#none of this flashback to getting OUT??? bullshit???

[yelenasbraid]

none of the bullshit — joe burrow

summary — you’re an athletic trainer with the bengals. joe’s taken a liking to you.

warnings — fem!reader, fluff, some good ol’ banter, implied smut, language, i sort of know what i’m talking about pls don’t come for me

tags — @wickedfun9 @softburrow @starsinthesky5 @joeburrowshaircurl @joeyfranchise @willowsnook @ebsmind @iosivb9 @blairsworld22 @kazsbrckkers

IT WAS COLD. Earlier, you were begging for the colder weather. The summer heat was no joke, but now, the colder winters were biting. You stood out on the practice field, layered up as best you could, keeping your eye on the players.

You were an athletic trainer for the Bengals, a damn good one you’d add. You had to put up with a lot of bullshit over the past couple of years, especially with a certain quarterback.

flashback to the summer

“This is the third time I’ve done this, Y/N. How is this helping me get anywhere?” Joe was frustrated. You’ve asked him to throw the ball the exact same way, three different times. It was his first time throwing after his injury and you were being cautious.

“You want to get out there and snap your wrist again?” You shot back, the summer heat beating down on the both of you. You didn’t have time for his complaints or his nonsense.

“No, but throwing ten yards isn’t going to do much,”

“You think I’m stupid? I know that. It’s called we’ll get there,” you chirped. His attitude was warranted, only sometimes. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but he thought it was closer than it really was. He also hated that you were right. Your wit has kept him sane, if he were to be honest with himself. It’s pushed him to be better, to do better.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he shook his head, going to throw the ball again.

End of flashback

You’ve watched Joe excel, watched as his wrist strengthened as he climbed the charts to be one of the best quarterbacks in the league. It was a thrill to see, even from the perspective of a witty athletic trainer.

“Cold?” you turned your head to watch a red-nosed Joe walk up to you.

“No, I’m actually sweating right now,” you sarcastically quipped, “yes I’m cold,”

“Sorry I asked,” Joe quipped, but a smirk painted his lips. He loved messing with you, mainly to see your pink cheeks and your smirk. As much as he messed with you, the feelings he had for you were very real. Having feelings for an athletic trainer wasn’t on his bingo card for the year, but here he was, never being able to pull himself from you. There was just something so magnetic about you.

“And you’re out here in shorts,” you scoffed, seeing the hoodie/jersey combo and the shorts he wore. He looked like he was taking a walk in the park when it was 50 degrees outside. It was below 30.

“It’s the high metabolism,” he came to stand next to you. He was much taller than you, and while he adored the height difference, he was well aware you could kick his ass.

“I think it’s the cockiness getting to you,” you muttered, earning a scoff from Joe.

“Wow,” he laughed, “I’ll make sure to put your name in for most supportive athletic trainer of the year,”

“Thanks, I deserve it,” you chuckled, looking up at him. He would agree with you; you did deserve it. Through his injury, the bullshit he put you through, you deserved some type of award. He wanted to be the one to give it to you, to see your face soften and your eyes widen.

“Yeah, you do,” he admitted, turning his face away from looking at you. There was a buzz between you, and you looked over at him. You watched as his breaths came out in puffs, how his cheeks, ears and nose were painted red. He wasn’t bad to look at, but you to remind yourself that you couldn’t indulge in those feelings. You’d lose your job.

You turned back to the field, feeling your heart slam against your chest. Now you were warm, your palms sweaty and your cheeks red. One of the coaches blew the whistle, signaling the end of the break and the beginning of the second half of practice.

—

Your cheeks were rosy, and you were warmer at the end of practice. You threw with Joe some more, gave him some strengthening techniques, and continued on with the banter that usually came from you both.

You grabbed your things, including a practice bag, and hoisted it on your shoulder. You looked back at Joe, who was standing with Ja’marr and Tee, a laugh spilling from his lips. He looked so cozy, so relaxed, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

You looked away, shaking your head. It wasn’t going to happen. You were an athletic trainer and he was a player, not just any player, the star player. You walked off of the field, a pep in your step as you started towards the facility.

“Boo,” you heard a voice in your ear, making you jump. You snapped your head over, and saw the towering quarterback next to you.

“Asshole,” you shoved him, your heart slamming in your chest from his scare and from him.

“Oh come on, you’re just a lil jumpy,” he teased. He liked seeing you all riled up, but he wasn’t stupid. He respected you enough to stop when you asked, or even when your body language betrayed you.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, walking next to him. He kept his pace with yours, even though it was slower due to the height difference.

As he walked next to you, he felt his stomach tie itself into knots. He usually didn’t get nervous; he was confident enough in his abilities to focus. But now? He faltered. You were beautiful, in every way, and the way you handled his antics just made his feelings ten times stronger for you.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” you hummed as you walked with him. The silence that was between you was tense, and it buzzed with unsaid feelings. What those feelings were, you couldn’t tell.

“Just thinking about all the ways to annoy you tomorrow,” he dramatically sighed, but it wasn’t completely true. He thought about you, the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, the way your face blushed under the cool weather. He found himself, at points, thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you, to have you as his.

“I knew it was preplanned,” you teased, giving him a smirk.

“Everything’s preplanned. I don’t do anything without thinking first.”

“That’s a lie,” you laughed, earning a scoff and a gentle shove from him.

“You’re supposed to support me, not break me down,” he pouted, and you mockingly pouted back.

“Aww, poor baby,” you huffed, and he only shook his head. You both neared the facility doors, and as warmth enveloped you both, so did Joe’s feelings intensify. He pursed his lips, flexing his hands as he tried to control the impulse to kiss you, to shove you against the wall and take you.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you turned to face him. It was just you two, standing in the hallway. Everyone else had gone ahead.

“Yeah?” you prompted, watching him. You picked out uncertainty in his eyes, the way his lips were tightly pressed together. Something was weighing heavy on him. But he looked at you, his eyes blank, his face pale. He forgot the words. His tongue was thick, like cotton in his mouth.

“Nothing, I’ll see you later,” he smiled, and brushed past you to the locker room. His heart hammered in his chest and his palms were sweaty. His mind was in a fog, consumed at the thought of you. He chickened out, and he’d beat himself up about it for the rest of the day.

You were left standing, confused and empty. You watched as he left, his form retreating down the hallway before he disappeared. Part of you hoped, based off of the look in his eyes, that he’d tell you that your feelings for him were reciprocated. Part of you hoped that he’d say something, but he didn’t.

You walked back to your office, a smaller room along a hallway. You unlocked your door, walking in to the warmer room. Your desk was in front of you, a window behind it, letting soft light into the room. Two guest chairs stood in front of your desk, and a small table held a coffee maker.

It was the bare minimum, but you were lucky you had an office.

You set the bag down, sitting down at your computer. You needed to write your reports, to check reports that have been submitted, but you couldn’t focus. Your mind drifted to Joe, to his eyes, to how he so easily talked to you, his arms, his thighs.

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes.

You opened up your emails, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts of Joe. He was your coworker, not someone to become romantically involved with. No matter how he made you feel, no matter how attractive he was.

You didn’t know how much you got done, but your eyes never left your laptop until you heard a knock on your door. Your eyes lifted from your laptop, watching as Joe opened your door. His hair was wet, his skin a warm tan. He was dressed comfortably; sweats and a sweatshirt.

“What’s up?” you asked, pursing your lips.

“I just wanted to stop by before I left,” he said, stepping into your office and softly shutting the door behind him. His heart slammed against his chest. He was only ever nervous around you, except when it came to practice. He was in his element, he knew what he was doing and that distracted him from you. Now, as he stood in your office, he didn’t have his football knowledge to back him up.

“Oh,” you smiled, “is there something bothering you?” you asked him, concern furrowing your brow. You couldn’t think that Joe would come and see you for any other reason than football, or his wrist. He wouldn’t come and see you because he wanted to.

“Yeah, can you check my wrist before I go?” he asked you. He didn’t need his wrist checked. He was totally fine. He’s been fine for weeks.

“Sure, yeah,” you stood up, meeting him in the center of your office, “but I thought you’ve been fine for weeks,” you hummed as you took his extended wrist.

“I was, but it felt really tight after my shower,” he swallowed. Your soft hands against his wrist, the way your fingers gently pressed to see where his supposed pain was, it sent shocks throughout his body.

“Ok,” you hummed, turning over his wrist. You didn’t see any swelling, you didn’t feel any heat, and he didn’t react to your pressure.

“I don’t feel anything,” you told him, meeting his eyes, “there isn’t obvious pain,” you added, but as your eyes met, tension buzzed between you. Your stomach twisted, your heart skipped a beat. You fought the urge to look at his lips.

“That’s good,” he sighed, nodding his head. He could feel the tension, the way you looked at him, the way his heart skipped beats. He inhaled deeply to try and control his breathing. His free hand, with a slight tremble, reached up and caressed your cheek. His light touch sent shivers down your spine, and as much as you should fight it, you didn’t. You stepped closer to him, keeping your eyes on him.

He softly placed his lips on yours, and for a moment you stiffened. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect him to kiss you, to do the very thing you’ve wanted to do for a while. He parted from you, feeling you stiffen.

“I’m sorry-” he was interrupted by your hands grabbing the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling his lips to yours with a hunger like no other. He immediately kissed you back, one of his hands cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You tasted sweet and it made his body thrum with his need for you. The need he’s been shoving aside for months.

Your lips danced together with a roughness and passion you’ve never experienced. Your hands looped around his neck, keeping yourself as close as you could be to him. His hunger for you could be felt as his hands moved to grip your hips. He began walking you back, keeping his lips on yours. When your hips hit your desk, you gasped, and it allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth. You moaned as his tongue explored your mouth tasting more of you.

He slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He panted, his breath fanning your face.

“Is the door locked?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know, why?”

“Because we’re gonna need it to be,” you hummed, the look in your eyes telling him all he needed to know. He’s never locked a door so fast in his life. He came back over, and smashed his lips back to yours with a newfound hunger. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, and in that moment, you were glad that door was locked. You were also glad you were an athletic trainer; you’d need to be able to do your own stretches later when he took your ability to walk.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part VII

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: toxic!p, language, sexual language, emotional rollercoaster lol

Wordcount: 4.2K

A/N: SURPRISE SHAWTYYY! didn't think i was gonna get this done today but i did so here is part 7! ily guys please share your thoughts, it keeps me motivated. ty for all your support :))

(paragraphs in italics are flashbacks)

-

“I love you Valerie.”

Everything stops. The world caves in. The only sound in my ears is ringing, my heart pounding in my head. My chest tightens and stomach twists, the taste of liquor nauseatingly sweet in my mouth. 

None of it registers at first, the blonde’s mouth moving but I don’t hear a word that comes out. Not until her hands land on my cheeks to hold my face, as she repeats the words.

“I love you okay?” 

I blink at her stupidly, finally taking in those three words the girl was telling me. For a second I think it’s a trick, some sort of joke she’s trying to play on me. To make me look like a damn fool like she had many times before. But then Paige’s blue eyes turn red and glossy, a single tear falling down her cheek. The blonde seemed nearly as shocked by this revelation as I was.

“Val, please say something.”

Her voice is weak, pleading, thumbs smoothing over the skin of my cheeks as she watches me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. My head feels like a mess, my brain turning more into mush the more I try to understand the girl in front of me. 

Memories of me curled up on my bed, sobbing for a week straight after we first called it quits flash through my head, the way my roommates were bringing me food begging me to eat. The excruciating ache in my chest now only a memory felt realer than anything. If I had to go through that again, it might just kill me. Even if somewhere deep down I could feel it eating me alive - the need to say those three words back.

“No, Paige,” I sigh, pushing her hands off me, our gazes meeting. “Paige you don’t love me, you don’t know anything about love!”

“That’s bullshit,” she says back defiantly, her tear filled eyes stuck on mine. “If you don’ feel the same then just say it, don’ come up with some bullshit reason.”

It hurts me, the crack in her voice when she says it. But the fear is much greater than the way it hurts to do this.

“I’m serious Paige, you’re being stupid!” 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’ feel it too Val.”

“That’s not the point-”

“Look me in the eye and tell me-”

“I don’t feel that!” Slips from my mouth, the words so convincing I almost believe them myself.

Paige looks devastated, tears streaming down her cheeks. She brings a hand over her face, hiding from me. For a while we stand there, her sniffling the only sound between us.

She wipes her face, not meeting my gaze as she waves a hand at me dismissively, turning around heading back into the bar.

“Man fuck this shit.”

-

December 2024

“Oh my God, what are you doing Paige?!”

Valerie’s lying in bed, her golden brown hair sprawled out on my pillow, naked body wrapped in the purple sheets as I’m struggling to zip up the mini skirt she had arrived in, much too short for the Christmas party we’d gone to. Though it only took an hour till I was dragging the girl back to mine, the way she’d looked in her outfit drove me up a wall.

“Tryna make a point.”

I look insane, the black mini skirt much too small on my tall frame, Valerie’s sparkly top covering my upper body, looking nothing short of ridiculous on me. The brunette was much shorter and let’s just say the style of the clothes wasn’t exactly… something I usually wore.

“Now where the boots at?” I say panting, finally giving up on the struggle with the zipper of the skirt.

“NO! Don’t touch them, you’re gonna break them!” Valerie yells scooching up on the bed, her face red from how hard she’d been laughing at my absurd behaviour.

“Are you sayin’ I got big feet?” I ask in mock offense, taking my hair down from a bun, messy from the way the brunette in my bed had been pulling on it while I ate her out for the past hour. I would’ve gone for longer but the whines out of that one got so loud Jana and Allie might’ve killed me if I didn’t stop.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she laughs that bright, clear laugh of hers. The one I swear I could never get sick of. “Now take my clothes off! You look ridiculous!”

“Hollup, my point!” I blurt out and stand still in front of her. “These clothes show waaay too much for me to keep my hands to myself.”

Valerie frowns, trying to hide the smirk growing on her face. “Well I don’t really want you right now, I’ll be honest.”

I scoff loud, picking up a pillow from the ground and throwing it at the brunette. She dodges it while giggling.

“I’m just sayinnn’” I roll my eyes and turn around, half of my ass in my boxers peeking out of the tiny skirt. Valerie bursts into a laugh. “Can’t be acting all innocent when you wear a skirt this short. You knew whatchu were doin’.”

“OKAY fine! I wore it so you’d fuck me! Happy?” Valerie giggles, the infectious sound forcing my mouth to twist into a grin. 

“Happy,” I hum and lean over to kiss her, she dodges me though leaving me pouting.

“Take the clothes off first,” the girl commands.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

I quickly undress, throwing the clothes all over my room until I’m only in my white boxers, climbing on top of Valerie and tickling her sides, eliciting loud screams from her.

“Jana and Allie are gon’ throw you out if you don’t learn to shut up,” I joke, letting her push my hands away.

“Then stop tickling me you freak!” She yelps, her sheet covered chest heaving.

“I got some other ways to make you scream ma,” I say, wiggling my brows, pulling the purple sheet off her, my eyes hungry to see more again. The brunette is completely naked, apart from the silky purple panties decorating my favourite part of her. 

“Paigeee!” Valerie whines, but the smile on her face tells me she’s enjoying this. Looking her up and down I shake my head and whistle.

“Goddamn Val, lemme go again,” I groan, my mouth already watering to taste her. 

“Paige I got an early class, I gotta head back,” the brunette under me complains, pushing my head away as I try to kiss her neck.

“No.”

With all my body weight I lie down on top of her, not allowing her to move an inch.

“PAIGEE!”

“Don’t want you to go yet,” I murmur and bury my nose in her hair, letting the scent of coconut comfort me with every inhale. I was itching to ask her to stay over, my lips nearly forming the words. But it was a rule I couldn’t break. I’d already broken far too many just for Valerie.

Truthfully I knew I was obsessed, completely fucked with how I felt about this girl. But I did all I could to push that feeling away. It wasn’t the right time for any of this - maybe if I was someone else I could live my life just to please her, to make her laugh like she had all evening - and God what a happy life that would be. But in this life it wasn’t the task I’d been given. I had bigger worries, a national championship to win. Valerie would be a complete distraction. So I stay silent, trying to make the moment of pretending I’m someone else last a little longer.

Valerie’s blunt nails scratch up and down the skin of my back, my face buried into the crook of her neck.

“When are you leaving for Christmas?” My voice comes out needy but I let it.

“Friday,” Val murmurs, her hand brushing through my hair, forcing my muscles to relax in her arms.

In a moment of utter tranquility I admit.

“I’ll miss you.”

There’s a moment of silence before Valerie’s soft voice mumbles into my ear.

“I’ll miss you too.”

My chest swells with affection, the words forcing a smile to grow on my face. Gently I place kisses on the brunette’s collarbone and shoulder.

“You miss your other girls too?” Valerie’s voice trembles, breaking my heart. I pull back to look at her face, those perfect big brown eyes I couldn’t get enough of.

