was full of anguish and rage), but he did push Bobby away and focus obsessively on revenge, hunting like a machine. Sam pushed away the potential to talk through Dean's death with someone else who loved Dean and understood a lot of the grief Sam was feeling because it opened him up to a dangerous amount of vulnerability.

This is very John-coded behavior from Sam and it doesn't represent a lack of emotion as much as it represents "I feel so much that I cannot stand the idea of touching that emotion or I will break". It's a refusal to engage with and feel certain emotions, because if he did, he wouldn't be able to get up. Anger is fuel that burns hot and keeps you moving, but grief and fear can rip the life from you.

Consider even John's way of dealing with the worry he perpetually felt about Sam. Yelling and telling Sam never to come back when Sam wanted to go to school, making the fight all about betrayal and responsibility when deep down the entire time, John was just scared that Sam would get hurt (1.08, 1.20). Griping at Sam as a kid for wanting to play soccer (1.08), but without Sam's knowledge, quietly placing Sam's soccer trophy in a storage unit because John couldn't bear to throw it away even though there was no room for it on the road (3.03). John buried certain representations of affection and love because they were fraught with so much terror. Being open about how much he cared exposed him to feeling so much fear he couldn't cope with it, and John feels emotions incredibly deeply like Dean does. When the crying starts he cannot stop. It isn't macho bullshit—it isn't "I'm a man so this is unacceptable"—it's "If I feel this emotion right now at this exact moment then I will shatter into a million pieces".

Sam does the same thing when Dean is dead. Bobby represents vulnerability, family, and love—talking about how much Dean meant to both of them. The rage is easier. Being a hunting machine in 3.11 is easier. Focusing on murdering demon and training to kill Lilith is easier.

When the people Dean loves are in pain, Dean talks to them—he tells them how much he cares about them. He lets himself be vulnerable with it. Sam wants something to do and he needs to take charge. We see this is in 5.07 after Bobby reveals that he's having suicidal thoughts. Dean is distraught, and Sam is too (we see how much Bobby's opinion of him matters to Sam in 5.01)—but Sam just tells Bobby he isn't going to let him sacrifice himself, then jumps into action and focuses on the mission, while Dean lingers at Bobby's side. Then at the end of the episode, Dean sits down with Bobby alone and tells him how much he loves him and needs him. I don't think Sam could have that conversation at that point in his life. I genuinely don't think he could—and not because he doesn't love Bobby, but because he can't touch the distress that would surface from a discussion like that. One could argue Sam really does the same thing in 3.10, stepping outside of Bobby's house and seeking out Jeremy inside Bobby's dream while Dean goes up the stairs and finds Bobby and again—opens himself up to vulnerable emotions and expresses how much Bobby means to him—that he sees him as a father and he can't lose him. Sam focuses on finding the guy doing all of this and skirts the emotional vulnerability.

I think this is something Bobby, then, is very familiar with from Sam, so when he takes it to an extreme, where Sam is now dealing with a traumatic experience from being in The Cage, he can easily see how Sam would suppress his emotions and focus on hunting like a machine yet again, and how that could possibly reach such an extreme that Sam would stop feeling altogether and maybe not know how to or not be able to come back from that. And you know... I've never thought of this before in this exact way, but how did Sam's soul and body get separated in The Cage? Is there anything that disproves the idea that Sam himself ripped his soul from his body to cope with Lucifer's torture?

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

[autistic-danieljackson]

So here's what Stargate Atlantis: The Official Companion Season 3 has to say about Sunday:

"It's more complicated than anyone will ever know," says writer Martin Gero of why the decision was taken to kill off Carson Beckett. "It wasn't like, 'Hey, let's kill somebody!' It was for numerous, incredibly complex reasons, having to do with the show overall."

*cough* Ratings *cough*

For a long time, Gero had wanted to see the characters of Stargate: Atlantis in a situation very different from the perils they usually face. He wanted to see them during 'down time'; relaxing, enjoying each other's company and generally having a life not plagued by danger.

Martin Gero, the writer we deserve.

"For a couple of years Martin had wanted to do an episode about a day off," recalls executive producer Brad Wright, "a non-urgent mission. And I said 'Well, I love that as the backdrop...and then something incredibly dramatic happens!' Because I don't think the audience wants to watch anyone sleeping. A day off that is un-dramatic and does not have a huge event centered around it is not going to be that good."

Listen. I don't know about anyone else but I know this is mine and many fan-fic writers' dream. I want to see every bit of a characters life. I would've watched 15 episodes about the characters having lunch and playing board games and hanging out. There is literally nothing more I want to see than my favorite characters having a good time. Just say it's for the ratings, don't try and put this on the audience. Alright, enough of my interjection back to the book.

