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whatsnewalycat · 10 months ago

Text

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next.

Channel 11: Nothing.

Channel 12: Zilch.

Channel 13: Nada.

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing.

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over.

Got enough for the kids? Over.

And leftovers. Over.

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out.

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in.

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription.

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages.

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board.

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.”

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew.

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.”

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed.

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date.

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight.

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button.

“Radio check.”

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side.

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks.

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.”

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.”

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.”

“Cloudy. Over.”

Fuck.

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues.

“Anything new with you? Over.”

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation.

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.”

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings.

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business.

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs.

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl.

Your heart skips a beat.

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation.

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert.

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk.

Indecision churns in your belly.

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say.

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow.

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over.

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown.

The lights are on.

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room.

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?”

“N-nowhere.”

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?”

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod.

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

“Try again.”

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?”

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?”

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog.

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage.

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble.

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.”

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?”

You respond by rolling your eyes.

“Answer the question.”

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.”

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.”

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek.

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud.

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky.

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile.

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you.

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps.

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question.

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?”

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin.

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong.

You also understand that you like it.

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same.

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you.

“Wrong answer.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?”

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain.

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.”

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.”

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?”

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities.

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.”

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.”

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.”

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm.

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room.

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?”

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?”

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless.

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do.

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together.

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack.

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?”

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire.

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good.

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake.

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.”

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you.

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed.

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense.

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach.

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs.

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth.

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again.

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe.

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do.

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly.

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his.

For years and years, you ached for more.

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t.

But this is something.

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel.

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?”

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?”

“Not tonight.”

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?”

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter.

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?”

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure.

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.”

“He pulled out,” you shrug.

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.”

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt.

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?”

You shake your head.

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor.

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole.

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there.

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock.

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further.

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him.

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?”

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper.

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.”

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes.

“What’s that?”

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns.

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?”

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?”

In response, you glare at him.

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately.

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?”

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe.

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.”

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body.

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?”

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away.

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.”

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?”

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?”

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch.

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again.

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you.

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed.

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.”

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt.

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say.

“This stays between us, understand?”

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

“Good girl.”

[ NEXT PART ]

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acewardcullen · 2 years ago

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I posted 10,193 times in 2022

That's 4,836 more posts than 2021!

203 posts created (2%)

9,990 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@into-a-very-large-dog

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I tagged 2,766 of my posts in 2022

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#writing - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#that one time i was in england and place actually cooked their potatoes with salt and i got so happy after three weeks of unflavored food

My Top Posts in 2022:

I actually can't even explain why I like Twilight. I just do.

The vibes have an inexplicable and irrevocable hold on me.

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Volturi Valentines for part 3

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Bella and Emmett have a contest going on for who can be the most dramatic at their family members fake funerals.

It started when Emmett actually put eye drops in his eyes to fake some loud and gross sobbing into an embroidered handkerchief at Bella's first fake death in Forks and it has only escalated since then

754 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

So do you think the Riddler made/printed out all the actual cards and then wrote the ciphers in by hand or is there some card company in Gotham where an artist decided "Hey let's print some cards for secret admirers!" And nobody stopped to think they were creepy af and they, in fact, should absolutely not sell those.

964 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Happy Valentines Day Twilight fans

I made you these presents lol

See the full post

1,086 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Lol sorry England but potatoes need to be boiled with salt #Love how my one original post about the batman made it #also posts i made vs the reblogs #what can i say I'm here for moral support y'all

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 days ago

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Meet the Family 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm feeling very Little Lies about this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So this is the reason you missed Thanksgiving," a butter knife jabs in your direction as you poke at the white turkey meat; this? You look up then at Lloyd as he nearly chokes.

"Uh, yeah," he coughs behind his fist and swallows, "we were out of the country..."

"Yes, why would you bother to stay. No use in seeing your mother at the holidays, or the rest of your family," she reproaches.

"Mom," he groans.

"For ten years," William adds from his wife's side. "Now you show your face and you look as if you're eating rotten apples."

"No," Lloyd argues. "It's just... I'm busy and I don't get a lot of time away from work."

"We all have obligations," Gwenyth argues.

"Well, I took her away so I could propose," he explains as he presses his fork into the whipped potatoes. "And it worked out perfect, right? Cause now I can bring her to meet everyone."

Gwenyth hums flatly, "I suppose." She clicks her tongue and takes a healthy gulp of wine.

"So, Pixie," Lillian drawls from further down, "what do you do for work? Oh let me guess. A librarian?"

You don't let the suggestion bother you. You don't see it as an insult even if she says it like one. You shake your head.

"No, I--" you begin and Lloyd stomps your foot so you bite down on your voice.

"She is a corporate consultant. International corporation," he explains.

"Oh, wow, sounds busy," Gwenyth remarks.

"Yes, how will you have time for children?" Lillian challenges.

"I'm sure they'll find time to make them," Benson chortles over his snifter.

"Ben, please," William rebukes.

"We're focusing on the wedding before all that," Lloyd says.

You peer around as you chew your cheeks in frustration. You're annoyed by how they speak of you as if you're not even there, and so intimately. Yet, you don't have much to say for yourself. This whole facade is tiresome and you really don't care what they think about a made-up job. Or marriage, for that matter.

"That will be done with quickly," Gwenyth sniffs. "And she will need to quit that job if she wants to do her duty as your wife."

"I can handle a job and a husband," you blurt out.

The table quiets as if stunned that you can speak. You blink and Lloyd puts his fork down and touches your arm, "sweet pea--"

"I highly doubt you'd be marrying him for any other reason than that nest egg promised to him," Lillian scoffs. "You don't need to play a saint with us, darling. Marriage is a transaction in more ways than one; affection, money, sex--"

"Lilly," William warns and she laughs.

"Well?" She shrugs. "You do know, the wedding only guarantees a twenty percent payout. He needs an heir to get all of it." She pets her stomach smugly and smiles. "I can assure you it's well worth it. Once you meet Lorelai, you'll see."

"Oh? Maybe when you meet her, you'll consider being a mother too," Lloyd retorts.

"Excuse me?" Lillian snarls. "I love my daughter."