“No, fuck ‘em, I don even think about ‘em,” I answer truthfully. “I don even fuck with ‘em no more.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that last bit, but it was true - partly. I had barely used my roster in the last two months, my mind completely too wrapped in the brunette underneath me. Only in an emergency did I call any girl up. Shit, I’d even been toying with the idea of just deleting their numbers. Deep down it worried me though, what it might mean for me and Valerie. Maybe it was time. It’s not like I was gonna date her, but no one else got me going anymore. What was the point in fucking them? 

“You’re lying,” Valerie says, a hint of hurt in her voice. She could always see right through me.

“Nah, I’m serious. Ion wanna fuck anyone else, do you wanna fuck someone else?”

She bats her eyes at me before slowly shaking her head.

“Then how about we don’t fuck anyone else?”

With a slight smile she nods. 

-

“Okay okay okay Paige no more, I actually have to go now.”

It was two hours later, the blonde had insisted on one more round that had quickly turned into two. Lying on top of her, I finally climb out of bed, my body feeling worn out. I didn’t mind though, I felt ecstatic - almost embarrassingly so. I knew it wasn’t dating, but it was something more. A beginning of something new for me and Paige. From now on it would be just the two of us, no one else. Deep down I wished it meant something greater, that she was in fact falling for me. But perhaps I was just naive in thinking so. That the way she kissed me sometimes felt like this is more to her than sex.

As much as it hurts my ego to admit, I was into her. Badly so. Maybe even falling for her. Paige had grown on me, she was the first person I thought of when I woke up, and the last before I fell asleep,

“You’re no fun Val,” the blonde whines and I playfully shove her, starting to pull my clothes back on.

“Take that back!”

“Fine, fine…” Paige murmurs and gets up too, grabbing my hand and kissing it. I nearly whimper. “You can be fun.”

Rolling my eyes I pull my hand away and slide on the cropped hoodie and sweats I had brought with me. Paige smacks my butt hard as I’m bent over, looking for socks in my bag, making me yelp.

“Did you take my socks?” I ask accusingly as Paige is throwing on a white tee. 

“No,” she scoffs. “I ain’t into all that.”

Again, rolling my eyes I scoff. My gaze roams the floor trying to see where my socks could be.

“I’mma go get some water baby,” Paige murmurs, pressing a kiss into my temple before she leaves, my heart immediately aching. Just being a room away was far enough to make my body yearn for her.

Frustrated, I huff and get on my knees. Where were these damn socks? Getting onto the carpeted floor of the blonde’s dorm I look under her bed, my sharp eyes roaming all the forgotten junk left there - hair ties, Paige’s own spare socks, and… a bright pink bra.

The moment I saw it I knew it wasn’t mine. I never wore pink and the bra was much too large for me. It was some other girl’s, someone from Paige’s roster owned that bra. Just a week ago I had dug my hair clip out from under the bed and the bra hadn’t been there. Somehow within the week it had appeared, now forgotten.

I immediately feel nauseous, my heart pounding out of my chest. The tears spill from my eyes involuntarily as I get up from the floor, my hands shaking as I try to hold my breath. Like somehow not breathing would make it better, would delay the realisation about to hit me.

She lied. She hadn’t meant any of it. She’s not with anyone else anymore? Bullshit.

Doing everything I can to hold back my tears I quickly gather my things, socks or no socks I had to get out. I rush out into the hallway, quickly putting my shoes on as Paige returns, holding two glasses of water. For me and her.

“Damn I didn’t know you were in such a hur-”

She goes quiet when she sees my bloodshot eyes, my quivering lower lip.

“Valerie, whoa what’s wrong?” She coos, brows furrowing in concern as she sets the glasses down and tries to grab hold of me.

“Don’t touch me!” I tell her, my voice shrill and shaky.

Paige looks at me shocked, clearly unaware where the sudden change was stemming from.

“Yo, Val…”

“See I knew you were a dick but you’re an even bigger liar than I realised. Fuck you Paige and I mean that,” I cry out, defiantly meeting her gaze. I wanted to hurt her the way I felt hurt, the way my heart felt like it had been stabbed repeatedly.

“Baby what’s going on?”

“Do not call me that! Ever again! Matter of fact I never wanna talk to you again, or see you again. Go fuck those other girls on your roster I don’t give a shit!”

With that and before the blonde can respond, I rush out, barely feeling the icy breeze of December, my feelings much too intense to feel anything at all. I felt dizzy, my brain struggling to keep up. I don’t start sobbing until I close the door to my dorm behind me, sliding down against it and crashing onto the floor. 

-

“Hey.”

“Hey, come in.”

Jay looks tired when she opens her door to let me in with a box full of her stuff (surprisingly a lot) she’d left at mine in the past month. It was the first time I’d seen her since her birthday, a couple weeks of me trying to reach her for nothing. She’d finally called me back yesterday and agreed to talk.

“Let me get that Riri,” the blonde murmurs, grabbing the box from my hands. I couldn’t push away the veil of guilt hovering over me. I could feel it in my chest, tightening and making me nauseous.

“Could we talk?” I ask carefully and to my surprise Jay nods. We slip into her dorm room, as I take off my jacket. March had been pleasant and bright, a surprising warmth making way for spring.

I take a deep breath closing the door behind us. I was ready to beg, to get on my knees and crawl for her to forgive me and take me back. These two weeks had given me time to really think, to reflect. Without distractions, without Paige. 

God had I gotten myself into a mess. All because of Paige fucking Bueckers. None of it was sensible really, not at all. Matter of fact the only thing that made sense about this whole situation was me and Jay. And I know with time I’d fall in love with her. At least I felt safe with her. So I was ready to do anything for her to take me back.

Just as I’m about to begin my well practiced speech Jay interrupts me.

“Before you start, I talked to Paige.”

My heart drops, hearing her name already enough to make my mind spin. I stand quietly for a while, just staring at the blue eyed girl.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Justine hums, looking at the ground, patting the bed next to where she’s sitting. I carefully sit down, leaving some space between us. My mind is racing but my mouth can’t form any words, so for a brief moment I just stare at the hands in my lap.

“Wh- what’d she say?” I ask, my voice a little shaky.

Jay sighs and shrugs. “She wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Good. But surprising. I figured she would’ve said anything to get me to herself, tell her all about what we’d been up to before we got caught. She’s just that selfish, saying whatever for her own selfish reasons. Even telling me she loved me.

“Look, Jay. I fucked up, I really did. But I wanna make it right with us, please let me. I don’t wanna lose you,” I plead my case, taking Jay’s hands and meeting her gaze. She looks at me softly, a sad smile on her face when she pulls her hands back.

“Valerie…” She sighs. “I’m not mad. I was, for a few days but not anymore. Not since I understood.”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Understood what?”

She takes a deep breath, holding my gaze. “She loves you.”

I scoff, burying my face into my hands. God, Paige was the most manipulative person I knew, even convincing Jay about her feelings for me. I can’t believe she had said that to Jay. How incredibly selfish of her.

“Look, even if she said that she doesn’t actually mean that. Paige says stupid shit all the time, so if she said tha-”

“She didn’t.” The blonde interrupts. I’m once again confused.

“She didn’t have to, I could tell,” Jay explains. I rub my eyes before returning my hands to my lap. “She came over here the day after… everything. Told me that she’d been sleeping with you. That she had convinced you to, and I shouldn’t be mad at you. That it was all her fault, and that she feels like shit about it.”

There’s an uncomfortable knot in my stomach as I listen to the girl next to me, imagining Paige by her door, taking the blame for everything we’d done together. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Then she said I should forgive you and take you back. That I seem like a good person and I deserve you. That you deserve someone like me, someone that makes you happy and makes you feel safe.”

I swallow loud, my mind trying to wrap around the words coming out of Jay’s mouth.

“She said you’re the most beautiful and most special girl she’s ever met, and that I’m lucky to have you. That I shouldn’t fuck it up like she did, that I should protect you and take good care of you so you can be happy. She kept saying that. How she just wants you to be happy Riri,” Jay sighs looking out of the window. I look too, watching the two birds flying around a branch, chasing each other.

“She looked like she’d been crying. Her eyes were all red and stuff.”

I felt an ache in my chest, a weight on me like I couldn’t breathe. The prospect of Paige saying all that, the most selfish person I knew willing to let me go just for me to be happy, felt unbelievable. Maybe I got some of it wrong, maybe she wasn’t selfish at all. Maybe she really cared for me, or perhaps, maybe she really loved me.

The thought makes my heart swell, my brown eyes welling up. For a moment I dare to dream that Jay was right, that Paige meant every word she said. That she loved me. Paige loved me.

Suddenly I’m crying, tears spilling down my cheeks as I bury my face into my hands once more. The blonde next to me rubs my back comfortingly.

“See, I always wondered why no matter what I did, how much I worked, you just didn’t like me like I liked you. It drove me up the walls wondering,” Jay murmurs while I sniffle into my hands. “Valerie, you love her too.”

And I nod. She’s right. Now that I had the courage to believe Paige really loved me it was impossible not to admit it. I loved her too.

-

“All I care about is money and the city that I'm from I'ma sip until I feel it, I'ma smoke it till it's done And I don't really give a fuck, and my excuse is that I'm young,” KK raps, shaking me harshly, somehow still hyped from yesterday’s win. Bless her but I wouldn’t mind if she was a little less hyped about it.

“C’mon P boogers, sing with meeee!” The girl complains as the song continues playing in the background. With a groan, I push her hands off my black Nike tech, sliding my sleep mask back over my eyes.

“And I'm only getting older sosomebody shoulda told ya I'm on one, yeah, Fuck it, I'm on one!” KK’s practically jumping now. Thankfully Caroline sitting behind us pushes the girl back down onto her seat. 

“Put your seatbelt on!” She commands and I sigh in relief.

“Thank you Lord,” I mumble, leaning my head against the seat. I knew the girl next to me only had good intentions - I hadn’t really been myself since Valerie had turned me down. In fact I’d barely slept, waking up in tears on a few occasions, not able to escape her even in my dreams. 

I tried to bury myself in the game which was the only thing that seemed to work. So for the past 2 weeks all I had done was train - it was fine by me. Because the national championship was only a few games away, barely out of my reach. I had faith in us that it was ours. That Valerie turning me down was God’s plan of reminding me what really was important - the game. Being great.

Still, I hadn’t felt like laughing much. No matter the effort from the girls. I just didn’t feel like it. I didn’t feel anything. The win barely felt like anything either.

“Paige you prolly shouldn’t sleep, we’re almost home,” Ice chuckles and I lift my eye mask, grinning a little. 

“Oh I only put this on so Ion have to see KK’s stupid face,” I joke, making the girl next to me scoff loudly.

“YOO, I wanna sit next to someone else,” she groans, standing up in her seat once more. “COAACH can I sit next to you!” She yells to the front of the bus, making everyone groan. We loved her though, I swear.

“Absolutely not.” Geno says sternly, just when the bus pulls up to Storrs, stopping abruptly. Everyone starts stirring around me, but I just sit there, watching the girls pack their stuff. I let everyone off the bus before me - usually I was one of the first ones trying to get out, too restless to sit still and wait. But I don't care right now. I take my time gathering the things spread all over my seat, carefully packing my backpack and taking my time zipping it up. Trying to prolong the moment I had to step into my dorm room as much as I could.

Everything in there reminds me of her. The pillows still had a faint scent of coconut, the white t-shirt I’d borrowed her that first night we met staring back at me in my closet. After checking twice that no one left anything on the bus, I finally make my way out, rubbing my eyes and stepping out into the March evening. 

When my eyes flicker open I see her, like a cruel mirage of some sort making my knees nearly buckle. Valerie’s standing by the parking lot, staring at me. I can tell from the flush in her cheeks and the way she’s wrapping the jacket around her that she’s been waiting for a while.

My chest tightens when our eyes meet, part of me wants to run, the other to cry. But I stand there, watching her. She looks as beautiful as ever, and I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief getting to see her wide eyes once more. Fuck I missed her.

“Valerie?” I ask, my heart racing so hard I feel lightheaded. I walk to her out of instinct, holding my backpack over my shoulder. Valerie looks at me, gathering courage as she opens her mouth.

“I love you too.”

Before I can process, she’s kissing me, hands wrapped around my shoulders and I instinctually lift her legs off the ground by her waist, my lips pressing into hers desperately. It feels like I’ve been drowning and I’m finally coming up for air, relief washing over me. I don’t understand, and I don’t need to. At this moment all I know is I love her, and Valerie loves me too.

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch@mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @justliketoreadsowhat@oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her @julieloveswbb@vsz333 @faeries-posts @vamptizm @ellapurnellmybeloved @ivorygoal @onlyhereforpazzi @thelightknight21@paigeluvvr@absolutelydreadful@imamartini@lupinqs@authentic-girl03@isurpussygreen@xxloveralways14 @ivorygoal @wcbbfics @numberonepartyanth3m @mtslab @paigesbabygirl @jadasogay @bueckersp @joemamasbib @mrpotscrapa535 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver

[katyawriteswhump]

fallen angel (steddie holiday drabble/bingo)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 15 prompt, “ornament;” @steddiebingo prompt, “candle;” @whumpcember day 15 prompt, ‘broken glass.”

WC: 988 Rating: T; CW: none. Tags: fluff, angst, established steddie, flashbacks to less happy childhoods, happy ending.  Summary: Steve and Eddie discover a sad moment in their pasts that intertwined and turned surprisingly magical in the present…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“We agreed we weren’t doing the c-word, Eddie.”

Steve had gotten in from a late shift at Family Video. Robin had made him eat forfeit candy every time somebody complained Die Hard wasn’t in stock. He felt kinda icky and grouchier than ever over seasonal bullshit.

“We’re not, Babe.” Eddie rummaged in a box, retrieving something that suspiciously resembled a tinselly garland—though chewed by generations of hungry mice.

Steve nearly bitched, Unless you’re gonna tie me up with that sparkly shit, please remove it before I stuff it down your throat.  Then he realized. It was THE box, which contained all Eddie had from his childhood. He kneeled at Eddie’s side, hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Mom used to wear the garland to dance at midwinter. She was a total flowerchild.” Eddie placed it back carefully. “Stevie, can I show you something? If you hate it, you never have to see it again.”

“Okay.”

Steve slid his arms around Eddie. He’d put up with most shit, if snuggles accompanied it. Eddie definitely gave off ‘need-more-snuggles’ vibes. Steve lifted Eddie’s hair, nibbling kisses beneath, while Eddie raised a crude clay ornament from the box’s depths.

An angel.

A childish painted angel, with a niche for a candle, that’d been broken and painstakingly glued back together.

Steve’s angel.

His heart gave a thunderclap then raced insanely.

“Wow… I never thought… Oh my fucking God.”

…

Twelve years ago

On the final day before winter break, the entire school was in the sports hall—supposedly doing crafts, though truthfully having a mass clay-fight.

Steve, however, liked clay modelling. Following the lead of fellow ‘non-nerd’ Chrissy—who also wanted to make rather than break something—he sat down at the ‘nerd’ table. Also following Chrissy’s lead, he began modelling an angel candle-holder.

Tommy H said only girls and weirdos made ornaments. Steve didn’t care. Even when Tommy chucked clay at him and it stuck in his hair. Even when that Munson freak came to chat with Chrissy and smirked at him.

He was making the angel for his mom, who liked everything clean, white and perfect. She’d like angels, right?

That evening, he waited till she’d stopped yelling about the clay on his clothes and in his hair. They were waiting for Steve’s babysitter, and she seemed in a good mood, so… “Mommy, I made this for you.”

She stared at it. Actually, through it. “Heavens. Is that why you ruined a brand-new sweater.”

The phone rang. Steve twitched his face, sniffed.

He was still holding out his angel like an idiot, when his mom told him the babysitter was sick. “We can’t let the Wheelers down. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”

The door closed. Steve’s face burned as if slapped. He stared at the angel—her brown splotchy eyes, her wonky pink smile. He’d not even put a candle in her. She was as idiotic and unlovable as he was.

He opened his hand and watched her smash on the parquet floor.

He ran to his room without picking up the pieces, though it’d get him in deep shit. He was burying his dumb tears in his pillow, when his worst nightmare got real—the one that always haunted him when his parents left him alone.

The crash of a breaking window.

…

Eddie’s dad called the posh folks’ party season ‘Santa’s giveaway.’ Tonight, Eddie learned why.

It was child’s-play to spot the empty houses—if the parents had left snot-nosed brats with babysitters, there’d be at least one light on. Trouble was, the locks got more sophisticated each year, forcing Al Munson to go ‘old school.’

Smash a window. Send a kid through to go open the door from inside.

There Eddie was, scrambling through, trying not to gash his knee on the broken glass. “It’s kinda Dickensian,” his pa said, “The old ways are sometimes best, son.”

Screw you, thought Eddie, skidding onto the polished floor. He tiptoed forward till his foot, and his torch-beam, struck something on the boards.

Huh?

A clay candle-holder, like Chrissy’s. But this wasn’t Chrissy’s angel. It was Harrington’s.