"I had been pitching this day off episode forever," says Gero. "Brad said, 'This is a dangerous place. There are no days off in Atlantis.'"

Again, bullshit but I'll hold my tongue.

Then there's a bit about how they decided to write things and film things and the different processes they went through. Then more from Martin Gero at the end:

"Usually when we show the director's cut of shows up here [in the production office], it goes through the gauntlet of people making fun of it. That's harsh, but it's an important part of the process because you need to know what doesn't work. And the more vocal your audience, the better, so that when the producers go down to do the final cut, we can try to make the episode better. That started, and then for the last three acts there was really complete silence. When the lights came up, I turned around and Brad was crying. Everyone was just very somber. It was awful that we had to do it, but Brad thinks it's the best episode of Atlantis, period."

No one made you do this!! In fact, we all would've liked very much if you hadn't done it!

After the breakdown of each episode, there's a little report on each main cast character and a blurb about the recurring cast as well as sections about the making of the show. Here's some from Carson's report:

McGillion reveals that whatever shock the audience felt when they learned of Beckett's demise, it was nothing to his own. "It was absolutely not my decision to leave the show," he says plainly, remembering how he heard the news. "We shot 'Phantoms' on location. We came back for one day to finish the episode on the stage, and one of the ADs asked me to go up to the office because [executive producer N.] John Smith wanted to talk to me. I thought, okay, maybe they saw the dailies for 'Phantoms' and they're really happy with my work. Maybe they want to say, 'You did a good job,'" he recalls. "I did not see it coming at all. We went to Brad's office and it was myself, John, Brad, and Robert. I have to have respect for what they did - they called me to the office and told me in person that they wanted to shake things up with the show and unfortunately they had to kill a character off. It had to be somebody of significance so that the fans would have a reaction to it. And my number came up. I was shocked, to be honest with you, and I was disappointed because I love working on the show and I've had some great relationships with the cast and crew."

Wanted. to. Shake. Things. Up.

For McGillion, filming Beckett's final episode after three years of working with the same cast and crew was, understandably, not easy. "It was very difficult to shoot, especially that last scene with David."

Stop I'm crying again 😭

Then it's talking for a bit about how Paul had to come back to film a bit after 'Sunday' and that the last things he filmed were for 'The Ark.'

"I forget exactly what the scene was. I was kind of blurred that day because I knew it was my last day and no one else did," the actor recalls. "I didn't want anyone else to know because I'm somewhat like Beckett, I wear my heart on my sleeve and I didn't want to get emotional. Martin [Wood] shot 'The Ark', and [he and] Alex Pappas, who is the greatest AD that we have, were going to make a little announcement: 'This is a wrap on Paul for the show.' I asked Alex not to do that, because I just couldn't deal with that at that point in time. I didn't even tell the cast. We shoot so much out of sequence that no one knows when it's someone's last day. So I left and I saw Rachel [Luttrell] and told her. David had left [so] I called him to let him know. The next night all the cast went out for dinner, so that was nice. It's tough, but I'd rather just go out quietly."

Real life Carson Beckett, I love him so much 🥺

But that's about what it says on the episode. I know people have been saying this forever but I like to get it from the source as well. I am even angrier now than I was before which I truly did not think was possible.

If you like behind the scenes stuff, I think this is a great book! I'm going to follow along when I do my Atlantis watch-through, there's a lot of great stuff in here. Would recommend if you can get your hands on it, even if it does make you extremely angry at times. 😂

[novantinuum]

Which one is knowing, loving, being? Is that one about the blorbo Steven?

Yessss ahahah, this is the one with the Gem Steven design I won't shut up about on discord XD

(thank you for taking my bait and asking me about this fiUSHKFNSUGJH my evil plan worked)

E eeeeee *cracks knuckles* time to RAMBLE! I am so excited about this one, lmaooo. If you're wondering where all my "Crack the Paragon update progress" energy went these past few months, I am so sorry besties- but it got funneled to this project instead. I need to finish this goddamn fic by the end of the year like I need air.

The tl;dr of it all is that this story is my adult human!Steven/gem!Steven/Connie propaganda piece, and also a place to explore my personal take on how Steven works like,,, biologically,,, as a bizarre hybrid of two beings who are fused but also Not Really. Certainly not in the way fusion works for OTHER people.

Mind you, this fic is very NSFW, as will be the snippit I share- so the rest of my rambles will go under a cut. You have been warned.