"Of course you so," he sneers. "I'm sure she feels all that love right now as she enjoys her turkey and carrots with the nanny."

"I can't have her around adults and alcohol. You can't possibly understand," she snaps. "And maybe it's better that you never do. I could never imagine you as a father, especially when you are such a child."

"Takes one to know one," Lloyd growls.

"Enough," William barks. "Both of you."

Ransom laughs loudly at the end of the table. Lloyd shifts and Lillian rolls her eyes. You sigh at your plate. You miss your family. For the first time in years, you truly miss them.

"What the hell are you laughing at, Hugh? The only reason you're here is because your grandpappy exiled you."

Linda gasps, "He's not exiled--"

"Oh, right, of course not, Lin, that's why you're here breaking bread with the peasants. That's what you called us at great grandmother's wake--"

"Lloyd, watch your mouth," William snarls. "Better yet, shut it."

Lloyd recoils in his chair and stiffens. His features sharpen then he lowers his chin and picks up his fork. His jaw is stone as he stirs the gravy into his potatoes. You wouldn't call him humbled, more whipped like a dog. These people make you feel something for him you never thought you could; sympathy.

"I don't care about money that much," you say. "It can't buy respect. Besides, I would never marry a man without a prenup. Whatever Lloyd has will remain his." You push your shoulders back as a yawn tickles in your throat. "At this point, he can keep you lot as well."

You stand up and take the cloth napkin from your lap. You fold it neatly, "Gwenyth, you can tell whoever cooked dinner that it was delicious. I appreciate you all having me but I'm going to go find a hotel and some peace." You step around the chair and push it into the table, "happy holidays."

You turn, your insides jittering. What are you doing? Where did that come from? You could say you're tired and not thinking straight, but honestly, you're just so repulsed by these people that your head could explode. They're lucky they only got a a few pieces of shrapnel.

You march out without looking back. Your cheeks tinge hotly with self-awareness. You've messed it all up. After years of harnessing your emotions under Hansen's thumb, you finally snapped. You blew it all.

"What she said," another chair scrapes as Lloyd speaks. "Mom, dad, good night."

You enter the hall and head for the entry way. You hear him beside you. You're still foggy with disbelief. It isn't until you sit to put on your boots that you notice Lloyd.

"I know, I'm done. Fired." You pull on your leather booties. "I'll take the severance and figure it out."

"I didn't say so," he says as he grabs a coat from the closet.

"Um..."

"You're completely right. We can't stay here. They're all a bunch of pricks and they wonder why I didn't come home for ten years," he pulls on his coat as he speaks. He pushes back his hair then smooths his mustache. "We're better off at the hotel. We'll sleep better there--"

"We? Lloyd, please. Stay with your family. I need space," you stand and reach past him for your jacket. "Besides, I booked a single queen and it's Christmas Eve."

"Queen's big enough. You're tiny--"

"Okay, no, no," you hiss. "It's not happening. Stay--"

"But I don't want to," he whines.

"Mr. Hansen," you say. "You're out of your mind."

"Well, after your blow up, I don't think I'm welcome," he puts his hand on his hip. "So this is your last chance to save your job. You made the mess, you clean it up."

"Me?" You exclaim.

He hushes you and step closer, "Pix, you already made a scene, let's not do the encore. I'm gonna grab my bags, alright?"

"You can't be serious." You say.

"Hey, I gotta play the loyal husband--"

"And why exactly is that necessary? Why couldn't you get one of those Tinder girls?"

"Woah, woah, come on, someone will hear you," he covers your mouth with his hand and you turn your face away with a blech. "Go warm up the car. We'll talk on the ride to the hotel."

You stare at him. He watches you, as uncertain as you've ever seen him. In the silence, you can hear the din in the other room.

"Always was such a baby," Lillian laughs venomously.

"He could've chosen someone without an iron spine," Gwenyth adds.

You grimace and throw your hands up, "fine, get your things."

"You're the best," he grabs your shoulders but before he can kiss you, you put your hand up to pinch his nose. He recoils and rubs the tip, "ow."

"No more of that," you say as you pull your keys out of your pocket. "Thank god I only had one glass of wine."

You stomp out the front door. The frigid winter air hits you like a bus. Once one even ground, the swirling snow flecks onto your shoulders and hair. Great, now you get to drive in the snow with an unwanted passenger.

You get in the driver seat and push the ignition. You turn on the heater and the heated seats. At least Hansen pays enough for the add-ons. Still, you’re not sure there’s any compensation equal to what you just went through.

You look over as the front door opens and closes. Lloyd rolls a giant suitcase with him, another smaller bag strapped on top, and a third in his other hand. You don’t move as you watch him descend the steps, easing the wheels over the edge one-by-one.

He comes down the long walk and jerks as his loafers slip on the icy pavement. It would be funny if you weren’t so damn exhausted. You steadies himself and continues on. You should get out and help him. You don’t.

You pop the trunk with the button. He loads in his bags as you check the rear view. He comes around the passenger side and pulls the door open. He lets out an obnoxious ‘brrrr’ as he drops into the seat next to you. You shift gears as he shuts the door.

“Ugh, I feel so much better getting out of there,” he says as he adjusts the seat, making room for his long legs.

“Why?”

“Um, why not? My family is the worst--”

“No, why did you drag me into this?” You ask as you lean into the wheel and squint over it. The dark, the snow, the unplowed roads, it’s like the universe can’t stop throwing you obstacles.

“You want the real answer or the nice answer?” He replies.

“Mr. Hansen,” you growl.

“Right, I had no other choice.”

“No other choice?” You repeat.

“Look, those long-legged beauties back home, they’re fun, but they don’t got much else going on. I needed someone who could play along,” he explains.

“Play along?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smart so--”

“I’m smart...”

“I wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t--”

“Jeez, wow, Mr. Hansen, thank you so much. You think I’m so smart, so you should know I’m smart enough to know better than to believe you. You think I’m desperate,” you turn slowly onto the next street. “You think I have nothing else going on.”

“No, that’s not--” he shifts in his seat.

“It’s exactly what you think,” you huff. “Well, I do. I have a flight in...” you pause and check the time on the dash, “five hours so when we get to the hotel, I’m going to sleep and you’re going to let me. Then I’m going to catch my flight and the curtain can be pulled on this whole theatre.”