Eddie had never seen Harrington so serious about anything other than sport. He’d snickered, though admired the younger kid’s geek-like devotion to his art, wondering if Harrington might not always be such an a-hole.

He carefully picked up the broken pieces. It made him sad, somehow.

“Eddie,” Al hissed through letterbox. “Hurry the fuck up, kid.”

Eddie stuffed the angel in his pocket and opened the door.

…

Eddie held out the angel, watched Steve’s eyes stretch wide. Breath bating—and not actually looking like he wanted to punch Eddie—he took it.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “The night I broke this, we got burgled! I figured it was lost in the clear-up. I mean, I was there alone, hiding under my bed. I had nightmares for…” He trailed off, hazy eyes focussing, laser-sharp, on Eddie. “How the hell did you..?”

Eddie spilled it all. He held Steve’s hand, thumb gently caressing, as they literally put the pieces together.

“I can’t believe your dad made you do that,” breathed Steve, engulfing Eddie in a clingy hug. Eddie was so relieved. The burglary was the only secret he’d kept from Steve, and Steve was sweet and cool about it. They also both understood a little more about why they were both slightly allergic to the c-word. “One thing I don’t get,” said Steve, “why did you keep it?”

“Truthfully? I wanted to model something too, but was too busy fooling around. Oh, and had nobody to give it too. Keeping it was totally crazy, apart from…” Eddie plastered a teasing, wet kiss on Steve’s lips. “Hey, all those years I thought you were a dick? Seems I was secretly carrying a candle for you after all.”

Steve’s smile spread slowly and showered starlight through Eddie’s world. “Yeah? Well, after all these years, I’ve discovered I made her for somebody I truly love.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 424: Detroit Tears

Previously on BnHA: You know what, fandom is way too heated about this still so we’re just going to leave that be that for now and not get involved. I have some conflicted feelings about it, but this is not the place or time. This is a happy post.

Today on BnHA: Oh right, Horikoshi still owns the rights to my soul. And I’ve just been reminded of why I willingly signed them over to him so freely.

Quick heads up that this isn’t going to be my usual style of chapter reaction post, in that it’s really just going to be a ton of rambling about That One Scene. Partly because I’m only halfway caught up with stuff, but mostly because tbh, this is the only thing that matters to me right at this moment.

Also this is your friendly neighborhood spoiler warning that I’m posting about a chapter which hasn’t officially been released yet! So proceed at your own discretion. This reaction is based on @pikahlua’s excellent spoiler translation writeup here. I’ve officially lost all of my fucks about spoilers and it’s extremely liberating.

I’m glad that Kacchan’s arm isn’t just magically better and that he’s never going to be 100% again. and also that the doctor mentions him needing to rest his heart as well. because I did feel like there needed to be at least a few lasting consequences from him LITERALLY DYING AND UNDERGOING OPEN-HEART SURGERY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. but I’m also glad they established that it wasn’t career-ending or anything. he’ll probably have some chronic pain and occasionally aggravate his old injuries while fighting, all of which is great for angst purposes. but it was good to see him being calmly accepting of that while also being determined to put the work in to rehab it as much as possible.

also enjoyed the doctor summing up Kacchan’s highly improbable main character resurrection and subsequent antics as basically being some wild bullshit that nobody can explain. lampshaded the shit out of it. “I don’t really understand” lol. nobody understands. in truth it’s that his secondary quirk is bending reality to his will in order to kick ass.

moving on to the main event now! so Kacchan and Izuku’s reunion was obviously the highlight of this chapter and of my life, probably. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it wasn’t. y’all know how it is.

what really made this scene for me was Kacchan being more upset at Izuku’s loss than Izuku himself. all those callbacks and all that guilt. that careful selection of flashback panels. the fact that Kacchan’s past bullying of the quirkless Izuku wasn’t glossed over or forgotten, and in fact is the emotional core that fuels Kacchan’s reaction here. Horikoshi didn't have to cut that deep, but he knows what he's about.

and then the crying. I need to write a lot of words about this right the fuck now. first off, having Kacchan just flat out sob while Izuku for once is the calm one (at least until All Might goes in for the emotional kill later on), is such a beautiful reversal and really shows how far they’ve come. even better is that none of it was even remotely out of character. I’m always appreciative when an author can produce top tier emotional hurt/comfort like this and have it feel earned and authentic rather than forced. well done.

also, “Na--cchan!!” fuck yeah Izuku. we’ll never let him live this down. (but also, him later trying to reconcile his forever-tough image of Kacchan with the crying, hiccupping version standing in front of him, by blaming it on Kacchan’s weakened physical state... oh, Izuku.)

also the fact that Kacchan so easily reverts to this smol crying boy even after defeating the world’s greatest evil pretty much activated every protective instinct that I have. he’s seventeen. he’s practically a man now. he’s objectively one of the strongest and toughest people in the entire world. and yet his eyes still go so wide and his face is still so young and Horikoshi still draws him so tiny and vulnerable whenever he’s like this. goddamn gets me EVERY single time. let’s be real, it’s been this way ever since the “you looked like you needed saving” scene back in the literal first chapter. just, omg. he’s still just a kid and he’s too small to contain all these feelings SOMEONE HELP HIM.

anyway so NEEDLESS TO SAY, Kacchan full on mourning in between sobs because he wanted to keep being rivals with Izuku cut me to my core. I cried too, goddammit. because in Katsuki’s mind it’s like. he wasted a dozen years of potential friendship by being a giant asshole. and they were only able to start getting things back on track less than a year ago. and that was probably the best year of both of their lives. and that rivalry meant so much to both of them. pursuing their dreams together as equals. and he wanted it to continue!! he missed out on so much, and it was his own damn fault, and now it’s all being taken away again maybe!!

and I think it’s especially devastating to Katsuki because he was trying so hard to make up for how he treated Izuku, and then this comes along and now he’s worried it was all for nothing. he’s scared that Izuku will maybe have to quit being a hero. (we know that won’t happen, obviously, but Katsuki is living this and not just reading it. he’s never met narrator!Deku and doesn’t have the benefit of all that foreshadowing and stuff.) but even more than that, I think he’s scared that it will undo all of their progress toward mending their relationship. not because Katsuki thinks any less of Izuku now, quirk or no quirk; but because of how Izuku might feel about being quirkless again, and because of the memories it might bring flooding back to the surface. I don’t think Katsuki fully believes that Izuku has forgiven him. so that’s a major fear potentially rearing its ugly head once more now.

and of course, he’s also just sad and upset on Izuku’s behalf, because he knows Izuku is sad about it too, even if he’ll never show it and will just downplay it because of his selfless nature. it’s a major loss, and one deserving of tears being shed, even if Izuku won’t shed any of his.

so yeah. it’s a lot. in Katsuki’s mind it’s the potential loss of a partner (if Izuku quits heroics), and a friend (if Izuku does cool toward Katsuki as a result of being quirkless again), and a dream (of them reaching the highest heights together), and his friend’s dream. so it makes perfect sense that all of that would overwhelm him. all of this is stuff that’s broken him down on past occasions as well.

so anyway it’s going be very cathartic when all those fears prove to be unfounded (because they better be unfounded lol). but in the meantime it’s a very moving reminder of how much he really does care and how far the both of them have come.

also Horikoshi really couldn’t resist giving Nobu one last chance to destroy everyone when this scene rolls up in the anime. that’s so reckless of him. there will be no survivors.

All Might telling both of them they’d become the greatest heroes was also the perfect chef’s kiss moment on top of everything else. we already knew it, of course. but it was good to hear him say it. and they needed him to say it. they needed and deserved to hear it.

and I really love that the qualities he specifically praised them for were the same things that each of them had struggled with the most in their respective journeys. he tells Izuku, who had such a difficult time learning how to tell the world “I am here!!”, that he inspires everyone and has become everyone’s hero. and he reminds Katsuki, who struggled with learning how to save people, and has especially struggled with his guilt over what happened to All Might at Kamino, that he saved All Might’s life and is the reason he’s able to still be there with them. both of them just really needed to hear that acknowledgement and encouragement, and it was such a powerful passing of the torch moment. All Might gets so much shit from the fandom, but he really is a phenomenal mentor when he’s in the zone, and I’ll die on that hill.

also a nice touch keeping the focus of those panels on the two boys and their reactions. even though I would have liked to see All Might’s face when he thanked them at the end, it definitely felt deliberate. this is their moment. their soft little tearful smiles afterwards punted my heart off a cliff and then picked it up and held it gently.

lastly, let it be known that I’m still convinced Katsuki has OFA (All Might vestige explanation when??), and it’s not lost on me that that would be a mighty convenient way for Izuku to potentially still go on a-quirkin’ in the end, if that’s how Horikoshi wants to play it. I'm just saying.

also before I forget, just a quick shoutout to Horikoshi for FINALLY showing all three members of the Bakufam in a scene together in which they finally managed to not be completely dysfunctional lol. my deepest darkest BnHA secret is that Mitsuki is secretly super high up on my list of favorite characters. and she was great in this chapter, and I love how she was just “WHAT THE FUCK” aghast at Katsuki using his main character powers to continuously ignore his injuries. and then she and Masaru kind of silently agreeing to step outside the room and let the boys and All Might have their moment. while still secretly listening in. because you know they were. good for them.

lastly for reals, I just want you all to remember that as great as this chapter was, the one thing that it was STILL missing which we have STILL not gotten is a HUG. we demand HUGS. I’m not leaving this manga till I get a bkdk hug goddammit. I will stay here all night if I have to.

[thatstoomanysausages]

(Tomodachi Life): WHY IS THIS SO CANON

- Jimmy and Joel are calling

- LEWIS IS GROWN UP

- HES TALLER THAN JOEL😭😭 HAHAHAHHA

- God the 5 minute long flashback scene…

- I could skip it

- But memories…

- Skizz and Lizzie have had a fight

- I was thinking to myself: “can they even deny apologies” and then Lizzie basically goes “fuck you I don’t forgive you” like damn😭

- Grian and Scar are making goo goo eyes😭

- They saw me and turned away from each other all embarrassed😭

- Now they’re playing on the Wii

- Mumbo, Joe and Martyn are just jumping around the room like maniacs

- No braincells in that room. None at all.

- I go to Jimmy and Joel’s house and Joel’s have a shower

- You can tell it’s him in the silhouette because he’s so tiny😭😭😭

- Oh my god. Guess who’s in another fight?🤔

- It’s Grian!!!!😦😦😦😦😦😦

- With Joel, canon to Wild Life

- They made up, nice

- This game is bullshit. What do you mean Grian’s relationship with Scar is “slightly unhappy” but Scar’s relationship with Grian is “very much in love” WHAT THE FUCK

- Even Tomodachi Life doesn’t want these fuckers together

- Just gave Scar a muffin and he shot into space in happiness😭😭 you go king

- MARTYNS RELATIONSHIP STATUS WITH MUMBO IS “WANTS TO GET MARRIED”

- Also Martyn’s best friend relationship with Scar is “trustworthy” while Scar’s of Martyn is “really a best friend?” Damn.

- WAIT MUMBO’S RELATIONSHIP WITH MARTYN IS “unhappy”

- Are you fucking kidding me.

- No one can be fucking happy in this game.

- Wait… I’m playing a game with Joe and he was talking to distract me… and he said “Mumbo likes somebody” and I was like yeah I’d hope so, he’s dating Martyn. And then he said “he looks an awful lot like you, Grian’s lookalike(cause the first mii is always supposed to be yourself)”

- 😦 please just be fucking with me…

- Mumbo.. please don’t cheat on Martyn to get with Grian… you are both in a relationship

- (Wouldn’t be the first time Grian has cheated on Scar- I MEAN WHAT)

- Ren, Mumbo and Scar are having cafe gossip and Mumbo said “how can you tell when you are REALLY in love?” And Scar went “are you feeling okay” fucking support group ass convo

- Mumbo’s relationship is so fucked man 😭😭 watch out Martyn

- They’ve also gossiped about hearing noises from Gem and Tango’s room. And hearing rumours about Jimmy and Gem again

- once again.. Scar and Grian are staring at each other lovingly

- THIS IS GAYYYY

- Okay I read up on how to get a couple’s relationship status up a level, and it said to make them travel

- I gave Grian one and he went with his friends instead😭

- Then I gave Scar one and now they’re going together‼️‼️

- They were staring lovingly at each other before, so I have some hope

- Scar’s went up to “completely in love”, Grian’s is at “only just in love” mf sleep with one eye open.

- I’m gonna do it again.

- In a minute. Scar is setting up Lizzie and BigB on a date😭

- Did it work?

- NOOOOO JUST FRIENDS

- Ok fair

- OK SCARIAN TRAVEL TIME TO RAISE GRIANS LOVE METER ON SCAR

- THEYRE IN THE DESERT FUCK YEAHHHH

- He gave me desert sand as a souvenir. I know what you are.

- SCAR IS AT “WANTS TO GET MARRIED” YEAHHHHHHHH

- And Grian is just at “in love” which is the default. Motherfucker, please.

- I went in to check on Grian’s and just as I was about to enter, who came in? Scar. And they’re making goo goo eyes at each other again… “only just in love” my ass, well, not anymore I guess but shut up

- Fourth travel trip now…

- Scar is still the same as “wants to get married” is the highest status, and Grian’s is at “very much in love” WINNINGGGGGGG

- Okay I’ve got no more now.

- Grian has gone to Bigb’s place… don’t do this to me now.

- HA GRIAN FELL OVER HAHAHAHAH

- Oh my god, Jimmy and Joel date

- Cute

- My god so much happened…

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part one

you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars.

5.5k | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

tw: brief mentions of using your body for trading purposes, you shoot at joel miller????, light dub-con but that goes away quickly

warnings: post-outbreak au. no ellie. angsty smut, semi-dom!reader and dom!joel so that's fun, power struggle, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), enemies to lovers, voyeurism (f watching m), masturbation (m and f), pet names/degrading names (baby, honey, darlin', brat, bitch, slut, etc.), dirty talk, choking, oral (m receiving), fingering, spanking, p in v (unprotected - wrap it up folks), joel is mean but not unkind. no use of y/n.

summary: inspired by "cowboy by me" by our lord and savior taylor swift. this is a post-outbreak world and joel has his own land. think bill, but a little less... deranged. kind of. you essentially are a raider, but make it fashion. when you stalk joel's cabin for the third day, that's when you get interrogated by none other than joel miller himself.

A/N: hi, i'm bee! this is my first fic on tumblr, and my first stab at this whole stratosphere. longtime listener; first time caller 💅. i was ALSO inspired by an ask i saw on @swiftispunk's page (hi! i love your writing sm??) and kinda just... ran with it. i honestly wasn't anticipating writing stuff during the outbreak, so i apologise if it's not quite right. imagine me living during that time with a tube of lipgloss and one (1) bullet in my pocket just in case. this... may be a series. i don't know yet. see ya! enjoy!!!

The first time you meet Joel Miller is down the barrel of your gun.

You can hear your father's voice telling you 'Back out, girl. Don't get too big for your britches.' Look where that got him. His ashes against your chest in a makeshift pendant necklace, buried by your clothes.

Still, you listen.

"It don't have to be like this," you drawl with index over the trigger guard. You've heard of him. Joel Miller. He's notorious, and even though you've kept to yourself most of your life, his name still roamed throughout the abandoned towns you passed. Someone always owed him, and he always owed somebody.

Your dad would've been older than him, but not by much. You knew of the world before this, was just a little thing. Still, you heard stories undulate from your father's southern voice that mostly left you bored on long days searching for food or shelter. You'd give anything to hear them now.

Part of you died when he did.

You were young when the outbreak happened. Resourceful, your father made it work in raising you. Taught you how to fend for yourself, rely on no one. Which was no easy feat considering how unbelievably stubborn you were. Were? Are.

Maybe he loved you. Maybe it was the chip on his shoulder. The kind of anguish that comes from not being able to give your mother the same kind of life. A promise to her.

Yes, you were young when the outbreak happened, but flashbacks of her getting attacked by a clicker burn you alive at night.

"Y'er on my land." A gruff voice calls you back to reality. Few words for someone who held your life in his hands. His own gun pointing back at you. Of course it would be.

"I was just passin' through." The lie flies through your teeth. You had been circling the place from a reasonable distance for a few days now. Scoping out when this man in front of you was his busiest, when he patrolled, when he slept. This was a heist situation, no doubt about it.

"Bullshit. This s'the third fuckin' time I seen you 'round here. And it's y'er last."

Shit. Fucking shit.

Your eyes dart to the side, really trying to pattern a plan in escaping but your breathing would say otherwise as calm and collected as it was.

In any other situation, you wouldn't be so willing to comply, but considering he's got you cornered and his gun is quite literally cocked and ready to go – you're not exactly in the position to make hasty decisions.

Goddammit if there wasn't something about him that made you nervous.