Okay, so the broad strokes. This one's gonna be 4 chapters-

Chapter one will focus on a recently married 23 yr old Steven heading out to Rose's Room so he can work through some mental bullshit regarding the split he experienced as a kid. That trauma still lingers all these years later, and there's still so much he doesn't fully understand about... about what happened. About being outright cleaved in two. He ends up having the Room conjure a cloud version of his Gem half- the most unfamiliar and alien one of the two, to him- so he can try and talk out his confusions.

Chapter two features Steven nosediving into an obsession over an impulsive kiss he shared with that friggin' cloud version of his Gem half, and one thing kinda just leads to another, and well- said obsession ends with his component halves briefly split apart so they can fuckin' bang to work through whatever crunchy ass emotions they've got all stewed up in there. Progress wise, I am at this part of the fic right now, and I am having a lot of fun making this segment as "emotions and stimuli all mixed together" and intentionally confusing as I can. I am taking the depiction of "split POV" we had in Change Your Mind VERY seriously and literally, because I haven't seen too many writers dare to try.

Chapter three is mostly like, an interlude chapter- it's the aftermath of chapter two, where a confused and sheepish Steven opens up to his wife Connie about what he just experienced. In my head, my version of Steven is VERY demisexual, so he's like... just as "huh" as anyone else about what just took place. He and Connie talk shit out, and then Connie is basically like "baby. sweetheart. love of my life. why the HELL would you rip out your own gem like that, and MORE IMPORTANTLY, why would you ever do that when i'm not here to help you if things went wrong??" By the end of the convo though, Steven extends an open invitation for Connie to join in at some point and enjoy some intimacy as the three of them, both of his component halves and her.

Chapter four is entirely about that precise encounter, both the planning and the actual sex. The broad purpose I have in mind here is to showcase how such an encounter is something that's innately healing for them as a couple, in the way they get to re-contextualize this scenario in tones of love and trust and willful choice... as opposed to the horrid experience of being ripped apart by another's hand. I also just want them to get WEIRD about it, because like. Come on. Steven's half-alien. He (and the organic and Gem who combine to MAKE him) deserves to be weird about himself and the way he interacts with his own sexuality. And you just KNOW Connie would be into that. There is a lot of genital shapeshifting here, and they have a fucking great time.

I have overtly had the extremely general sketch of this idea floating around in my head since 2019, but never had the guts to actually tackle it until now. Now, though... I've actually gotten some practice with writing smut and feel confident in my ability to swing these scenes in the way I envision them, AND I finally have a circle of people who are down to talk about Steven being really goddamn weird about himself lmafo. Like, it's 2024, I'm allowed to ship selfcest if I want, fuck you.

But yes, chapter 1 is already done at 5.3K words, and I've got a solid 7.4K on chapter 2 (and rising.) For my actual WIP share, here is a snippit I recently wrote for chapter 4, working ahead a bit-

“So this is your idea of a big finale, huh?” he says with an impish smirk as he reads the last item on the list, a healthy dose of humor lightening his words. “Both of them fucking like rabid animals in heat as you merely lounge on the bed and watch?” “Oh, shut up,” she bites back, unable to even look her dear husband in the eye as she clunks her head down on the kitchen table, her cheeks burning like she’s destined to crumble to cinders amidst her own personal inferno of runaway lust. But Steven, damn that ridiculous man, won’t let her live this down. Ugh. Of course he wouldn’t. “Now, tell me… how long have you been secretly dreaming of this scenario?” She groans, mumbling her shameful little response straight into the table mat. “Only like… every other night since I saw you fall apart…” His rumbly chuckle— brimming with unquestioned warmth and just a tinge of bashfulness at the sheer risqué inanity of this never-before-spoken revelation— rings loud and clear, coating the whole room in its dense, chocolatey tenor. “What?” Connie whines as she snaps upright, her hands fidgeting on the table in the throes of such excruciating embarrassment. “What exactly’s so funny about that? I’m being very brave and vulnerable about this, you know!” He raises a placating hand, pushing himself through the final notes of his laughter before moving to respond. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not making fun, it’s just— I guess you never really struck me as the, uh… the voyeuristic type?” “Does that… bother you?” she frowns, tilting her head a little. “The idea of me just… watching? I— it’s only a suggestion, we can always take it off, if you—” “No, I’m okay with it. Depending on how we set things up, I think it could be pretty hot. In fact…” Steven grabs for a pencil, and— waggling his eyebrows at her— begins to write one last line on their collective beat sheet. “I actually have a little idea of my own that I think would be fun to try out during this…”