“Your words, not mine. I don’t think you’re desperate.”

You don’t respond. You’re tired. He just can’t leave things alone. He always has to say something. You wonder if he was truly left to his own thoughts, if his head would combust.

“I’m actually impressed,” you says, “you held your own.”

“Sir,” you utter.

“It was good. Entertaining. I mean, all these years, you never once talked back to me but wow, that was... majestic, really. You didn’t even wait to see my mother’s face. Or my sister’s.”

“Your family is weird,” you blurt out. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t mean--”

“I mean, yeah, we probably are but I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” he says.

You nod. He has a point. Yet, while that horde of entitled brats might explain his personality, it can’t excuse it.

The hotel’s marquee shines like a beacon as you steer into the lot. You yawn and shut off the engine. You let yourself out and drag your feet around to the trunk. You take out your carry-on as Lloyd hovers at the other side.

“All of your stuff, out,” you say. “I’m going straight to the airport in the morning. Checkout is ten so as long your gone by then, I don’t care what you do.”

He’s quiet but he obeys. He takes his bags out and sets them on the ground. He pulls the rolling bag and slings his smallest bag on his shoulder. You snap the trunk shut and turn, shuffling across the icy tarmac.

You enter through the automatic doors and cross the desolate lobby. You check in with your ID but as you look for your credit card, Lloyd flicks his between his fingers and offers it up to the clerk.

“It’s on me,” he insists.

You won’t argue. You really don’t trust him to leave by checkout. As you head for the elevators, he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak until you’re behind the sliding doors of the compartment.

“You know, I’m still your boss so you can’t just order me around,” he says.

You glance over at him. “Right, won’t happen again, sir.”

“It could have been worse, you know? I could’ve actually had you come all the way out here just to drop off some gifts. If you think about it, you got a free dinner and some wine--”

“Yeah, it was a great time,” you say dryly. “Mr. Hansen, I’m too tired to lie any more. Tonight was one of the worst nights of my life so no, I don’t think it could be worse.”

The doors open and you stride out. You swipe the card at the door corresponding to the number written in the folio and let yourself in. He follows closely, nearly running over your heels with his suitcase.

You take your bag to the bed and take out the cotton pajamas stuffed inside just for tonight. You bring them with you into the bedroom, doing your best to ignore your guest. Lloyd wanders along the wall and finds his way to the mini fridge.

You’re in no rush to change, only to get to bed. You trade your dress and stockings for the cotton two-piece and emerge. You shove your bag and clothes beside the night table and slide under the blankets. You pull them up to your shoulders.

“They got wine, tequila, beer--”

“I’m going to sleep,” you insist.

“The alcohol will help.”

“No, it will make waking up even harder.”

“After tonight, I think you need a shot.”

“Mr. Hansen,” you grumble and cover your head.

“Fine, more for me.” He snickers.

You’re happy he can’t see the irritation on your face. You might just be better off to let him drink whatever. Eventually, he’ll have to pass out. At least, you can only hope he does.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #meet the family #the gray man

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aihoshiino · 24 days ago

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chapter 165 thoughts

Aqua Hoshigan Status: It's Officially Hoshinover

Chapters Until The Story Ends Without The 143 Kiss Being Addressed Or Acknowledged: 1

damn i guess they really did just kill his ass

I'm gonna be so real with you gamers, I kind of don't have a lot to say about this one either lol. Which I acknowledge sounds completely wild given the Everything that happens in it, but most of my meat and potatoes analysis in these reviews comes from breaking down characterization and we're flying through everything at such breakneck pace that we're barely getting any characterization.

It continues to drive me bugfuck insane that Ai is completely absent from this finale despite the importance of 15 Year Lie. Its imagery is plastered all over but whenever we return to it, we just see Aqua. Not only that, but Gotanda is the one who insists on pushing the movie through for Aqua. 15YL as a story about Ai's true self and her tragedy is now officially taking a backseat to being about Aqua's tragic death and legacy. It was already bad enough that we spent so much time in the Movie Arc not actually focusing on Ai to the extent that, as everyone pointed out, based on what we saw on-page it was basically a Sad Kamiki Movie, but this really is just pissing right in the wound at this point lmao.

The funeral scene also serves as the final nail in the coffin for any Secretly Alive Aqua copes, which is kind of a relief. I still don't like how Aqua's death played out, but I think dragging it out for four chapters then going "sorry you thought i was /srs when i was just /jk" would have been infinitely more insulting. I don't like this ending, but I can respect that Akasaka seems to be sticking to his guns on it, even if we still do have like a whole chapter left for him to whip around and go "I WAS /JK ALL ALONG!!!!" but I don't see it happening.

Anyway, yeah! The funeral! Uh. Is it gonna sound weird if I say I felt kind of like… grossed out reading this the first time? Like, I really don't know how else to explain the visceral "why the fuck is the author making me read this" reaction I had to it. I think it's just because Kana is so fucking distraught here and the drama is just so hammy and so over the top that it feels kind of… ech. I dunno. I just really didn't vibe.

It doesn't help that this is part of a much broader pattern in the back half of OnK of Aka getting us right up close into the gory details of a character's complete mental breakdown and suffering and then spend zero time or focus on their recovery. This happened with Ruby all over the Movie Arc and this many times and with this little runway to the end of the series, it just starts to feel exploitative, like a way to cheaply pull at our heartstrings without doing the work to build everyone back up after tearing them down.

also pre-emptively dreading all the fuel this is going to add to the fires of People Who Are Weird And Misogynistic About Kana but she could die saving innocent children from a burning building and people would find reasons to be shitty about her lmao

we really are not seeing ruby's reaction to finding out her brother was dead huh lol

I will say the one thing I didn't Actively Dislike about this chapter was Ruby, though. I was honestly starting to get pretty skeeved out with how many people were gleefully predicting or actively wishing for her immediate suicide purely for ship motivated reasons and I was also worrying that the story was going to pretend that Ruby doesn't like. Have a life and support system outside of Aqua. Yes, she should absolutely be affected by his death but this period of her shutting down only to drag herself back onto her feet that we seem to be getting feels way more in line with pre-Movie Arc flanderization Ruby and I'll take that W where I can get it.

god. I haven't even talked about Kamiki's supposed serial killer cult. I just don't have the strength. Like… that's self-evidently stupid, right? I don't need to explain to you why that's ridiculous and unbelievable? You don't need me to tell you why it's fucking crazy that we're getting this information about the alleged overarching antagonist of the series not only in the second-to-last chapter of the entire series but after he was already dead, right? We can just move on? Ok good. jesus christ.