"Listen. Just was lookin' for somewhere to sleep. It's fuckin' cold and your stables look warm." Your head tilts in the direction of a lone horse's home in a bed of hay, and you're not fully lying. It's not that you have set up camp by any means, but you've noticed.

"We could trade. You give me y'er ammo, and I g–"

"You give me your cock, I get it. You really could be more original." You were used to this. Bartering, some might call it. Living out here on your own was dangerous, and running into men who wanted to use your body in order to get supplies wasn't that uncommon. If they were that kind, even. You'd heard the horror stories.

Albeit, most of these men met your gun in the end. Enabling you acquire their supplies, keep all yours, and your dignity. Win/win.

"...I give you the pleasure of livin' another day. Really? Y'think it's that easy?"

There was something in the way Joel says this that makes you grateful for the jacket you're wearing. Goosebumps prickle your skin, bile creeping up your throat and you will it back down again. Y'think it's that easy? As if he thought you wanted it.

If circumstances were different, you'd be rubbing the crimson off your cheeks. Flashing him a sheepish grin in an attempt to resolve whatever misunderstanding there was... but this wasn't the environment to elicit such conversation.

And you weren't that type of person to begin with.

Instead, your index sweeps from guard to trigger when you fire off at his leg. Hasty decisions be damned. You're quicker than him, so why're you tryin' to save him? You're a 'shoot to kill' type of person, and as the bullet grazes past his calf – part of you wishes you had.

Because not only did your bullet not make contact, Joel gets worse. You two lock eyes. His rifle is thrown over his shoulder as he grunts and walks perfectly fine over to you – despite the way his eyebrows knit together, jaw ticked. Was that a grin? Do something, anything – run.

Joel grips the nape of your neck, and you yelp in surprise.

Who the fuck does this man think he is?

His large hand eclipses your wrist as he maneuvers the gun from your hand. The action makes you writhe in pain, and it sends a shiver down your spine to know he's only using an ounce of his power.

You dig your elbow into his ribs despite him stronger than you. Stomping, kicking, punching anything you can find.

"What the fu–"

"Little girl, you picked the wrong one." His breath edges at the shell of your ear, and every sign should be pointing for you to hate this, but it almost feels familiar. Like yourself. It's only then when you worry.

---

You don't realise it, but Joel is pushing you inside his cabin. Keeping your head in direction of the ground, thud of the door heard somewhere behind you.

"You want to be treated like a big girl? Get these fuckin' pants off."

"What... what? No I'm fuckin' not–"

Joel chews up the space between you when he pushes you to the nearest wall. Your back at his chest, a cheek flush against the cabin's support.

Pine, tobacco, and whiskey fill your senses and you bite back the urge to whimper. He wouldn't see you like that.

"You're not? That why you were watchin' me jerk off last night? 'Cuz you don't wanna give it up?"

That alone makes blood creep up your neck and spill over your cheeks. You have to squeeze your legs together to quell the ache.

It was lonely on your own.

Most nights were spent half asleep on a cold, hard surface. Tired and hungry more days than not. You don't remember the last time you got a hot meal, much less been touched. So when you heard Joel's low grunts coming from the window (a window from a cabin you don't know quite yet that he built with his own hands) you become intrigued.

It's in this moment you're certain it must have been the rustling of branches just outside his room. You remember it happening last night, cursing to yourself for making noise. His fist stalled around the girth of his fat cock before spilling his seed over his stomach. As if that is what caused him to come.

It makes sense now, and it equally causes you to become dizzy and filled with rage. You bite your bottom lip, unable to think of a response.

"Mouthy thing ain't got much to say now. Now c'mon. I ain't taking these off you, doin' it y'erself." More of a warning, Joel lets up on his grip on you, but you're defenseless. No weapons, no pack. He's got your world in his hands.

With the newly found space between the two of you, you turn around – back of your head against the wall as your eyes find the other set for, perhaps, the first time. And they're deep. Deeper than you were aware of. Dark, impossibly round. Wrinkles reside on the sides of them, and if you knew any better, you wouldn't admit they were doing something to you.

But not only are you stubborn, you're too forthright to beat around the bush.

"I shot at you, and you want my cunt? You must be lonelier than I a–"

"Now."

Your words don't match your actions as your hands fall by your sides. Fingers play with zipper of your old, faded jeans that have seen better days.

You can't help but snicker an awkward laugh from how he's just watching you. Insecurities rise when you realise you're not laughing at him, but more his eyes on you. How intense it feels suddenly. He wants this. Wants you.

His eyes draw impatiently, broad frame leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

"Ain't got all day. Still considerin' your death."

His arms. Bulging through the fabric of his shirt, his body was built in a way that you could tell he worked with his hands... maybe in his past life, too. Throat dry, you shimmy out of your pants until you're left in your cotton panties.

Ones that you are becoming more aware the condition of. A small pool of wetness forming at the core of you clings to the fabric.

"Top, too."

Is that? It is. Your eyes wander down to see the growing bulge in Joel's pants. Not even the hem of his flannel could hide it. Sure, you'd seen it in its full form the night before, but that was with distance and without the heat rising between the two of you.

You bite your lip without hesitation, pulling the layers of jacket and a handful of tops onto the ground until you're bare. The cool air passes over your nipples and wills them into stiff peaks.

"Ain't you somethin', baby."

That's the first time Joel Miller draws a shaky exhale out of you. All from a single sentence.

When Joel steps over to you, that calm and collected breath is nowhere to be found. Your chest rises and falls at a random pattern, feeling more and more naked by the second as his clothes are completely kept on his body. A purposeful tactic.

He bends down to collect your clothes along with everything else that yours, and you are truly at his will. So busy on the precipice of pleasure that you don't even think about trying to get away.

"Stay."

"Ain't a dog." You glare, standing with your legs brushing together.

"Then quit actin' like a bitch. And quit movin', I'm gettin' to you."

It shuts you up quick, jaw snapping shut. You're certain if he told that to anyone else they'd be reduced to tears, but you can take it. It coils a heat inside the pit of your stomach that you've never felt. Causes your clit to feel as if it's on fire from the need to touch it.

Joel turns on his heel to walk away and it's as if you're able to breathe fresh air from the humidity he brings. You notice he's putting your things and his rifle away on his kitchen counter before coming back to you. He must really trust his ability to keep everything out like that.

Then again, have you even moved in the last five minutes?

The last thing he is, is worried.

You're able to look around, if only for a moment. Though, is it really looking? Your adrenaline is pumping, pupils blown from the fact that not only are you in the house you'd been stalking... you're about to fuck the man in it. And you almost tried to kill him. You definitely didn't miss on purpose. Couldn't have.

All the same, the cabin was nice, and you could take in briefly the light wood – old and weathered. A record player in the corner beside a guitar. This stuff could get you a lot in return, but for whatever reason that doesn't even cross your mind. Maybe your heart beating in your ears is a handy distraction to keep you walking the line.

Your eyes track the rugged man instead.

---

"Here's how this is gonna go," he announces, coming back to you and not phased that you haven't moved a muscle. "You are gonna take your ass over there on the couch. You're gonna make me come, then you're gonna go. Understand?"

"Well... I guess it is that easy."

Your bratty mouth getting you in trouble again. As if you're in the position to say anything. Naked as you are.

---

Joel's jaw ticks forward in a way that makes you feel fear, yet there's a direct correlation between it and the slick gathering between your folds. The same wide hand that gripped the nape of your neck wraps around the front of your throat while he pushes you against the wall, and your shoulders slump – all but folding instantly.

His mouth is inches from yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Listen here. I've been real kind to you. Coulda killed ya day one, tryin' to steal my shit like that. Was gonna be real kind in where I fucked ya, too. Now we're gonna fix that mouth a'yours and fast. Knees. Now." You soon come to know this isn't a suggestion. It's not even a warning. It is what's happening.

It's in the way Joel's hands guide you down onto your knees. He goes for his belt and you hear and see that distinct clang of metal untangle before your very senses. Your mouth waters instantly, teetering into fully giving into this struggle of power.

Joel's hands are calloused. You can tell he takes care of them, but that doesn't hide the wear and tear. Specifically on his fingertips. They grip your jaw roughly, and you choke back a moan as your mouth hangs open pliantly from this. Every nerve ending buzzing to be touched.

"Where'd that bratty girl go, huh? You done bein' big and bad – wanna be a slut, don’tcha?"

Your eyelash splay along your cheeks as you nod, and you feel his grip tighten, tugging your chin up higher.

"Look at me. You want this cock? I need your words. Tell me you wanna be a slut."

You're not sure when it happens, but hot tears run down your cheeks as everything comes to a head. Your body is trembling with raw desire right at your fingertips, just within reach. You can't hold back anymore, it physically hurts to.

"I wanna be a slut for this cock... please."

"Fuck, even a please. Oughta eat you out for that, sugar. Maybe next time."

Your brain is swimming at the thought. Next time?

With his free hand, Joel sets his cock free from his jeans, giving a satisfying smack to his abdomen quickly. No need for another piece of fabric keeping him from getting what he wants as you soon take note he isn't wearing boxers.

There's no denying what you're met with as you get to view it from this close. Joel Miller has a pretty cock. There's a soft, but bulging vein on the underside to match how big and thick it is. The rosy tip greets you, and it's the first time you get to see how much you've turned him on.

Your mouth is drooling while it's pried open and meets the tip of him. A moan from you is instantaneous, yet feels so distant from yourself, it doesn't affect you until much later. The taste of his precum coats your tongue as he slips past your lips and it's all you can experience. Your moans slip in and out of the sloshing sounds of your mouth. Keeping your hands by your sides, you don't tempt to touch him in fear he would pull away, so instead you twirl your tongue around his leaking head. Bob your head up and down in a slow, but sultry rhythm that causes him curse under his breath. He's not stoic above you, he's reacting.

He's clawing for every last bit of the upper hand.

"S'a lot, innit, babygirl? That's alright, you can take it." It's then you can sense Joel's guard slipping. Could be the fact that your mouth is suctioned perfectly around the length of his cock, but his voice gets damn sweeter the longer you go like this. His hips also have no problem in thrusting shallowly every now and then to knock the drool off of your dripping chin.

Even if you could form a thought, you don't know you would.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it out of your face as you maintain eye contact. Intuitive in your approach, he told you to look at him earlier, so maybe he likes it? The groans filling the room lead you to believe you are correct. It feels so removed from who you were moments before: snickering because his gaze felt intimidating. Now, his pupils are blown as they pour into yours and his neck hangs back when your mouth makes those pretty, sloppy popping noises – testing your gag reflexes as you will them to relax.

It's way more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone you've ever been with, and this stranger is pulling it out of you. Within the mess your brain is in, you remind yourself if you want to stop you can, and not a bit of you does.

The hot tears that were once down your cheeks swell in your eyes once more, but this time from the sheer size of him. You moan vibration after vibration against him, shifting and pushing your cunt against your calf, thigh – anything to feel some sort of friction.

He lets out a growl when he notices you, "Honey, if it's that bad, touch yourself." If your cheeks weren't red before, they are now.

It's him calling you out, slight embarrassingly, but not letting up with his hips. It's the way the embarrassment builds the fire in the pit of your belly. It's your hand pushing inside your panties at the sound of his command. And it's you practically choking on his cock from the gasp you let out through your nose – stunned at how wet you are.

Your fingertips barely brush over your clit when you notice the slick collecting, bubbling right at the very top of your slit and slutty moans fall out of you. Your eyelids droop as you try to keep your gaze up to Joel, but the way your fingertips roll over the hood of your clit in satisfying circles sends you over the edge way quicker than you anticipate.

"Shit, baby. Just like that. You filthy thing, can't hold off another minute longer, can ya? Need it right fuckin' now."

The sound of Joel's deep voice looms overhead as you come completely undone.

Unable to stop yourself, the suction on his cock pops free for a moment. Your moans hitting the air as your eyes roll back. Your body rushing to find each wave of pleasure roll off your back. Joel's cock still nestled in your mouth, but his hips still. "Goddamn, look at that little slut come out. Such a needy fuckin' kitten."

When Joel makes sure you've ridden it out, he pulls his cock from your mouth. Your body feels weak despite how eager your mind is now, face-to-face with Joel's cock, you watch as his scarred hand glides your saliva over his length entirely. It puts you in a trance, quickly getting out of it when he taps his cock against your cheek. "Pretty kitten want this? C'mon."

If your moans felt foreign to you, you don't even know what to do with yourself at the twinge of a grin that spreads on your face. The sheer audacity of his taps right against your fucking cheek. Orgasm-drunk, you shuffle to your feet and Joel has no problem in tossing you – finally – to the couch.

Your back is to him while the front of your body brackets the width of his couch, arms hunched over the back of it, knees dig into the cushions. You're grateful for the lack of eye contact in this position as it gives you a moment to press your face into your bicep, an attempt to collect yourself. But all of it obsolete when you sense Joel's presence at your ass.

His body heat unmistakable to miss. You bite at your own skin, neck craning to behind you to watch him.

"Shit, darlin', look at you. Ass up like this like y'er in fuckin' heat for me." You whine at the fact his clothes are still mostly on, and you know he must be sweating underneath them, but he won't give it to you like that. Not yet, 'maybe next time'. "You know I can't go any further 'til you get a spankin'. Need to be punished for tryin' to hurt me like that. For tryin' to take my things. Ain't right. Need you to learn your lesson."

Where are you? A part of you knows this is a tactic. That Joel is lulling you into a position you can't say no to. It already shows itself in how you're splayed on his couch. Yet, you can't find the person you were before you stepped into the cabin. Not yet, not like this. You nod weakly, and Joel swipes the cotton undies down to your thighs so quickly the rush of air cools the heat of your folds. A flutter runs through you.

"Count. To ten. If you don't, we start over. Say, yes sir."

"Y-yes... sir. Yes sir."

A searing, mind-numbing spank wallops over your ass and it causes your hips to jut forward. Whimper hitting the top of your throat, you almost, almost, forget to count. Everything in your senses distracting you from completing the simplest tasks such as fucking counting.

"O-one." Another. "Twooo." And again. "Th-three!"

You start sniffling by the third smack of his wide hand, and you hear mocking sniffs behind your head. "Aww, pretty baby can't take the hurt she tries to give to others? That must be really tough. Y'heart's bleedin' all over my couch, honey."

Your cheeks burn, you really feel sorry for what you've done. Or at least, what you were planning to do.

The next spank leaves a welt of Joel's handprint across your skin. "FOUR!" Your body begins to feel weak, sliding against the couch, you know talking back is useless as you silent tears stream into your arm.

There are six more blinding slaps to your ass by the time he's done with you, and you feel him pull back when he's through. You imagine him wringing his palms, the roughness of them. You begin to wonder if that's how they got to be so weathered, and pretend not to be weirded out by the ache of jealousy.

"Y'know for somebody whinin' the whole time, your pussy is just droolin' from that," any narrative you wandered off with disappears in its replacement of Joel's fingers gathering slick between your folds. No announcement, just go. It was just within reach, feeling him inside you. You ride the shudder your body makes, licking your lips as you realise the unspoken rule is free and you can speak. "N-need it. Need your cock, please... please." "Need it, and you don't even know my name?" His index and middle finger waste no time in pressing into your aching core. Sounds of your wailing mix with his words as he lurches over, lip close to your ear. "Or maybe you do already."

"Please, please, please," your fingertips grip for the worn fabric of his couch while your hips that try to jut back are quickly halted by his other palm, a strong stopper at the base of your spine. "Not 'til you tell me my name." "I-I don't know. I don't know it, I swear." Joel's thick fingers slip completely out of you and you mewl pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing and he can see every last detail of it behind you. "Last fuckin' time, better tell me the truth." "It's Joel," you cry, hips pushing back against the resistance as much as possible. Anything to be filled again. "Joel. Joel. Joel. I was... I was– I don't know anybody. Not with anybody, I swear! Joel, I swear. Please! Just grew up hearin' your name. I swear on my life, Joel, please! I know I lied, didn't think you'd believe me."

You don't know why you're begging like your life depends on it, but your pleasure surely does, and there's a longer pause than you want lingering behind you. As if you can palpably feel Joel contemplating whether you're being truthful or not. But if there's one thing about you, aside from this moment in this compromising position: you don't answer to anybody.

Joel's cock bottoming out inside of you at the drop of a hat is confirmation enough that he believes you.

And you not only wail, but scream at the stretch and irresistible contact that punches you straight to your gut – right where you can feel the tip of him. Half-moon prints dig into your hips by his short fingernails when he grabs ahold of you and you're on your forearms, head hanging between your shoulders. Your panties keep your thighs straying too far apart if there is such a thing.

"This what you wanted when you watched me?" Joel grips your torso now, pulling you closer to him as you become more upright, his cock more accessible to the spongy spot inside of you and your nipples stand erect, eyes rolling back as it takes all of you not to rest your head back against his shoulder, and you fail. Hard. Your occiput makes contact with his shoulder. Joel brushes your hair back to the side, lips graze but never fully touches the column of your neck. "Thought about this tight cunt last night. Left the window open on purpose, but you knew that already, didn't you, pretty girl? Clever little thing and so fuckin' dirty."

Joel's hand snakes around the front of you, spreading your folds as he dives his fingers over your glossed-over clit your wetness claimed and that sends a whine off of your depraved lips. "That's it, honey. Show me what this cock does to ya. Makes you downright brainless from how well you take it." While his skilled fingers, toy with your clit, the other set of digits graze over your breasts on their way up to your mouth. You take them inside the warmth of your wet mouth easily, rolling your tongue over the digits until you can only focus on the white hot pleasure beginning to boil over. You keep his fingers between your teeth, a faint realisation that you can taste yourself on them. That's what does it.

His hips are relentless as they pound into you, the repetitious slaps of his skin against yours, of his balls tapping your cunt again and again sends you into a place that he knows you're approaching when you tighten and pulse.

"Y'know how tight and wet you feel around me, darlin'? Never had a fuckin' cunt like this. Let it out, let it out, just like you wanna. Just like you did last night around your fingers. Nothin' like this cock though, and you know it now, don't you? Oh, fuck yeah– thaaat's it. Look at you." "Joel... Joel!!!" Joel talks you through it, sending your body diving off the cliff that is your second orgasm. The undeniable gush of your fluids around his cock. His name stays stuck at the your tongue, the constant thud of it vibrates your lungs.

It starts at the attention on your clit. The raw bundle of nerves send signals outward as it spreads down your legs, up your stomach, to your nipples and down your spine. Your brain feels effervescent, toes curl, and it comes back again right to your heart. Your beating heart, wild, and every moan, whimper, scream that comes from you sounds like it is from someone else's chest. But it's yours, and you know that when you start to feel hazy, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

"Good for my cock after all. Ain't ya, baby? Shit."

Your torso leans forward while your cheek rests on the top of your hand that's gripped on Joel's couch, and your body is relaxed and fucked. Comfortably silent, just the way Joel would want you. His cock slips out of you, unable to stop the slew of grunts and groans that acts as an anchor to keep you from slipping under. You lick your lips, looking back at him with a nod, unable to stay silent for long. That struggle of power coming back for vengeance. "That's right. Come all over this ass you ruined. See those handprints? Dirty fucking man, you just met me. Show me how much you enjoyed doing that."

That's as far as you get when you feel the heavy streams of his hot, white come rope over your skin, and for someone who is no position to be smug, you sure do have a shit-eating grin on your face. Pure, and the simplest thing the two of you accomplish.

Joel shakes his head, shallow breaths become him as he staggers back and you pretend not to notice. "Gonna kill me, kid."

"Almost did."

---

You don't know why, but neither of you hold the promise of you leaving right away. You linger, both of you half naked and spent. You take your time cleaning yourself off, slipping your clothes back on. Day becoming night.

You tiptoe into the living room where Joel is unfurled on his couch. His eyes are closed, the back of his head inches away from where the two of you just had sex.

Planning your goodbye, you sit at the edge of the couch cushion, knowing he wasn't really asleep. Just restin' his eyes.

"I am sorry...," you finally say into the dimly lit room, pangs of annoyance fizz at your tongue for even apologising. For shooting him, for trying to steal from him. All of it.

It's not his fault. It's just how you are.

This is dichotomous in relation to your eyes. They're bleary when a yawn pulls deep from within you. As if rest had been climbing up to the surface this entire time.

"Maybe you should be apologisin' 'bout your shitty aim. Could teach you a thing or two." Joel's eyes remained closed, arms crossed. If you could let yourself experience this, you would notice how soft he looks in this moment. Instead, your stomach is recoils in fight or flight.

You're glad he can't see you swallow the knot in your throat.

There was no magical solution for your life, and a part of you wishes you hadn't chosen his cabin to raid. You wish you hadn't met him, because now you could feel yourself want to notice the small things in him. Already.

You felt it dangerous to let anything that close to you.

You scoff to play it off, giving his chest a light shove and very accidentally getting lost in the light landscape of hairs that resides at the top of his flannel. "I could teach you a thing or two." A pathetic response for a pathetically spent human.

"We could both teach each other," he resigns and you're grateful he doesn't point out your lack of wit for how worn out he's made you. Perhaps the smugness settles in the things he doesn't say. Really, it's in what Joel spouts off next that throws you upside down.

"S'why you should stay. One month. That's it."

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't stuttered," your eyes roll and somehow, despite Joel's own being shut, he tuts his teeth. "Don't roll your eyes at me, little girl. You need a place to sleep. Besides, I could use an extra set of hands. Way I see it, best offer you've had in a while. Got a shelf life, though. Don't like to wait."

A part of you is suspicious, and if this man didn't make sure you orgasmed twice, you would suspect yourself to be dead within a matter of minutes.

There's something true about him, though. You're unwilling to look at it directly, but you trust him.

"Fine."

"Gonna need clearer confirmation, darlin'. Really need you to want this if you're gonna stay with me." He knew exactly where to press.

"Fuck, I shoulda killed you when I had the chance. I want to stay with you. One month." You try to ignore the grit between your teeth as speak, but your shoulders eventually soften. And you really do mean it. It's just... you're hardened from years of misplaced trust.

Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck subconsciously.

Joel either doesn't notice, or gives you the space.

You're grateful either way.

"That's that, then."

If anyone could understand the concept, it's Joel.

"That's that."

[martialartslover7]

Unpopular opinion incoming: ...Why do NaruHina fans even like The Last?

Unironically, I really want to know why, because, I am a huge NaruHina shipper myself, and even still, this movie never fails to aggrevate me in the worst way possible, even now, not even getting angry or anything, but... I just feel empty. I feel nothing. Not even the kiss made it worth, and I am HUGE sucker for sappy romances from time to time. Hell, I am a romance author, as a hobby. But this movie, it legit felt like, I just wasted my freaking time. That's a far worse sensation than getting mad, because, I just got nothing smart to say about it.

So, let me get this straight, and I am pretty sure, I am speaking of behalf of anyone that even remotely supports these two as one: The series NEVER making Naruto acknowledge Hinata's confession, was just damned moronic, even from a writing standpoint, because, yeah, in Japanese, it can mean two different things when you say "I love you", I know that, it might just mean "I love you as a teammate", but honestly, considering that NaruHina, by this point, was always meant, even according to Kishimoto, in hindsight, not acknowledging this moment for years to come, until the movie had to speak up about it: You lost the plot. If it was always meant to happen, why did you write it in a way as if Naruto straight up ignored everything she said?

And listen, I know, Naruto is a really delayed mofo, but the movie tried to paint it as if, "Naruto is a dense idiot, who isn't in touch with his own feelings, so you have to put him in a Genjutsu to """see the depths of her feelings for him"""", but honestly, to me, this just felt like a really convenient excuse to just regress Naruto as a person, just so the ship can happen, essentially, "guilt-tripping" him into going, "Ohhh, Hinata always had feelings for me, I didn't notice, even though she risked her life". Again, again, again, none of the events would even bother me so much, if it weren't for the undeniable fact: Somehow, during Shippuden, they tried to make it seem "ambigious", by not addressing her confession, EVER. Like, almost as if, Sakura was meant to be "the final option, because of Kushina", but it was clearly bullshit, and the movie wasn't subtle on that front either. But then, WHY WASN'T IT BROUGHT UP? WHY DID NARUTO NOT SAY ANYTHING?

And before any of you stupid motherfuckers are going to accuse me of being a "closeted NaruSaku shipper", I am not. These two simply wouldn't have ever worked out in the long run, for one thing, because I am not a fan of this trope, of the girl always needing to use violence, on an already traumatized individual (not to mention, that being played for laughs, which also rubs me the wrong way, especially in regards to comic relief characters), and him just going with it, which, by the way, isn't very realistic at all, as to why Naruto never got cross with Sakura at one point or another (one can of worms, I want to talk about some other time), and secondly, c'mon now, look at these two. They are more siblings than anything. As if, two different halves and shades of Kushina live inside the two of them, individually.

Not to mention, why are you NaruHina fans so comfortable with pardoning bad writing, brushing it off as if it's "deeper than you think"? Because, I just can't see it any other way, both Naruto and Hinata were frankly OOC in this movie, considering, this is all supposed to take place after the war. I can forgive Naruto being an idiot, who is slow on the draw, but straight up going "he is just dense", is frankly retarded, considering, we are talking about the equivalent to ninja Jesus Christ with him here, who basically loves everyone like family (safe for the villains), but then comes Hinata, he confesses first, but somehow "he is dense"? Why do we even need a fucking Genjutsu for all this? Doesn't he remember a person he truly loved like her, of ALL people? So we are left with having to rely on made-up flashbacks, which never even happened in the original series (only in Shippuden, late-game), and a contrived plot device, that comes in the name of "Otsutsuki"?

On that note, I really do not like what this movie did with Hinata. Look, "Toneri was messing with her chakra", even if that were true, it doesn't change anything, because it's still an excuse to make her another damsel in distress for Naruto to save. I get it, Hinata is not like Naruto in that, she bears his battle attributes, but sheesh, man, are you really fine with regressing her back to the Genin, who can't even run down walls to save her life? This is a mess, I really cannot approve of this, Hinata is way stronger than that, and we all know it, this just isn't acceptable to me. I want my couple dynamic to be evenly distributed to feel absolutely comfortable.

And this is acceptable to you all? I call it, for what it is: Terrible writing. Stitched together with convenient excuses, just to have the ship happen somehow, in an artificial way, despite having criminal lack of shared screentime together, non-canon content excluded, by the way (I am sorry, I have to be consistent here).

With all this knowledge, the movie comes off as a truly cringeworthy attempt to try appeasing to us, who love these two together. The sappy music, the "larger-than-life" presentation, the overt reliance on spectacle, rather than substance, is just making this experience even worse for me.

Peace.

P.S.: This is just my silly, personal opinion, if you love this movie, more power to you. But to me, this is one of those pieces of media that genuinely make me feel miserable.

[scuderiasundays]

the way i do

summary: holiday traditions lead to flashbacks of the right person he met at the wrong time 💌

words: 706

a/n: haven't written in ages but something compelled me to write this short piece (slightly inspired by "long live"). timely considering it’s taylor’s birthday! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz just because. any and all feedback much appreciated as always! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

"Papa, who's this? The lady standing beside you?"

Isla, the spitting image of her father, looked up at Lando with those piercing blue-green eyes. With Christmas just around the corner, the Norris family honored their long-standing tradition of leafing through old photos together. A storied career and a blissful family life had amassed into a pile of scrapbooks as tall as young Isla herself.

Yet, Lando found himself taken aback as Isla's chubby pointer finger rested on a particular figure in the photo. This image, long tucked away in a box of sentimental keepsakes, hadn't seen the light of day in ages. He was captivated by the scene of pure elation, his champagne-soaked figure, and the look of admiration in her eyes. This was São Paulo 2023, his last podium in a tumultuous season. Coincidentally, it was the last time he laid eyes on her, though not by his own choosing.

-

The stakes were palpably high as the Formula 1 season drew to a close. Despite the heightened cheers from the crowd, the pressure bore down on Lando, almost devouring him whole. The two were similar in that way, devout believers in what Lando playfully termed a "don’t let them in, don’t let them see" mentality.

You had known for months that Lando wasn’t being upfront with you. You hadn’t been there as much as he desired in a season that had tested his belief in McLaren and, more importantly, his self-confidence. It resonated in his voice and his wandering gaze when he spoke of other drivers’ partners following them from race to race. Lando had always made it a point to acknowledge and champion your genuine passion for clinical genetics. You had been the one to introduce Lando to Girlstart, a nonprofit dedicated to exposing young girls to high-quality STEM experiences. Your heart grew twice its size as you watched him interact with the girls throughout the race weekend. However, it wasn't lost on you that, despite honoring your independence, half of his being yearned for the simplicity of going to bed and waking up beside you every day.

As the team gathered for a celebratory group photo, you entwined your fingers with his as you lined up in front of Lando's garage. Three reassuring squeezes, a habit from their early dating days when privacy was paramount. He squeezed right back. Mentally, you pledged to open up to him later, fully aware that you risked losing the person who mattered most.

-

You sat with him by the hotel pool, a glass of rosé in hand. You needed all the liquid courage you could get for what was about to ensue.

"What’s the matter?" Lando gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

"I need you to be honest with me, not just because I’m asking, but because you love me. Do you think this is working?"

"What kind of question is that, love?"

"I know this might seem out of the blue, but I’ve been contemplating this deeply, and I-." A single tear fell as you struggled to gather your thoughts.

"Hey, hey, hey. I already know what you’re about to say. It’s alright."

"You do?"

"I’ve had this strange feeling all weekend. Something about our connection and all." Your heart shattered as his eyes fell.

"I wonder if I’ll ever find a love like ours again," he said, his voice shaking.

"Oh, but you will, Lando. I just know it."

"Feels far-fetched at the moment."

He leaned into the crook of your neck, the cold metal of his necklaces laying against your skin.

"Are we consciously uncoupling right now?" you asked, seeing the faintest smile emerging on his lips.

"An amicable separation in every sense. None of that Hollywood bullshit."

-

Just one glance at that photo had transported Lando to that night so many years back. The years that had gone by allowed him to really take her image in. The way her eyes crinkled, the dimples he so loved, and the evident pride emanating as she cupped his face.

She must’ve really loved me, he thought to himself.

"That’s Y/N, darling. Someone special who made daddy smile like no other."

"The way I do?"

"The way you do, sweet Isla."

[pluckyredhead]

Red Hood and the Outlaws #6 (2011)

Hey, remember when I was recapping this series? Well, unfortunately for all of us, I'm gonna do it some more.

I will admit this is a pretty good cover.

This shit, however, makes me so mad. What an absolutely lazy waste of space. This comic is 20 pages long, not including the cover. That means that this two page spread is literally an entire tenth of the story, and it's used to convey...what? That Jason just fought some guys who were trying to smuggle nukes into Miami.

A two-page spread is meant to deliver impact: a crucial moment in the story, a stunning piece of art, an impressive sense of scale (Galactus looming over the Earth, whatever). This does none of that. Most of the page is just a teal gradient; Rocafort didn't even bother to draw an impressive underwater scene. (I kind of don't blame him, because it would have been a waste of his time, since this scene is NOT NARRATIVELY IMPORTANT.)

Also, the page before this is also a splash, and the one after is three panels depicting Jason caught in an explosion, and that's a generous description considering that one of the panels has nothing in it but bubbles. So now we're up to TWENTY percent of the comic, a full FIFTH of the story, and we have conveyed LITERALLY NOTHING except "Jason got caught up in an underwater explosion."

This is lazy writing and lazy art. This is charging the reader for 20 pages of story and delivering maybe seven, content-wise. It's shamelessly ripping off the audience, and they aren't even trying to pretend they aren't doing it. I don't know if Lobdell didn't have enough story in him or if he was trying to give Rocafort more time to drawn stupid little lines all over everything, New 52-style, but it pisses me off.

Anyway, Jason wakes up on an island a few days later (and a narration box on the first page established that this takes place before RHATO #1):

This page has six panels which is a very respectable amount, although I still don't think it's a great use of space. But I guess Rocafort was really busy adding wood texture to all the panel borders for no reason. Anyway the little pile of leaves Kori has graciously dropped over Jason's dick is very funny.

Jason wakes up, tries to demand his pants from Kori at gunpoint, and passes out again. He has a flashback to the world's most hideous Nightwing costume:

Awful. Also, Jason flounces off in a bratty little fit in the next couple panels, but I support him, because if you actually read what Dick's saying, it's meaningless filler.

See, now this is an appropriate use of a two-page spread for impact and scale. Much more effective. Imagine how effective it would have been if every other spread for five issues hadn't tried and failed at this!

Kori offers Jason some clothing, which turns out to be the hideous Nightwing suit, and Jason flashes back to Under the Red Hood: Shitty Version:

Who needs "Because he took me away from you" when we have whatever the fuck this is?

Jason gets all upset. Kori sniffs Dick's costume and says she can't remember his name, but she has fond memories of the guy who used to wear it. There's a flashback of her and Dick and Roy in action together. Okay, so she clearly remembers Dick and Roy at least somewhat, which is probably Lobdell starting to walk back the controversial amnesia bullshit in the first issue.

Jason tells Kori his connection to Dick and asks if she's mad, which...even setting aside Kori's memory issues and general lack of grudge holding in any continuity, why would she be mad that Jason has the same mentor as a guy she remembers fondly? Anyway, she is indeed not mad and they hug it out. If this is supposed to be depicting Jason's smug "I've been with her" in the first issue, it...really doesn't read like they boned.

Jason's narration on the last page further obscures things:

"Friendship and romance are really the same thing. Anyway LET'S TALK ABOUT ROY HARPER." Okay I know that's me reading with ship goggles but it truly is a very funny transition.