FINAL CHAPTER NEXT WEEK…

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter review

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myscenic · 8 months ago

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Pairing: bf!yoon jeonghan x 14thmember!male!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1k+

Synopsis: jeonghan and y/n have been in a loving relationship for years. during some competitive games in a variety show, jeonghan pushes through a knee injury to support y/n, showing their caring teamwork.

𖤓 Note: i was sick yesterday so i didn't write anything, i just rushed to finish this and it's 4am, it's kinda rough but idk😭

the fourteen members were prepping for the nana tour. as the director, na pd ensured everyone was ready.

jeonghan searched the room for his boyfriend y/n. they had counted on each other since little and after debuting, chose to openly share their relationship with carats.

he walked over to where y/n reviewed the schedule. "all set, babe?" jeonghan asked affectionately, touching y/n's arm.

y/n smiled. "just checking out the games."

leaning in, jeonghan said, "if we go shopping, let me know what you like. i'll buy it for my cute boyfriend."

y/n blushed at the sweet gesture, even after publicly dating for a while. their moment was interrupted by staff calling them to start filming.

during filming, jeonghan found ways to show y/n his affection like including him first or letting y/n lean on his shoulder. their open displays of love earned smiles from fans, who were happy the relationship didn’t need hiding.

the members began filming the first game, which was a scavenger hunt around the studio. na pd split them into teams, with jeonghan and y/n naturally partnering up.

"let's work hard to win, babe," jeonghan said, “you're not gonna troll the other members?” y/n questioned while smirking, jeonghan just smiled and shaked his head, then giving y/n's hand a squeeze before they took off.

the pair noticed the fans in the audience sighing happily at their cute interaction. they hustled through the plaza, finding items like a potato stuffed animal and director's megaphone.

when y/n spotted the last item on the high place, jeonghan said, "i'll lift you up so you can reach." but y/n hesitated, saying, "your knee just healed though, i don't want to hurt it again."

jeonghan smiled reassuringly. "don't worry, i feel strong. just be quick okay?" he knew y/n fretted over his injury from before.

still unsure, y/n met jeonghan's eyes. jeonghan said sincerely, "i'll be fine, i promise. now come on before the others finish!" y/n nodded and carefully stepped into jeonghan's cupped hands.

jeonghan grit his teeth a bit but lifted steadily. he trusted his body and didn't want to disappoint his boyfriend. within seconds y/n grabbed the item in victory.

"thanks hannie, you're the best as always," y/n said, extra gentle as he hugged jeonghan in celebration of their win. the fans cooed at their consideration for each other despite the competitive game.

jeonghan smiled, glad he could help even with his recent recovery. he knew y/n just looked out for his well-being, and that made his love feel sweeter.

during the next game, y/n tried his best but was struggling a bit without jeonghan by his side. jeonghan noticed and gently told na pd that he felt well enough to help.

na pd agreed, seeing y/n's concern for jeonghan had eased now that his injury was resting. jeonghan joined y/n's team, giving an encouraging smile. "let's do this together."

with jeonghan's support, y/n's spirits lifted and he played better. though jeonghan's knee twinged occasionally, he powered through for his love. their teamwork was seamless as always.

in the end, another group won. But y/n was just happy jeonghan didn't overexert himself. during their break, he gently rubbed jeonghan's knee. "thank you for helping. i feel at ease when we face things side by side."

jeonghan smiled softly, always touched by y/n's caring nature. "anything for you. now rest with me so this knee heals properly, okay?" y/n nodded, leaning into jeonghan's embrace. their bond gave each other strength.

that's when na pd announced the next game - a cooking challenge where pairs had to follow recipes. jeonghan caught y/n's excited eye. "partner?" without a word, y/n helped jeonghan up knowing they worked best in the kitchen together.

after a quick water break, it was time for another game involving a shopping trip. "remember our deal," jeonghan whispered to y/n with a wink.

at the store, y/n's eyes lingered on a stuffed bear holding a heart. neonghan noticed and said, "that one's yours!" he paid for it while the other members chuckled at their affection.

na pd announced that the filming for the day had finished. the members began going shopping, taking pictures, as the staff started packing up equipment.

jeonghan's knee was feeling sore, so y/n helped support him. "let's get some ice on it right away." jeonghan smiled lovingly at his caring boyfriend. "thank you, but don't fuss over me too much. i’ll be alright."

once everything was cleared away, the members said their goodbyes to the staff and began going back to the hotel. jeonghan and y/n went back together, holding hands. the long day of filming had exhausted them both, but being with each other made the tiredness fade away.

while walking to the hotel, y/n gently held jeonghan's hands, rubbing circles on his hand. jeonghan leaned his head on y/n's shoulder, smiling contentedly. "you were amazing out there today. i'm so proud of you." y/n blushed at the praise. "only because you were by my side supporting me every step of the way."

when they arrived at the hotel, the others headed to their rooms to rest but jeonghan took y/n's hand. "stay with me tonight?" y/n nodded, following jeonghan to his room. after showering, changing into comfortable clothes, and applying more ice to jeonghan's knee, they cuddled up in bed.

wrapped in each other's arms, all the stress and aches from the long day melted away. their love and affection for one another was the ultimate healing remedy. as they drifted off to sleep, jeonghan whispered, "i love you," to which y/n responded with a kiss on the forehead and his own. "i love you too."

safe and content in each other's embrace, wrapped in the warmth of their enduring love, jeonghan and y/n slept peacefully, dreaming of many more adventures yet to come as their relationship continued to thrive.

#kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #seventeen x male reader #yoon jeonghan x male reader #jeonghan x male reader

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fox-bright · 11 months ago

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Requisite Yearly We Do Not Buy from Baker Creek post

It's seed catalog time! One of my favorite times of year, honestly. While my garden mostly sleeps, full of dry leaves and fluffed-up birds and cold breezes, I'm indoors contemplating tomato varieties and telling myself that *this* will at last be the year I get the peas in on time.