So that's how Jason met Kori! She...pulled him out of the water, and they discussed how they both knew Dick. Definitely worth spending a whole issue on that very interesting story!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It's Complicated | It Doesn't Have To Be

Also, I do wonder if you'd ever consider writing a flashback or something, maybe for back when they were fighting, I assumed it'd probably be similar to what we've seen between Roman and Janus in Code Words Or maybe before Logan got his memory back, have Roman be the soft one for once /lh – flag emoji anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: none

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 2682

Sometimes Roman wakes up and Logan is gone.

He rolls over in bed—and believe him, he's still reckoning with the fact that he sleeps next to the person who once tried to cut his arm off without any sort of anesthetic—and feels for the warmth, only to blink when his fingers meet nothing but cold sheets. He pushes himself up, comforter falling off his shoulders, and stares at the empty spot.

The first time it happened, he's not too proud to admit he panicked. He whipped himself into a frenzy scouring the apartment for any sign Logan might have left, anything he might have left, anything he might have taken, only to tear at his hair when he realized there was nothing short of combing through the city to figure out where he might be. He'd been just about ready to suit up and do just that when the door knob turned and Logan reappeared, looking as though he hadn't slept all night but very much alive.

His first thought had been to nearly tackle Logan to the floor in an oh-my-God-you're-okay hug. His second thought had been to smack him upside the head and scold him for disappearing without saying anything, you asshole, how was I supposed to know you were okay?

Logan had laughed tiredly and let Roman help them both up off the floor, but refused to explain himself. Only after Roman plied him with the good tea and a warm shower had he murmured something along the lines of clearing my head.

That was a load of bullshit, if you asked Roman. He's been in the masked-and-caped-freaks business long enough to recognize trauma and unorthodox coping mechanisms when he sees them. But he also knows that pushing someone to talk about that sort of stuff when they're not ready for it is a surefire way to get yourself kicked off the 'this person makes me feel safe' list, so he doesn't do that.

Now, when he wakes up and Logan's not there, he sighs, dragging himself from the warmth of his bed without abandoning the comforter and schlepping to the living room. He fumbles in the half-dark to get the kettle going, taking first the giant blue mug and then the normal-sized red one down from the cupboard. The floorboards creak and groan in protest when he goes to settle by the window, leaning his weight against the meager sill to peer into the gray street. The streetlights are still on, even as the sun rises, a thick bank of clouds rolling through the buildings. The air is chillier here by the glass, just enough to make his nose twitch. He rubs it half-heartedly with the corner of the blanket.

The kettle clicks off and he gets back up, shuffling to the other cupboard for the tea bags and honey. He's just getting ready to pour the water when the door clicks and Logan comes through.

"Hey," he mumbles, voice a little rough from sleep, watching Logan's head jerk towards him, "you want tea?"

Logan jerks his head in a short, sharp nod. He puts the mug on the other end of the counter and fills his own, cupping it between his palms and shuffling to the couch. He sits on one side, gathering the blanket around his legs, and waits.

After a long moment, the door's lock turns and Logan's quiet steps make their way over to the counter. He picks up the mug and settles uneasily on the other side of the couch. Roman hums low in his throat and lets his eyes fall closed, enjoying the way the steam wafts up and around his nose and cheeks. He takes a sip and immediately regrets it when he burns his tongue. He thinks he can hear Logan chuckle at his displeased expression. He tries again a few minutes later and manages not to groan at the sweet relief of the honey.

"You look exhausted," comes Logan's voice, tinged with regret.

"It's the cold. Makes me all sleepy."

"You should go back to bed, then. It's warm in there."

Roman flaps an arm under the comforter. "I got a blanket. I got my tea. I got my Logan. I'm all good here."

Logan laughs again, a little strained. Roman wrenches himself back from the alluring embrace of the warm tea, setting it on the coffee table and turning to face Logan. He rests his chin on the back of the couch and just looks at him. It's a position that's never failed to coax a smile to Logan's face, something about him looking like a child begging to stay up just a little bit longer to watch TV with his parents after he's supposed to be in bed. It doesn't fail now; he can see the corners of Logan's mouth lifting even when he tries to hide it behind his cup of tea.

"You're not exactly helping your case here."

"But I'm not tired," he whines, dragging the vowels out. "C'mon, Logan, don't you wanna come sit with me?"

"I am sitting with you, you pest."

"'M I a fly?"

"Are you a what?"

"Am I a fly? Is that what kind of pest I am? Or am I a mosquito? I don't wanna be a mosquito. They bite people."

Logan laughs again, the sound growing looser, deeper, a bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "I believe only the female mosquito of most species is the one that feeds on blood."

"Oh. Then what do I eat?"

"If you were a male mosquito, I think you'd ingest tree sap."

"Like syrup? I get to just eat maple syrup all day?"

"Roman, tree sap is not just maple syrup and you know that."

"That's actually probably a good thing. I don't think I'd like eating stuff that sweet all the time." He wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I don't wanna be a mosquito."

"You're not a mosquito," Logan says softly. "You're not a pest. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"'S okay, Logan, I know you didn't say it to be mean. I can be pesky." Just to prove his point, he starts lightly thwacking Logan's closer knee with the corner of the blanket until he rolls his eyes and reaches out to stop him. "See?"

"You proving my point in an effort to make me feel better isn't doing you the favors you believe it is."

"But I'm agreeing with you! You love when I agree with you."

"I love when you see that I'm right, not when you just blindly agree with me."

"What if it's both? You said both is everyone's favorite flavor." He grins, big and goofy, and it makes Logan chuckle into his tea. "Or do you still prefer Earl Grey?"

"It is the superior blend of tea."

"Okay, Captain Picard."

Logan shakes his head. "It still stuns me that you understand that reference."

"Hey! I watch things! Plus, I don't know how you can get to be as old as we are and watch no Star Trek. There's literally so much Star Trek. It's unlawful to not know any of it at all."

"Even if the only thing someone knows is the 2009 movies?"

"Look, Star Trek is Star Trek. I'll take it."

Logan looks at him then, for the first time. Really looks at him, eye contact and everything. His expression is still shuttered, but as Roman grins at him, he can see the ice in those normally cold eyes beginning to melt away slowly. "I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised."

"About what?"

"About you being passionate about a franchise that inspires optimism and hope even in the darkest of times."

"Aw, Logan, you're so sweet."

Logan splutters. "I am not!"

"You are," Roman sings, leaning forward a little, "you're a big old gummy bear, all squishy and soft."

"Alright, if you're comparing me to candy, then you definitely need to go back to sleep."

"Or I could finish my tea, you can finish yours, we can watch something while we do that, you can take a warm shower, and then you could come back to bed with me."

There's a pause. Then a tired sigh that he knows is mostly for show as Logan sits back on the couch. "Alright, then. But I get to pick."

"Sure!"

And as Roman bounds up with far more energy than someone who was pouting on the edge of the couch a moment ago, he can hear Logan's soft grumble and when he glances over his shoulder, he's being stared at with narrowed eyes.

"You tricked me," he accuses without any real heat.

"Uh huh. And you're tired enough that it worked, so you just sit there and drink your tea and I'll be right back."

Logan pouts for a few seconds—he absolutely pouts, don't let him tell you otherwise—before Roman's sitting back down and he's reaching out to yank part of the blanket towards him, mumbling something about Roman learning how to share from disgruntled kindergartners. Roman just lets him, scooting closer and wrapping half of the comforter over Logan's shoulders, careful to keep it out of his tea. He has to take a moment there, just to look at him, all soft and bundled up on the couch with his glasses fogging up slightly from the steam and a faraway look in his eyes.

"Hey," he murmurs, waiting for Logan to look at him, "are you okay? Really?"

Logan doesn't move for a few seconds. When he does, it's to shake his head. It's a tiny thing, something Roman wouldn't even have noticed if he hadn't been playing attention for that very thing, but he sees it and he nods and he sits back down, handing Logan the remote. Logan clicks through their catalog until he gets to Mythbusters and Roman grins.

"Which episode?"

"Would you be averse to the one about idioms?"

"No, I love that one. Let's do it."

The familiar intro plays as they settle back into the couch. Roman's hands drift from the mug of tea down into the folds of the blanket, carefully feeling for the part of the couch cushion that begins to dip under Logan's weight. No matter how many times they do this part, the two of them being domestic in a way that they shouldn't do, should never have gotten to do, it doesn't completely erase the fear that this is all just temporary. That at some point, The Mastermind will decide it's time for a comeback and Roman will wake up in a pool of his own blood. Or he won't wake up at all.

But it's that same fear that drives Logan from the safety of their bed on these nights, and the same one that feeds Roman's other fear that he'll lose Logan entirely, one way or another. And so he has to feel for that dip in the cushions, just to remind himself that Logan's here.

He's still here.

About halfway through the episode, there's a hand carefully covering his, warm from holding a cup of tea, callused from years of wielding weapons deadly enough to kill half the city many times over. During a particularly loud exclamation, that hand brings his up to a pair of slightly chapped lips for a kiss.

"Thank you," Logan whispers, and Roman smiles.

"I'm here," he says, "I'm gonna be here as long as you let me."

"Will you come to bed?"

"Now?"

"Mm. I'm tired."

Roman turns off the TV, taking both their mugs and putting them aside, holding both corners of the comforter out like a cape and wrapping Logan up in the soft blanket. He makes a noise of surprise as Roman begins to waddle them through the apartment like that, laughing in disbelief as they collapse to the mattress with a thwump.

"I still have to shower, you menace," he murmurs with a kiss to Roman's temple.

"Alright, but hurry up. It's cold in here without you."

"I'll be quick."

Roman settles back in bed, fixing the sheets and the comforter and crawling under them as the water in the bathroom starts to run. He settles on Logan's side of the bed, face down, cheek on Logan's pillow as he watches the light under the bathroom door. A shadow passes back and forth a few times. The smell of Logan's shampoo tickles the end of his nose, more memory than anything else, but in a few minutes it won't be and the thought of it brings a sleepy smile to his face.

The light clicks off and the door opens, Logan pausing with his adorably rumpled hair as he sees when Roman is.

"That's my side of the bed."

"Mhm. Warmed it up for you."

"How thoughtful," he says as Roman rolls back to his side, wincing a little at the cold of the sheets. Logan slips under the covers, holding out his arms, and Roman gladly cuddles back up to him. "How is it that I'm the one who just got out of a hot shower and you're the warmer of the two of us?"

"Magic."

"I see."

Roman can't help but tug them a little more into the center of the bed, fussing with the sheets, the blanket, the pillows. Logan watches him with an indulgent smile, chuckling when Roman prods him into not lying on top of the sheets and tucking him in like a child.

"You take such good care of me."

"You deserve to be taken care of."

"Do I?"

At the soft and vulnerable note in his voice, Roman lies back down, taking Logan's cheek in his hand. "Yeah, Logan, you do. I like taking care of you. It makes me happy."

"I don't understand you sometimes."

"I don't understand you sometimes. That's okay. We don't have to understand each other all the time."

Logan's mouth works into a thin line. Roman cards his fingers through his hair, waiting for him to sort through his words. Eventually, he sighs, warm breath puffing over Roman's wrist. "I don't know how to reconcile the fact that I want desperately to keep this with how little I feel I deserve it."

The words send a familiar pang through Roman's chest. He struggles with it too, especially on the nights when his nightmares end with the very same voice murmuring gentle comforts in his ears. But they can only be what they are, nothing more or less, and so he pulls Logan closer to kiss his forehead.

"It's not about deserve, remember?"

"Yes, yes, I remember. But Roman—"

"No, don't go down that road without me. I just got you back."

"I suppose you did." Logan's fingers come up to curl around his wrist, feeling for his pulse. "You have no idea how hard it was to remember that you wouldn't be angry with me for leaving."

"I get it. I just ask that you—"

"That I come back, I know." He tilts his head slightly and presses a chaste kiss to Roman's lips. "I did, didn't I?"

"You did. And that's all I can ask from you."

Logan smiles, then, a sleepy soft thing. "You're wonderful, do you know that?"

"Alright, sap, off to sleep with you."

"Not until you admit how wonderful you are."

"Logan…"

"Admit it," he teases, hands finding the sensitive points on his sides and ribs and poking until Roman yelps, "go on, admit that you're wonderful."

"Okay, okay! I'm wonderful, I'm wonderful!"

"See, now was that so hard?"

"Shut up and go to sleep, Logan."

Logan chuckles and kisses him again, another whispered thank-you breathed against his cheek. The scent of his shampoo lingers around their heads and Roman smiles.

[lazycats-stuff]

Jason Todd x male!reader

This is the continuation to the Joker!son reader. It seems that people have liked it and want a part two, so I will get to writing. It may be a bit short, but I just wanted to write something.

Summary: It's been a week since the night in the club and Jason is confused. It seems that fate has different plans when he bumps into (Y/N).

Warnings: Jason having an existential crisis, Jason being confused about his feelings.

It has been a week since that night in the club and Jason was a mess. He refused to leave his apartment, simply burrowing himself into his bed, refusing to talk to anybody. His brothers have called and even Bruce, but he refused to talk to them.

He needs time to think about what happened at the club. He really doesn't know what happened at the club. He thought about all the possibilities that could have gone done. Was he drugged? Was the alcohol too strong and he was lightweight? No...

He groaned once he heard somebody unlocking the front door. He took his gun from the nightstand and moved into the living room, ready to shoot his brothers or father. He makes no difference between them.

It was all of them apparently.

" Why are you here? " Jason asked, lowering his gun down.

" We are worried about you Jay. " Dick started.

Jason could tell that this was rehearsed. He was going to throw them out.

" Huh. "

" You have been acting weird for a week, you haven't been out in like a week. " Dick started once more.

" And? " Jason asked, putting the gun on the table, moving to the kitchen to get some water.

" And I'm worried. You have been withdrawn, you don't talk to anybody, you didn't go on patrol and you are simply... I don't know, I have never seen you like this. " Bruce said, looking Jason straight in the eyes.

" There is nothing to be worried about. I'm fine. "

" Jason... " Bruce started, taking a tone of voice that made it known he won't hear anymore bullshit.

" If I tell you, you will be mad. You might blow a fuse. "

" Jason, I won't be. "

" Then sit down. You will need it. "

Everyone sat down on the couch. Jason took a quick breath and then started.

" So, a week ago I went to a club. I saw (Y/N), Joker's son... " He stopped here, watching their reactions. Curiosity, interest... Okay.

" And... I kissed him. "

" WHAT?! " And there it was. Bruce was the only one who was quiet, trying to process the information he got from Jason. The brothers on the other hand were losing their shit. Firing question after question.

Jason was getting a headache.

" OKAY! " Bruce yelled, silencing the boys.

" Jason, " Bruce started gently, clearly shocked by the information, " Do you have any idea what drove you too him? "

" I don't. We simply met and... I think he ignited something in me, but nothing bad... I just... I don't know. "

" Okay... And you are sure you want to dabble into that territory? I mean, even if he doesn't have anything to do with the Joker, I don't want you to hurt yourself. " Bruce said to Jason.

" Do you want something more? " Dick asked. Jason chuckled at the question.

That was the question he was asking himself for the entire week. It was impossible for him to answer. On one hand, he wanted something more. Something normal in his crazy world. But on the other hand, Joker was still in his head and there were times where he couldn't sleep due to the flashbacks.

It was the question that would be answered when humans answer the meaning of life. Which is never...

" I don't know Dick. That's why I'm so torn. He is so... He is the opposite of the Joker, but on the other hand, I still remember Joker from time to time. "

Dick nodded, looking off.

" And that's why I'm in this predicament. " Jason said, crossing his arms across his chest.

The silence stretched through the living room. Nobody had an advice for Jason.

" Jason, I think you need to go for it. " Bruce said. Everyone turned to look at Bruce as if he grew a second head.

" None of us fall in love easily, especially not you. So, go for it. "

Jason looked at his adoptive father in shock. Bruce, out of all people is approving this? What the hell?

" So, if I were to pursue (Y/N), I could? "

" Yes. He has nothing to do with his father. "

Jason had to sit. He quietly said wow. Okay.

" Now, how do I apologize? Flowers? Chocolate? " He asked.

" Both. " Bruce answered.

Jason sighed. Great. Fricking great. He will need to be a sweet talker to do this.

Jason glanced at the bouquet in his hands. It was a bouquet of Hyacinths and in the other was chocolate. He smiled slightly at the familiar face who stepped out of the building. The said face was shocked.

" Jason? "

" Hey. "

(Y/N) looked at the bouquet and the chocolate. He put two and two together.

" Is this an apology for the last week? " (Y/N) asked Jason as he accepted the bouquet and chocolate.

" It is. I'm sorry for running out like that. It wasn't your fault by any means. "

" That's good to know. " (Y/N) said, bringing the flowers closer to sniff them.

" Fun fact, these are my favorite flowers. "

Jason was surprised. He looked into flowers that meant forgiveness, but didn't know it was (Y/N)'s favorite.

" Really? "

" Yup. You got lucky. " (Y/N) said.

" Good for me. I would like to make up to you. "

" Before you make your suggestion, l would like to ask you something. How did you know where I worked? "

Jason's brain short-circuited for a moment.