As it is that appointed time, my usual yearly reminder: don't buy from Baker Creek!

Baker Creek are racist, fascist assholes! They intended to platform Cliven Bundy at their yearly conference, and Native seedkeepers have said that Baker Creek stole from them (and sell the product of that theft). They did a For Ukraine fundraiser that actually went to a far-right Ukrainian organization invested in obliterating LGBT rights.

Baker Creek might have some fun varieties of seed, but I can very nearly guarantee that if you see something there you want, I can find it or an analogue for you somewhere else.

Here's a selection of seed companies I personally have bought from, or people I trust have recommended; there will be a secondary and possibly tertiary reblog, since Tumblr only allows me to do ten links at once. If there's a company you've bought from and liked, please leave a review for them in the comments! What did you get, what did you like, how was the germination? Native Seed Companies: (please, please feel free to add more in comments to this post)

Companies Specializing in Native Pollinator Plants and Seed:

New to me last year, but HIGHLY RECOMMENDED seed preservation company (they have an incredible selection! My 2023 germination of their seed was like 98%! But they only accept paper order forms):

Cool weird nightshades, I got a bunch of dwarf tomato seeds from them last year and THEY didn't suffer from peppergate because they're a small company that does a lot of their own seed:

A list of ten more companies or so, which I buy from every year, will follow in a reblog in about two minutes; please share that one instead of this one.

#fox grows #fox gardens #gardening #baker creek #seed companies

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whenmemoriesfrost · 21 days ago

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08.11.24 | this is me trying 😴

my mental health is rock bottom atm, which makes very basic tasks like cooking and cleaning near-impossible. but today i made a tomato chickpea stew (there’s a layer of potatoes underneath too)

it took hours but i finally completed some very small final edits on a review + sent back to the editor. her initial comments were very lovely so that’s good

did half a day at work - made some content, did some filming, did an interview.

nearing the end of my knitted scarf. i’m making it for someone else but kind of want one for myself too!! this pattern is very quick, easy and fun so i’ll probably make a few as christmas gifts

ready to revisit a short story i left behind earlier this year! i rewrote the opening paragraph today and very happy with it.

@studentbyday tagged me to do this picrew!! i love doing these lol. i tag @catucino @sucharomantic @stemstudyblog if you want to :)

#studyblr #writeblr #journal #study blog #productivity log #refilling the well

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probablyasocialecologist · 10 months ago

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The oft-used description of early humans as “hunter-gatherers” should be changed to “gatherer-hunters,” at least in the Andes of South America, according to groundbreaking research led by a University of Wyoming archaeologist. Archaeologists long thought that early human diets were meat-based. However, Assistant Professor Randy Haas’ analysis of the remains of 24 individuals from the Wilamaya Patjxa and Soro Mik'aya Patjxa burial sites in Peru shows that early human diets in the Andes Mountains were composed of 80 percent plant matter and 20 percent meat. The study, titled Stable isotope chemistry reveals plant-dominant diet among early foragers on the Andean Altiplano, has been published by the peer-reviewed journal PLOS ONE. It applies methods in isotope chemistry and statistical modeling to unveil a surprising twist in early Andean societies and traditional hunter-gatherer narratives. “Conventional wisdom holds that early human economies focused on hunting -- an idea that has led to a number of high-protein dietary fads, such as the Paleodiet,” Haas says. “Our analysis shows that the diets were composed of 80 percent plant matter and 20 percent meat.” For these early humans of the Andes, spanning from 9,000 to 6,500 years ago, there is indeed evidence that hunting of large mammals provided some of their diets. But the new analysis of the isotopic composition of the human bones shows that plant foods made up the majority of individual diets, with meat playing a secondary role. Additionally, burnt plant remains from the sites and distinct dental-wear patterns on the individuals’ upper incisors indicate that tubers -- or plants that grow underground, such as potatoes -- likely were the most prominent subsistence resource. “Our combination of isotope chemistry, paleoethnobotanical and zooarchaeological methods offers the clearest and most accurate picture of early Andean diets to date,” Haas says. “These findings update our understanding of earliest forager economies and the pathway to agricultural economies in the Andean Highlands.”

#hunter gatherer #prehistory #archaeology #anthropology #diet

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neoclassic-sonic · 1 month ago

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Metal Knuckles receiving a Funko Pop and Fang receiving a Jakks Pacific 2.5 Figure (as well as Trip being announced to get one too in the next wave) all in the past year strikes a very interesting development in terms of Sonic Merchandising!

For the longest time the characters available to be used in Classic Sonic merchandising have always been Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Dr. Eggman, Metal Sonic and Super Sonic. It's always been this way since 2009 when First 4 Figures first released a line of figurines done in the Classic Style. (Two years before Sonic Generations by the way!)

And every company afterwards followed the same trend. (... Not always. Amy and Metal Sonic's inclusion is always dependent on if the company has enough ''character slots'' to fit them and Eggman's status as a non-animal villain puts him in a unique position where he's sometimes included sometimes not but yknow potato potato) Regardless, for the longest time no other character was /added/ to that 7 piece lineup.

That is... until the release of Sonic Mania Plus in 2018, bringing back two beloved characters Mighty and Ray into the Classic spotlight. And not as cameo characters either but as main protagonists in their own right.

Now a little background is needed, for the longest time a toy company called Jazwares held the license for making Sonic articluated figurines (there were a few others who had the license too but Jazwares was THE head bitch in the industry), they lost the license in 2013/2014 to Tomy who would go on to make Sonic Boom Figurines and then regular figurines in 2017~. Tomy would lose that license to Jakks Pacific in 2019~.

During Jazwares run, they released their line of Classic figurines but lost the license before they could release Knuckles

(They have an eggman too btw just. not included in this pack)

And during Tomy's run, they released their own Classic line too in 2017 (bundled with a modern version of the characters figurine and a copy of a comic book from Archie Sonic themed around the character...

... well. supposed to be. Archie lost the license to the comics in the middle of the series so Sonic and Knuckles had Archie books while Tails and Metal Sonic were delayed.

The status of their releases (iirc) were actually really... doubtful... Keep in mind this was in the middle of Sega reviewing the Sonic licenses before Forces, after cutting Archie, Tomy was also on the chopping block. Thankfully the two released a year later in 2018, their initial comic books were replaced with english versions of Sonic Comics that were posted for Sonic's 25th anniversary. These were the only way you could get english versions of those comics I think?

Amy and Eggman were originally planned for this series as well, shown off in the 2017 catalogue that initially announced this line but Tomy lost the license soon after Tails and Metal Sonic release. The fact the two even released was kind of a hail mary, I think it was generally agreed back then that they were gonna be shelved and only got to release /because/ of those 25th Anni comics.

Jakks Pacific would get the toy license in 2019 but during their first year... they would only release /Modern/ Sonic figurines. And they didn't release waves of products as fast as they are nowadays. Back then each new announcement was like a dripping faucet. Hell, from what I remember, their very first line of products wasn't even articulated figures but stretchy figures?

We got the pinball figures in 2019 though,

Which at least told us that A) Jakks Pacific had the license for classic sonic products and B) Mighty! and Ray!!!! First ever merchandise!!! The lack of Amy though did set us in that weird limbo were people were wondering if Classic Amy would ever be acknowledged by Sega. Especially post Sonic Mania. Keep in mind 2017 was like that soft reset of the franchise and her not being in Mania at all, not being included in Tomy's classic merchline in 2017-2018, not being included in these pinball figurines, only ever being used in promotional stuff like the shorts and two posts on twitter... (at the time) like. Amy fans were really worried for her!!! It wasn't until Sonic's 30th IDW Comic where we finally get to see her again in any substantial form and that was all the way in 2021!

Anyway, we finally got the articulated figurines announced in 2020 but the first few lines... only had /modern/ sonic stuff.

The first two waves of both the 2.5 inch and 4 inch line only featured modern characters. Thankfully classic series figurines would be announced for both lines around Fall, classic sonic for the 2.5 inch line in December and...

THATS RIGHT BITCHES, MIGHTY FOR THE 4 INCH LINE

Releasing NOVEMBER 2020, our very first Classic Sonic articulated figurine and its MIGHTY. I remember being so hyped for that. It was kinda awkward since these were the first two classic toys and mighty was bigger. Thankfully Sonic would get a 4 inch figure in the wave in February but Mighty would get a 2.5 inch figure the much later in October.

Starting then classic characters would gradually be introduced in the figurine line. For 2.5 inches:

Tails would get his on January 2022

Amy on February 2022

Knuckles and Eggman on June 2022

And Ray! on September 2022! alongside Metal Sonic

After that badniks (and mecha sonic (2023)) would be joining the series throughout the years. The 4 inch line would see a similar path but with different characters kinda? After Sonic in February we would see:

Mecha Sonic and Eggman in August 2021

Eggrobo in June 2022

Ray in September 2022

Tails in February 2024

Knuckles in March 2024

Amy in September 2024

(Yes, the classic figures really wouldnt get that much releases in the 4'' line ironically enough. It's kinda accepted that, proportions wise, Classic Characters work better as 2.5 inchers and Modern Characters work better as 4 inchers. Eggman, Mecha Sonic and the hardboiled heavies would release as 4 inchers though and they work better in proportion with the 2.5 inch sonic and friends)

What was that? Yes! The hardboiled heavies finally receive 4'' figurines! Heavy Gunner in December 2023 and Heavy King in the next wave March 2024! finally after 7 years after their debut game!

The other heavies have yet to recieve figurines but it's only a matter of time really. Especially since Fang released as a 2.5'' last August and Trip will be getting hers before the end of the Fall.

Which brings us back to my original point, We're finally getting new characters in Classic Sonic merchandising! The Hardboiled heavies were long overdue, and I was hesitant to consider them as a pivotal moment,,, they're older characters and badniks for one thing. But Fang??? Metal Knuckles??? Trip? Something must have changed in Sega's product team and imo this bodes well for the future. I won't get my hopes up and expect Bean or Bark despite them appearing in Sonic Mania and yes while they've been really active as of late due to IDW Fang the Hunter miniseries, Fang's inclusion is definitely a Sonic Superstars thing. It's safer to assume that characters who get figurines are most likely going to be those who've made an appearance in games. Which brings us to Metal Knuckles. who's a Sonic R character, sure, but his design and recent release definitely points to Sonic Superstars... where he shares his minor role with Metal Amy, Tails and Trip.... look. I'm just saying. I'd much rather see the Metal series come to Jakks Pacific more than the badniks or Rocky or Flicky or whatever.

#sonic the hedgehog #Miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #Fang the Sniper #mighty the armadillo #ray the flying squirrel #amy rose #trip the sungazer #metal sonic #metal knuckles #classic sonic #Jakks Pacific

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alexanderwales · 4 months ago

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I played Harvest Moon on the N64, and it was pretty much my favorite game of that era. I was in high school, and I would get done working on my uncle's farm and then go over to my friend's house to play virtual farm with him, switching off every other day. (I didn't have an N64 of my own until much later, because we were poor.)

When Stardew Valley came out, it was like ConcernedApe had been playing there with us and understood exactly what I wanted out of Harvest Moon, which for various reasons the actual Harvest Moon successors never ended up delivering on. I thought it was a little bit weird that people were praising its originality, as though it was doing something unique and unprecedented, since it was so obviously just an indie dev version of Harvest Moon rather than a unique game that had sprung up from nowhere, but I loved Stardew Valley, and played it a bunch. And then I kept thinking "how are was ConcernedApe the only one to do this?"

Well, we're now deep into the wave of games that followed in the wake of Stardew Valley, and I've played enough of them to start thinking that ... maybe I just don't actually like them?

I picked up Fields of Mistria, which had "Overwhelmingly Positive" reviews on Steam, and is very much in the "copy what Stardew Valley copied from Harvest Moon" genre. Here's your dilapidated farm! Here's your shitty equipment! Here's your quest to talk to all the 20-some townsfolk! Plant some potatoes!

It might be the core gameplay loop that's irritating to me now. Watering the crops every morning is not actually that good from a gameplay perspective, and I keep scratching my neck and saying "come on, where are the sprinklers, where are you hiding them, I know you must have them". I think my watering-the-crops tolerance had just steadily gone down as the years have gone by.