" You mentioned a shipping company that pays well. The only one in Gotham that fits the description is behind you. " Jason lied, shrugging his shoulder.

" Hm. " (Y/N) nodded, not knowing what to say.

" How about I take you out tonight for dinner? "

" Where? "

" I know a small place, not far from here. "

" Will tell me what made you run? "

" Maybe. " Jason said, smiling.

" I will take it. "

Jason smiled sincerely for the first time in a week.

" Here is my card. It has my number on it, so just text me when. " (Y/N) gave Jason the card, brushing his hand against Jason's.

" Will do. "

" See you later Jason. "

" See you. " Jason said, still smiling. Mission accomplished.

Now he just needs to get ready for the dinner.

[d3adlyromb3ar]

✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 4k

— contents. heavy child abuse, torture, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, suicidal ideation, dissociation, ptsd, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

— notes. italics are flashbacks 🤍

series masterlist | previous chapter

✰ chapter three. no point in forgetting

June 10th, 1999

The wood traced her exposed back, the end trailing down her spine. Her hands gripped the bars tightly in front of her— palms squeezing the cold metal so tightly it threatened to burst.

I know it’s in there somewhere.

The bad man had said. Tsking in disappointment as she had failed yet again in perfecting her rising technique.

She had just discovered the mere sensation and instincts of something new— yet the bad man had demanded she perfected the ability. It seemed unfair, but she also knew that she failed.

Again and again the bad man forced her to focus and tried desperately to pull the technique out of her. Unbeknownst to him, it just didn’t work that way.

Quit holding back, it’s only gonna make things worse for you girl.

The bad man would taunt, every threat causing goosebumps to cover her flesh.

It didn’t matter. No amount of screaming, training or torture would bring it out. But in the man’s eyes, she failed— and she deserved to be punished.

The wood leaving her skin brought her back to reality, remembering her position and how badly she wished to escape from this situation.

“How many hours of failure today?” The bad man spit, his eyes glaring into the untouched skin of her back.

She forced her lip to stop quivering, needing herself to answer strongly.

“14.” She whispered, voice still weak.

The man leaned down and swept her hair off her neck, his lips dangerously close to her ear as he hissed his next words.

“Then that’s how many you’ll get.”

The words were enough to bring tears to her eyes, shivering in disgust as his voice almost sounded excited to inflict such damage. She couldn’t find it in herself to be ashamed of her state, she wailed and screamed— but not once did she let go of the bars. Staying completely still.

She felt his presence leave her, and knew that the little shuffling sounds indicated he was pulling back the stake. Her body could only tense up as she prepared herself for hell.

“I’m very disappointed in you Miss Dair.”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。

“I’m very disappointed in you Miss Dair.”

Yaga’s voice boomed. Although he was speaking at a normal frequency— she couldn’t help but wince as the words rolled out.

“I thought I could count on you to be honest with me. With your classmates…” He paused and looked at her more intensely, “With your friends.”

Moon narrowed her gaze slightly at him, knowing he was trying to get some kind of reaction— but she had none. She knew he had the right to be upset, as she was upset with herself just as equally.

“It’s important you inform me of details so severe as your life. You do realize not to take your 9 lives for granted, yes?” He questioned, more like interrogated.

Moon’s eye twitched.

“Yes sir, I understand.” She replied almost robotically.

Yaga wasn’t have any of it though.

“No, you don’t understand. That’s the issue I’ve realized,” He stated bluntly, “You don’t value your life, and it saddens me.”

Moon’s jaw dropped and she went silent for a few moments. Watching Yaga lean back in his seat and cross his arms.

It was her turn to lean forward.

“Principal Yaga, I do value my lif—”

“We can cut the bullshit.” He interrupted harshly. “Really Miss Dair? Do I look like someone you should lie to right now?”

Moon clenched her jaw, her nose burning with a familiar sensation that tears were threatening to come.

“With all due respect sir, I didn’t intend on dying. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.” She voiced lowly, not even believing herself.

Yaga scoffed and shook his head, but he wasn’t trying to seem rude. He was worried deep down and extremely disappointed in this change in his student.

His silence gave Moon time to overthink, and she couldn’t stop herself from speaking.

“Do you… do you think I meant to die?” She asked, wondering just what it was he was thinking.

Yaga adjusted his glasses, before leaning his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t think you did, I just think you don’t care that you did.” He told her.

She found herself stuck in a tough spot. Her body wanted to escape, to run away and hide from the truth that was being spat at her. Another part of her realized just how right Principal Yaga was.

The principal watched as Moon was left speechless, fiddling with her fingers in her lap anxiously— as she couldn’t come up with anything.

It only saddened him more. A part of him wishing that it wasn’t the case.

“What’s going on?” He asked her, his voice softer than earlier.

Moon didn’t know why she felt like she could talk openly with him. It wasn’t like her to express herself— at least not anymore. Although, it was hard to forget what Yaga had done for her, and maybe that’s what forced her to talk to him.

Yaga had saved her from the horrid clutches of the Zenin Clan, to which now she felt like she owed it to Yaga to at the very least— talk with him. He deserved that, and of course so much more.

Moon took a deep breath, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

“I never asked for this life.” She whispered, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

But he did.

“I know you didn’t.” He agreed gently.

“So you understand.” She assumed.

“Understand what? That getting yourself killed is supposed to be okay?” He spoke, voice rising but still trying to remain calm.

Moon sighed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“No— I…” She trailed off, “You know what… forget it.” She had more words to say but held herself back from voicing them.

Yaga narrowed his eyes.

“Moon,” The principal started, grabbing her attention seeing as he rarely called her by her first name. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and whether or not you ever fully open up to me about what exactly they did to you. I know they hurt you. In ways I’ll probably never understand.”

The burning sensation within her nose grew stronger from his words.

“But everything they did to you, everything that happened— you deserve to live a happy life.” He told her, wishing so badly that she could believe the words he said tonight.

“You’ve told me this before.” She whispered, her gaze focused on the floor.

“Because it’s true, and I need you to believe it.” He pushed, his voice softer again.

She shook her head, her vision blurry with tears— but she’d be damned to let them fall.

“Life has been cruel to you, but it doesn’t have to be anymore.” He told her, “I want you to live and be happy, because it’s what you deserve.”

She stood up from her spot and turned away from him, not walking away— but she couldn’t allow him to see the tear that managed to slip down her cheek. She wiped it away, before facing him again. This time she stayed standing.

“It’s difficult to live a happy life when I’m stuck doing something I don’t want to do.” She spoke carefully, turning defensive from his kind words.

“You’ve never been forced to do anything here.” He stated calmly.

“Then let me leave.” She argued.

“No ones stopping you.”

She felt her tongue become led in her mouth, swallowing as yet again— she was left speechless. It was cruel in a way that Yaga was always right, and he was.

Not once was Moon ever forced to go to school here. Not once was she forced to fight, to spar, to train. Not once was she forced to exorcize curses— it was all her choice. Yaga made sure of that.

He also knew that deep down under that facade of the girl she presented, the one who wishes to run away— to hide. He knew she was still a good person, someone who couldn’t walk away from the opportunity to help people. To save people.

He knew she was more at a battle with herself than anyone else.

“If that’s all sir, I’d like to be excused.” She muttered quietly, clearly finished with the conversation.

He let out a breath, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy to convince her of all he said today.

“One more thing and then you may leave.” He stated and she looked up to him, “There is an upcoming mission, one where you will work with your classmates. It’s important and I suggest you screw your head on straight before you take it on.”

She nodded in understanding.

“More information about said mission will be provided tomorrow. I suggest you relax today, get lots of rest.” He recommended sternly.

Something about his words made it sound like she was going to need her rest for this mission. At that, she became intrigued with what this mission was exactly. Time would tell.

“You can leave now.” He said lastly, his attention back in front of him.

Moon bowed her head lazily, making her way out of the room. She had a lot of thinking to do— a lot of reflecting. Yaga’s words weren’t said to deaf ears, and now they swirled around her mind.

I want you to live and be happy, because it’s what you deserve.

Those words specifically echoed throughout her head, the kind sentence causing her to scoff.

What did I deserve?

She wondered bitterly.

The school grounds were quiet and calm today. Usually the ambience of people wandering about, the different conversations being held— it was comforting. But the silence wasn’t unwelcome, and it seemed rather peaceful.

The dark haired girl made her way down the steps of the school, when a familiar voice caught her attention.

“Well well, look who it is.” The white haired sorcerer acknowledged from his spot under a tree— relaxing in the shade.

Moon glanced at Shoko and Geto to his right before meeting his eyes through his glasses.

“Hope we weren’t missing out on important information about our upcoming mission just now.” Geto teased.

Moon wished to of gone back to her room to rest, but couldn’t think of an excuse to leave them now that they spotted her. Plus, she wanted to see them.

She shook her head, walking over to the trio.

“Nah, just Yaga being… well… himself.” She mumbled.

Geto snorted, always finding Moon and the Principal’s relationship silly. He knew that Yaga had taken you in when you were young, but he didn’t know any further than that.

“Don’t disrespect the man.” Gojo commented.

Moon turned towards him, giving him a glare. Shoko chuckled at her reaction, her cigarette resting in between her fingers as she observed her friends.

“C’mon Satoru, be nice.” Shoko warned.

Gojo looked around dramatically, lifting his hands up in the air. The whole act only causing Moon to roll her eyes, even though deep down her lips threatened to curve.

“I didn’t even do anything!” He whined before locking eyes with Moon. “Right Nines, y’know I was just joking if anything.”

Even though she told him not to use that nickname anymore, she couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

“It’s fine.” She shrugged, taking a seat next to Geto.

Furthest away from Gojo, causing him to pout slightly. Unnoticed by everyone.

“So what do you think this big mission Yaga keeps mentioning is about?” Geto wondered.

Gojo sighed loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. Typical.

“Who knows, probably a small job.” He assumed.

“You think so?” Geto asked, and only received a shrug back.

Moon let her classmates voices turn into background noise as she got lost in her thoughts. She knew better than to be hanging around them, trying to steer clear of getting close with anyone. But every interaction, even the tiny ones that led up to this point— she clenched her jaw in defeat. Whether or not she wanted to believe it or not— she had already created bonds with these people.

She only felt one thing for herself: disappointment.

“…right Moon?” Geto’s voice suddenly registered.

She glanced to the three who were now staring at her, clearly waiting for her answer. It was evident that she hadn’t heard a thing they said.

“What’d you say?” She asked, a little embarrassed.

“I said given the choice pairing up with me or Satoru for the mission, you’d pick me right?” He asked again, a grin on his face.

Despite his concerns for his friends behavior.

Moon scoffed but had a playful grin.

“Oh yeah, no question.” She played along.

Gojo pushed his glasses back up to cover his eyes completely, rolling his eyes behind the black lenses.

Moon smiled wider at his reaction, lowering her gaze to the grass. Missing the way Gojo was staring at her lips.

It was easier to pretend nothing was wrong sometimes, these lighthearted moments almost convincing her to quit her efforts to keep them away completely.

Your friends worry about you. Yaga’s words from a previous conversation, echoed through her head.

It wouldn’t be wise to head into a mission with everyone’s heads in the wrong spot. Maybe she needed to do her part, and reassure the ones she was surrounded by. It wouldn’t matter if she didn’t believe any of the words she said— she just needed them to believe it.

“Hey,” She nudged Gojo’s leg with her foot, “Take a walk with me?”

His head had leaned forward again, allowing his blue eyes to peak over the tops of his shades. He studied your expression, making out one thing quickly— genuine.

“Sure Nines.”

The two promised to come back to Shoko and Geto.

As soon as they made it far enough, where soon it was just them two secluded— Gojo was the first to speak.

“Gotta say I’m a little surprised.”

Moon turned her head towards him, confusion washing over her features.

“Surprised?” She asked.

“Well yeah, you’re actually talking to me. Correction— you’re talking to me first. Without me starting the conversation, like I always do.”

“Okay, I get it.” She stopped him, the corners of her mouth turning up.

“So what’s with the sudden change— ya know not that I’m complaining or anything. Just curious.”

Moon walked with even steps, keeping up with his larger strides as they traveled deeper into the woods.

“Well, I needed to apologize to you.” She uttered quietly.

Gojo tilted his head slightly, confusion washing over his features this time. He kept his gaze on his feet in front of him.

“Apologize for what?”

Moon swallowed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. Or was it guilt?

“I’ve come to realize that I’ve been making you… unfocused.” She was careful with her wording. “I’m sorry for any stress I’ve been causing you, as for the others as well.”

Gojo stopped walking, causing her to stop and turn towards him as well. He didn’t know why her apology was ticking him off. Mainly because he didn’t see a good reason why she was apologizing in the first place.

“Making me unfocused?” He asked carefully, making sure he heard that right.

She nodded shamefully, the action making Gojo’s cheekbone twitch in irritation.

“Nines, you do realize that you shouldn’t be apologizing to me right now.” He surprised her.

“Wha— why not?”

“Because you just shouldn’t be.” He argued.

She was silent for a moment, gazing deeply into his shades— desperate to see his eyes. Knowing that it was the only way to depict how he was truly feeling.

“You have been so stressed out lately.”

“Yeah but that has nothing to do with you.” He lied.

Yes he was stressed, and yes maybe you were in a way the cause of it— but only because he worried about you too much.

“Listen Nines,” He took his glasses off, looking down to lock eyes with hers. “Anything that’s going on with me, isn’t your fault. So don’t start beating yourself up.”

“How can I not? With the mission coming up, I don’t need you to be distracted— and getting hurt because of it.”

He smirked slightly, unable to control himself.

“Weird, for a second there— it kinda sounded like you cared about me.”

Moon rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious Gojo.”

“And I’m serious Moon, you shouldn’t be apologizing.” He tried to convince her. “Plus, I’m not unfocused… if it’s anything, I’m just worried about you.”

She knew he was, but it was completely different hearing himself say those words.

“You don’t need to be worried about me, I’m fine.”

“That’s just the thing you don’t understand Nines,” He trailed off, taking a few steps closer to her. “I’m always gonna worry about you.”

His words had her shuttering, her chest warm with an unfamiliar sensation. She couldn’t confirm whether she enjoyed the feeling or felt indifferent about it.

“Why?”

He stepped closer again, and had to think of his words for a moment as the view from his perspective of her— distracted him. Her eyes were round and slightly glossy as she gazed up at him.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re important to me.”

She felt her chest tighten slightly, one of her hands lying over her heart. This wasn’t what she was hoping would come of this conversation. But she also knew that these talks were almost inevitable.

“Don’t seem so shocked. You know that I care about you.” He added, her silence irritating him.

She swallowed, needing a moment to clear her head.

“You shouldn’t. You need to focus on the mission.” Was all she came up with.

“I can do both. I’m a great multitasker.”

She huffed and let her eyes drop to the grass, focusing on the grass blades instead of his intense blue eyes— she found it hard to focus when she gazed into them.

“This is pointless…” She muttered under her breath, which Gojo didn’t miss.

“Ouch.”

“I’m serious, this isn’t some kind of game—”

“I am serious Moon,” He repeated himself, growing agitated, “God, why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you?”

She could only stare at him, coming up with nothing to say. She really found it hard to believe people cared about her. 

“I know I’m not the best at expressing emotions, but fuck— I hope that at least my friends can see that I care.” He huffed, turning away from her. 

She felt bad for making him frustrated, that wasn’t her intention— it never was. It seemed she was always causing him to be though. 

“You’re fine Gojo, I’m sorry. I don— I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

He turned back towards her, gazing into her eyes and taking in her shameful expression. 

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you?” He asked again.

She swayed in her spot and debated whether she should cloak and run away— it was always the first thing that came to mind when she was put in these situations. Although, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. Not when he sported this kicked puppy look— it had her feeling all that more guilty. 

“Moon.” He got her attention again, watching as she spaced out. He walked closer to her until there was a little space in between them. It had her craning her neck up to meet his eyes bravely. “Why?”

“I don’t know…” She whispered, her eyes dancing just below his eyes to watch the muscle in his cheek flex. “There’s something wrong with me.”

His gaze softened as he found her telling the truth. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you Nines.” He started and thought about the line he was dancing on, “You just need to be nicer to yourself.”

She scoffed and lowered her head, her stare on his shoes. 

“It’s not that I… I just feel like I don’t work right. Like… I don’t know.” She tried to explain, but grew frustrated when she couldn’t voice what she wanted. 

She felt slender fingers grab her chin gently, and tilted her head up so that she was looking back into his eyes. She couldn’t ignore the flipping sensation in her stomach from the gesture. 

“You’re not broken like some toy, Moon.” He tried to tell her.

“Maybe not physically but, it just feels like that. Like everything I went through with the Zenin Clan…” She rambled on, catching herself before she could say anymore. 

Gojo knew she was saved from the Zenin’s clutches— but he didn’t know of the details. Nobody did. The only person who knew a little more was Yaga, but even then he didn’t know everything. She had never uttered a word to anyone of her experience. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” He reassured her, noticing her nervous look. “But you can if you want.” 