Very possible if I keep playing Fields of Mistria, I'll find something that grows on me, but in spite of being a polished game in a genre I once adored, I think it's almost certainly going to get a refund. I've just played too many of these, I guess, and the prospect of romancing the villagers by giving them a gift every day is leaving me cold.

(Also I have always thought that these games would be much better if there was an option to romance every villager, even the ones who were married. If I want to be a homewrecker, I should be allowed to be. If I want a really problematic forty-year age gap between me and the mayor's father, that's my God-given right. Obviously I know those romance storylines, to be done right, require a significant amount of work, but still ... there's got to be a way.)

#harvest moon #fields of mistria #stardew valley

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circle-with-me · 1 year ago

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Where Do We Go From Here?

Pairing: Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x ofc (fem reader)

Content Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, mentions of smut, if i missed anything let me know.

Taglist: @thesazzb, @tearfallpixie, @synthetic-wasp-570, @nerdraging4point0 (thanks to them for cheering me on and dealing with me being a complete psycho as I freaked out over posting this. You're the best)

Author's note: This is the first thing I've ever written, or at least written and shared with multiple people. I don't have a clue what I'm doing but I'm kind of proud of it, so I hope you all enjoy it :)

PART 2

You’ve known Jolly for years. You met him not long after he moved to the area, striking up a conversation in a bar one evening. After hitting it off he had invited you to come watch his band play the following weekend. At first, you thought it was an attempt to get you in bed but when he caught up with you after the show he seemed genuinely interested in your opinion. You couldn’t help but find it adorable how nervous he was waiting for your review of his band’s performance.

As you gave him your very serious but glowing seal of approval, you watched Jolly’s once nervous features transform into pure joy. His infectious smile soon caused you to smile back at him and Jolly picked you up in his arms hugging you tightly. He laughed at you as you squealed from the unexpected bear hug. You spent the rest of the night parked on a cliff eating fast food and talking about anything and everything. You only realize how long you’ve been talking when you see the sun come up.

And then suddenly, Jolly was in your life. He would come over after you got home from work, and you’d make dinner and watch movies. The two of you would spend most weekends together; drinking, going to shows, or being useless couch potatoes. You were friends; best friends, never crossing any lines. Cuddling on the couch was the most “touchy-feely” the two of you would get and even then, Jolly would keep his hand on your upper arm or your head softly playing with your hair.

It got to the point where the two of you spent so much time together that you questioned whether your friendship was affecting his love life. You had seen him with girls in the past, but they had mostly been one-night stands or short flings. None of them had lasted longer than a couple of months. You tried to make yourself scarce when a new one came along. You figured they didn’t want their boyfriend’s girl best friend hanging around much. Jolly always made a point to hunt you down, though, asking you why you were disappearing on him.

“I don’t know” you’d say, shrugging. “I’m just trying not to interfere with your love life.” Usually, he’d roll his eyes and tell you to stop being ridiculous, but this time was different. This time when you said it his gaze fell from yours to your lips and back. The action was so quick you could have blinked and missed it. He pulled you into a hug and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Ah, Käraste.” He said quietly into your ear. “You are my love life.”

Then, one night, after a particularly difficult breakup and a little too much to drink he kissed you. Kissing Jolly wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. You didn’t expect it to happen whilst inebriated in a poorly lit alley. You also didn’t expect it to be as soft as it was. You assumed it would be somewhat rough like his calloused hands. Instead, it was gentle and way too quick for your liking. He pulled back and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, staring at the ground. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You grabbed his chin gently to make him look at you, running your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. Jolly had one arm next to your head as he leaned against the wall behind you watching you intently. With your other hand, you grabbed him by the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him closer to you. He groaned as his hips slotted into yours and he pressed his hardening cock against your core. Your lips crashed together, and it wasn’t long before he had flipped you around against the wall and was fucking into you like it was his only purpose in life.

The rest of the night had been spent in bed with Jolly slowly taking you apart and putting you back together. Over and over again until you both fell asleep, sated and exhausted.

After that, you were inseparable. More so than before. Things were perfect the first two years, but you never made it to the third. Something had changed, but you weren’t sure what it was. The spark wasn’t there anymore. You both found yourselves spending more and more time apart. He was spending more time working on music and you spent your days on your hobbies and work. Neither of you could pinpoint what caused you to drift apart but after a few months and a lot of fighting, there was no denying that things weren’t getting any better.

So, you broke up. You were both devastated but couldn’t figure out a better way. Thinking back on it, you could have tried harder, and gone to couple’s therapy. Something other than just giving up, but the damage had been done. Living life completely without Jolly had proved impossible. He kept showing up with food or a terrible movie to watch. You couldn’t resist going to his shows. Old habits die hard. The romance was gone but you were best friends first. That was where you’d settle. Best friends and nothing else. You could still manage that, right?

At least that was what Jolly had planned.

Now, a year after the breakup, he’s sitting in your living room trying to keep his composure. You’ve been with this dipshit a couple of months and seeing you with him makes his skin crawl. He can’t even remember the guy's name. Kyle? Andy? Kody? Something stupid. He just knows that this gangly pathetic excuse of a man is making out with you on the couch less than two feet away from him and he’s ready to implode.

This evening was supposed to be a group movie night with the guys from the band included but they all bailed for one reason or another. Deep down Jolly knew that the guys were trying to push their friends back together. They had seen how much the breakup had affected Jolly and hoped that by passing on the movie night it would give the two of you some time to reconnect.

Unfortunately, none of them, especially Jolly, knew that you would invite your shit-for-brains boyfriend.

So now he’s stuck on this couch with the two of you. You’re leaning into Connor’s (Tyler’s?) chest, and he has his arm around you. One hand is resting on the arm of the couch and the other is rubbing the outside of your thigh.

Jolly tries not to stare, but you’re wearing those fucking shorts. They’re pink satin pajama shorts with a slit at the side seam. He knows you’re not wearing underwear with them either because you never do. He’s fucked you in those shorts so many times he’s lost count, bending you over the nearest surface he could find. Sometimes he’d pull them down over your ass but most of the time he’d just push them to the side and pound into you until you had drenched both the satin material and his cock.