She gazed into his eyes and found herself reliving the same exact sensation she got the very first time Gojo tried to… kiss her. She didn’t know why she felt it— especially when he wasn’t showing any signs of leaning closer to her. It was after a couple seconds stuck in her thoughts, when she realized she was the one who was moving towards him. 

She stopped herself instantly, swallowing harshly when she still felt his fingers on her chin. 

“I know deep down that people care about me. It’s just hard to truly understand that.” She answered his question, not going into her past. 

He let go of her chin, letting his hand slide down her arm as he grabbed her hand. 

When was he this touchy? She wondered. 

She didn’t stop him, or pull away as she let herself enjoy the comfort his touch brought. She’d usually stand a little farther away than necessary— keep her distance. But she was starved and let herself have this moment— this sliver of affection. If that’s what it was. 

“So deep down, you understand that I care about you right?” He asked, his eyes glancing back from one to the other. 

She’d never seen him look so— desperate. 

The question circled within her. Yes, she knew he cared. But no matter how much convincing to herself— she’d always have that doubt in the back of her mind. The one the Zenin’s damaged to a pulp. 

“Yeah, I do.” She told him, the words feeling bitter coming off her tongue. 

She watched his shoulders sag with a huge breath he had been holding in, and she didn’t know why the little act had her heart hurting. The fact that even in this gentle moment— she was still causing him pain. 

“Good.” Was all he found himself saying. 

He wasn’t sure if this version of his Moon would stick around— whether or not she would revert back to her isolated self. But he would appreciate her in any form she presented herself in— he was learning quickly that his sorcerer friend was right. 

Our Moon is very much there.

Geto’s words finally made sense as he realized that maybe things wouldn’t go back to the way they were— but he still had her. That was enough for him, and he’d stick by her until the end. Now only if he could voice those words to her. One day. 

He smiled at her and let go of her hand, despite him not wanting to— he didn’t want to overstep. 

“Come on, let's head back.” He told her, starting to walk back to Shoko and Geto.

Moon followed after him, her shoulders feeling a bit lighter— her mind feeling a little more at ease. She wondered why the sudden change in how she was feeling— but couldn’t care enough to complain. Her feet moved quickly, keeping up with his long strides. All while there was a small smile on her lips. 

Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. 

— ending notes. pls lmk what you think of this series so far, feedback always appreciated 🤍

[keepsmagnetoaway]

Marvel Team-Up 100 (December 1980)

Chris Claremont/Frank Miller & John Byrne

We've read a fair few issues of the long-running Marvel Team-Up and it's always an interesting time: now, for its 100th issue, we have the treat of it featuring X-Men (or, at least, X-Men-related characters) in both its main story and its back-up, both of which are striking and important stories.

In the first of them, the featured team-up is actually Spider-Man (yay!) and the Fantastic Four (boo!), but the story also introduces the silhouetted figure you can see here, initially seemingly as a villain.

If you're thinking "fuck, these layouts are good," then you're right: it's Frank Fucking Miller! We don't have time for Miller Discourse - I will literally never have time for Miller Discourse - but Miller here was at the beginning of his imperial phase, having just started drawind Daredevil and being on the point of taking over writing on it too, and his distinctively moody take on New York City is on display in this issue. This nightmare Deco tower, at a wildly expressionist angle, is purest Miller.

Anyway, I'm skipping over most of the action here because it's Reed Richards bullshit and I hate it, but I do want to talk about that mysterious new character: it's Karma, and she's got Issues.

A beautiful panel filled with politics: that's good comics, baby. It's important to say that there is also a fair amount of tone-deaf stuff about Asians in this issue - Karma's wider family feature and they're not exactly subtly depicted, especially the villainous members, who include Karma's evil twin brother.

And yet...this is 1980, the Vietnam War is a recent memory in the US, and along comes a complex, traumatized Vietnamese character, who evolves from villain to anti-hero to something like a full-on hero in the space of this single comic when - in a moment that's genuinely shocking, coming as it does in the middle of a fight in which Peter Parker and Ben Grimm seem to be competing to make the most wise-cracks - she kills and psychically absorbs her brother. This, I repeat, is our introduction to this character, her very first issue. Fucking hell.

And that's Karma! The story ends just after this, with her tentatively established as some kind of hero, but the reader is none the wiser about what's coming next for her: which was, as you probably know, an integration into the X-Men world and a gradual emergence as one of the most interesting and popular characters of that world (helped by the fact that she also eventually turns out to be gay, hell yeah). It's a hell of an introduction and a fascinatingly political story about the shadow of American imperialism, and it's then followed by this issue's back-up story, which is also powerfully political.

This is a Claremont/Byrne story, a little chaser after our farewell to him in the main book, and (despite the team behind it...) it's about Blackness. It's The One Where Storm and Black Panther Meet, And Also Apartheid South Africa Tries To Kill Ororo.

It's actually largely told, after the initial sequence, in a flashback to their first meeting, and I have tried and failed to work out how it's supposed to fit in with the backstory also depicted in the 2006 Storm series - I don't think they exactly line up, but the 2006 series does sort of reference and expand on this story, in particular by reusing Andreas 'The Bull' de Ruyter, the enjoyably repulsive Afrikaner villain.

In the present, it turns out, de Ruyter is still trying to kill them, and they get to defeat him all over again, and part ways in a bittersweet, ship-teasy moment (again, no idea how this fits into subsequent canon with them getting married and so forth, but, who cares).

This is a really remarkable issue, all told, and though it's all created by white men, and as ever there are some, shall we say, heavy-handed moments, but its use nevertheless of a Vietnamese heroine, her life ruined by American warfare, and of two Black heroes fighting an explicitly apartheid-supporting villain is pretty striking: on top of which, the art is outstanding. Great stuff! This is also the start of a run of half a dozen guest appearances and the like from this era that we're about to read, so let's hope the rest of them are this interesting.

[echowithpain]

Alright, it's been a bit since 911 has a done an episode following one storyline (with a few flashbacks) and holy shit they deliver every time.

The first 10/10 episode of the season!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Seeing Bobby's backstory with how he grew up/what his family was like... I... genuinely have no words.

I do, however, have words about the main story with Bobby trying to talk to Amir.

One of those words being "incredible". I was so invested in the absolute cinema that, you guys saw, I was barely commenting I was so engrossed. Just taking it all in.

(Again, fuck the promo for making it seem like Amir was gonna go psycho crazy on Bobby with repressed anger. I know the promos are made to get you excited about the next episode, but they could've just had Amir's speech at the AA meeting and Bobby going out to the desert and asking about Amir. But whatever, I'm not on the promo team)

One thing I can point out that I absolutely loved was when Amir told Bobby the reason he spoke up was because he was sizing him up, trying to see how someone who was responsible for so much loss and pain was able to carry on. "Pretty damn easy it seems." Bobby says "that's not actually true" but as Amir goes on about how Bobby was talking about how blessed he's been and how he doesn't want Bobby's apologies or any of his ways to make amends, Bobby doesn't jump in at any time and try to correct him about his own struggles.

He doesn't bring up how he lost his family, how he went even deeper into alcoholism, or how he had a book where he would write down the names of 148 people he saved as a way to make up for the 148 ones who died because of the fire he caused, and that once the book was filled he was gonna kill himself.

People are allowed to be angry. If you screwed up something in someone's life, intentionally or not, and they are angry at you for that, trying to put your perspective in how things went or trying to tell them how you've changed as a person since then is a fucking terrible thing to do because then you'd be invalidating their feelings and making it about you.

None of that.

He let Amir speak his mind and tell him his pain, even if he didn't know the whole story. If Bobby tried to correct him or interject about the fact that he actually suffered greatly, it would've felt like he was trying to make what Amir was saying seem almost irrelevant because "you're wrong, I was hurt by my actions too and I'm still trying to get over it just like you".

There are some people in this world who will never forgive you for some of the things you've done, whether it's genuine wrongdoings or petty bullshit. If you try to insert yourself into their life, just to bring up how wrong they are about you because you've changed/they don't have the full story or how they're being childish and need to just forgive you already, you're being an asshole.

Even when Bobby and Amir are in the hospital after everything's said and done and Bobby talks to him one more time, Amir even says "Please tell me you're not gonna keep coming back here until I forgive you because that's not-" before he gets cut off by Bobby saying he doesn't expect his forgiveness. Thank fuck.

Bobby just lets him know that he's heard him and he acknowledges the pain he's caused him. And while he does bring up he didn't just walk away from the fire, instead of taking that time to express his own loss and pain, Bobby just tells him that he's carried it with him every day and night since and that he knows there's nothing he can do to erase all the pain he's caused to Amir and the other families. He even proves that he's carried it with him by giving Amir his wife's info, including which number she was on the list of people who died in the fire. He doesn't make it about him, he keeps focus on the feelings of Amir and the others he's hurt, and I'm so thankful for that. Amir may never want to see Bobby again after this, and that's okay!

That is one thing I've gotten sick of seeing in cartoons/movies/tv shows/etc. The whole forcing forgiveness trope thing is so overdone and unnecessary. The amount of times I've seen people or characters doing the most horrendous stuff only to be forgiven by the people they've hurt because of "forgive and forget" and "letting go of the anger in their hearts so they can move on" is absolute bullshit. Or someone would've done something in their past and as a different person in the present, they go out of their way to track down the people they've hurt and won't leave them alone until they can see just how much they've changed as a person and eventually decide to forgive them.

Fuck off.

I was a bit worried at the beginning that that's where 911 was taking the story, but they didn't and I'm so fucking glad. They had their talk and while he didn't have to say anything, Amir tells Bobby that he became a nurse so he can do for others what he couldn't do the night of the fire and that's saving his wife. That's the last thing we hear from him. He could later tell Bobby he never wants to see him again, to get out of his life, or even to go fuck himself. We don't get full confirmation if he actually forgives him or not after their second talk, and you know what? I didn't mind that one bit.

If you've wronged someone and try to make amends for what you've done, no matter how big or small, but they never want to see you again, leave them be. If you've wronged someone and try to make amends, but they don't want to listen to you and instead decide to spend their life constantly reminding you of what you did and harassing you about it to make you feel bad, block them on social media and get a restraining order.

It's that simple.

(btw if we go into the next episode and Bobby is constantly checking up on Amir but Amir didn't forgive him or it turns out Amir is the one who set the grill(?) on fire outside of Bobby and Athena's place as a way to "get back at him" then I'm disregarding everything I'm saying about this episode and the score will plummet from a 10/10 to a 2/10. 911 I've got my eye on you.)

[recurring-polynya]

Okay, I am back, and by back, I mean 'ready to recap more of 2005 Bleach OAV The Sealed Sword Frenzy. (Part 1 is here)

When I left off, Renji was on the ground with a knife sticking out of him, and Ichigo was about to face down the baddie. His name is Baishin. I never gave you a picture of him, but here he is:

Kinda DILFy. Covered in knives.

Ichigo tries to fight him, and even though Number One is playing, it doesn't go too good. Baishin stops Zangetsu with one bare hand and then steps on Ichigo and grunts "I am a knife", which he also said earlier when he set all those shinigami on fire, so I think that might be important.

Here's another one for my collection of "Rukia and Renji try to attack someone in synch and get trashed for their trouble":

At first, I was wondering if Renji had Zabimaru again, but no, that's just the shotgun. Maybe Renji was gonna hit him with it? Maybe he forgot and thought it was Zabimaru for a second there, too? Maybe the shotgun is Zabimaru's gigai? This is going nowhere good. Let's move on.

[9:07] At this point, I don't know what I expected, but it was not Captain Hitsugaya to make a fucking sweet entrance, and yet that is exactly what happens.

Baishin dodges his first attack and decides to nope out through some sort of smoky portal, summoning a bunch of Hollows as he goes. Hitsugaya suggests they all get out of there, as well.

Hitsugaya somehow always shows up in these things and sighs deeply and gets his ass kicked a bunch, but I gotta admit, he comes of looking pretty cool in Sealed Sword Frenzy! Maybe it's because he left Matsumoto at home?

[10:37] What kind of Bleach ancillary media would this be if we didn't go the Urahara Shouten for some exposition?

Hitsugaya gives us this beautiful explanation over lovingly desaturated flashback-vision.

Who the hell are these randos???

Hitsugaya what

Okay okay, I joke, but this is Grade A, secret-act-that-was-never-recorded, Gotei-13 bullshit, which, as you all know, is my favorite thing in the entire world. We've got five captains here, none of whom we've ever seen before (although that one guy looks kinda like if Captain Amagai and Ashidou, Rukia's Forest-of-Menos hookup had a baby). Two of them died, plus a whole mess of vice-captains. They just sealed a dude in a mountain in the Living World and left him there. The head captain is nowhere to be seen. This is literally on the order of the Hollowification event, but everyone probably forgot it until ten minutes ago when Hitsugaya had to look it up on the Gotei-wiki. This is some lore. This is some stakes. This is the standard by which every filler arc and movie should be judged.

Anyway, the temple from the beginning was there to keep him sealed, which obvs didn't work. Now they are on a special mission to re-seal Baishin or kill him. At this point, Rukia notes, "That explains why even Hanatarou was called out," to which I say, no, Rukia, it does not.

[11:59] The other thing that's obligatory in Bleach ancillary media is Ichigo and Renji being gay for each other, so now it's time for that.

They start arguing as an excuse to put their faces really, really close together, but Hitsugaya yells at them before they can start making out. Spoilsport. He reminds them that the town is being attacked by Hollows as they speak (oh....yeah...) and then it's revealed that Ichigo doesn't actually know who Hitsugaya is.

This is so delightful to me because it's correct, actually? Ichigo probably saw Hitsugaya in passing once or twice at the end of the Soul Society arc and got told his name and promptly forgot it. He calls Hitsugaya "little one" and Rukia and Renji yell at him for it, but if I were Ichigo, I would be more like "hey, I think we need to have a talk about child labor practices in Soul Society." (To which Rukia and Renji would likely respond "a) he's older than us and b) we were child soldiers and turned out fine" and then if I were Ichigo I would never listen to them again)

[14:04] Apropos of nothing, a senkaimon opens, and these goons step out, one at a time, like they're doing a celebrity guest star reveal. They admit that they brought Zaraki, too, and have somehow already managed to lose him.

I hope they've already planned which two of them they're gonna sacrifice to put Baishin back in the mountain (Soi Fon and Hitsugaya, or possibly Zaraki is my guess). Why is Yoruichi even here??? She doesn't even work for the Gotei anymore!! Or is she a 1099 now, and gets paid triple the civil servant rate? That would honestly explain a lot, actually.

I am now halfway through this thing, but I am pretty sure I can get through the rest in one post (and then one more for the ED), so I'm gonna call it here.

Update: Here's Part 3

[velvetvexations]

transmasc anon that sent the long ask about my abusive transfem ex forever ago —i fully admit that i’m a bit of a coward for not wanting to post on main, but i just wanted to say, inspired by yours and starryjoy’s posts about trans misogyny in the trans androphobia tag, that, to any transmascs in or adjacent to velvet nation: just because one or multiple transfems have hurt you, even when they have Really fucking hurt you, it’s not an excuse to be a transmisogynist.

like, i understand that sometimes when we’re in pain, we say things we don’t really mean because we’re not thinking clearly. i get it. sometimes i would go on angry, impassioned, and mean tirades in private because i would get horribly triggered by something and have flashbacks to my abuse. it’s my transmasc partner who called me out on my bullshit (kindly but also very directly) and made me come to my senses and admit that i was just being a fucking asshole, even if nobody else was there to see it.

and still, even with that, none of that made what i said okay. and i don’t actually feel that way, and it’s my HOPE that most of you don’t either. trans women as a group are not just “whoever abused you irl” or “whoever is mean to you online.” they’re just fucking people, just like everyone else. some are good and some are bad and most are a mix of both, just like everybody else on the earth.

sometimes you gotta walk the fuck away and calm yourself the fuck down before you post. and if you really do still think the awful shit you’re about to say, then you have to get your fucking head on straight, because trans women are not the enemy. and even the trans girl who’s been the fucking cruelest still you *still* does not deserve your transmisogyny. criticize her behavior and her attitude but you cannot chalk that up to her just being ontologically bad because she’s a transfem. that’s fucking stupid.

thank you, velvet, and starryjoy if she happens to see this, for doing all that you do for transmascs, and you should not have to deal with seeing transmisogyny from people you’re doing everything to protect on this hellsite. my gratitude to you knows no bounds. you’ll always have my love and support, and i’m doing everything i can in my real life to make the world a better place for all trans people - doesn’t matter if they hurt me. we *all* deserve a kinder world, and we should start with each other.

I really do appreciate it, but I hope yall don't feel pressured by this. Not that I doubt your sincerity at all, but I don't want you to feel like you have leap to your feet every time to make amends for this kinna thing, you know? I love you all, we're good, I promise. But thank you for telling me anyway, and thank you for caring.