Fuck, he loved those shorts.

You were wearing them on purpose, Jolly figured. You were in a completely different outfit when he arrived at your place earlier in the evening: an oversized t-shirt and black leggings. Your idiot boyfriend showed up right after with pizza and beer and ruined Jolly’s hopes for a quiet evening alone with his best friend. You gave him an apologetic smile as Chris loudly made his way into the living room with dinner.

Chris. That was his fucking name. Still stupid.

The three of you were eating quietly on the couch. Well, the two of you were. Chris was blabbering endlessly about his day at work. This was the fourth job he’d had since the two of you had started dating a little less than six months ago. He had left everyone because they “didn’t understand him”. Jolly knew that was code for “I fucked around and got fired.” He wondered what the hell was so appealing about this guy.

Chris continued along with his animated storytelling, his voice becoming even louder and more annoying every second. He started to wave his arms around, because how else do you get a point across? As he flailed his arms, he hit the beer bottle you’ve brought to your mouth, barely missing your lips and knocking it out of your hand.

You stand up abruptly, gasping at the sudden sensation of cold beer in your lap. “Jesus Christ, Chris!”

Chris just sat there, mouth agape, and laughing. “It’s not funny, you asshole.” Chris continued laughing as Jolly headed to the linen closet to get you a towel.

“Thanks.” You mumbled quietly as you took the towel. Jolly nodded and sat down, glaring at Chris who was still quietly giggling. You cleaned the excess beer off your pants and the couch with the towel, annoyed at the fact you’ll have to deep clean your cushions later to avoid them reeking of cheap beer.

“Babe I’m sorry, but that was funny.” Chris finally spoke. Jolly winced at his comment. Wrong thing to say. Both men watched as you slowly turned to meet Chris’ gaze. Jolly had been on the receiving end of that look on more than one occasion and was not envious of the man sitting beside him.

You threw the now wet towel at Chris’ face. “You’re an idiot that needs to watch what the fuck he’s doing.” You hissed. Chris watched you wide-eyed as you stalked towards the stairs. “W-Where are you going?” He stammered. “I’m not going to sit all night in wet clothes reeking of beer, am I?”

“Why bother changing? You could just strip here. I’m sure Jolly wouldn’t mind, would you?” He said, laughing and nudging Jolly with his elbow. Jolly started to say something but was interrupted by an object flying and hitting Chris directly on the side of his face. Chris yelped and held a hand to his face looking around wildly searching for the culprit. The object landed on the couch between the two men. Jolly erupted with laughter when he realized you had thrown your flip-flop from the top of the stairs and made perfect contact with your boyfriend's head.

Suddenly, Jolly is brought back to the present by the sound of you giggling. He glances over to see the two of you had made up as you and Chris were making out. Your back is facing him, so you have no idea that he is currently watching the show. He stifled a groan. He liked it better when you were pissed and throwing things at him. Jolly dares to sneak another glance and watches Chris' hand not so subtly begin to slip into your shorts. He can hear you softly gasping and attempting to hide your moans in Chris’ neck, but he can hear them even over the movie that was playing. While I’m right next to you, are you fucking kidding me?

Jolly considers making a scene, bursting their little love bubble. He couldn’t decide who he was more pissed at, Chris or you. Then, as if he could hear Jolly’s thoughts, Chris made eye contact with him. Fuck. He didn’t realize he was watching again. He refuses to look away in some piss-poor attempt at establishing dominance. He’s the one fingering your girl right in front of you. Pretty sure he has the upper hand here.

Chris smirks and Jolly breaks eye contact and watches as you begin to pant harder and whine. The noises go straight to his cock, and he has to avoid adjusting himself because he knows Chris is still watching. He can tell by the way you’re breathing that you’re about to cum and all he can do is sit there and watch. He could get up and leave but those pretty little noises you’re making are keeping him glued to his seat. Even if they’re not for him. Jolly watches as you roll your hips into Chris’ hand one last time and you’re seizing in his hands and bury yourself into his neck further to stifle a very loud moan unsuccessfully.

Jolly mistakenly makes eye contact with Chris again, whose smirk is even bigger than before, and he winks. He could have strangled the motherfucker right there and not felt bad about it, but you love him. He quickly gets up off the couch and stalks to the kitchen because he’s pissed and the tightness in his joggers is getting to be too much.

He stands in the kitchen trying to calm down. He should just leave. Just get in his car and leave. Later, he could tell you that he got a headache or something and that’s why he left. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that your boyfriend made you cum two feet away from him. No, she would know something was up. As upset as he was, Jolly didn’t want to embarrass her. He sighs and closes his eyes trying to think.

He hears footsteps coming into the kitchen and his eyes fly open thinking Chris was coming to brag in his face. Instead, you walk in, legs still a little wobbly from before. You lock eyes with him and instantly know something is up as his hazel eyes are now a dark brown. He stares intently at you, gripping the kitchen counter in front of him.

“Is everything okay?” you ask quietly, almost afraid of his response. His gaze flickers down your body and back up to your eyes as he licks his lips. You swallow harshly. Jolly hasn’t looked at you like that in over a year. You knew exactly what that look meant, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty at how much it affected you.

He pushes off the counter and in two quick strides has you by the throat and is licking into your mouth. He snakes his other arm around your waist and pulls you into him. You considered protesting but knew it would be a waste of time. Aside from his bruising grip, Jolly was always your weakness. You’d spent a year pretending you didn’t still care about him while also pretending your boyfriend had a chance at satisfying you the way Jolly did. If it was Jolly who had just taken care of you on the couch, you wouldn’t be walking at all. Jolly’s hand releases your throat and slides up into your hair. He pulls away, both of you panting. He stares at you for a moment and says “Tell me you love him. Tell me you love him, and I’ll stop.”

You blink for a moment, confused. Why would he say that now? Was he suddenly feeling guilty like you had been? You startled slightly as you heard your boyfriend laugh loudly at the movie in the living room. He wasn’t bothered by your absence. You continue to stare into Jolly’s eyes, still blown wide with lust but there was something else to them. They were almost pleading. You knew you didn’t love Chris. How could you? He was a placeholder, and you knew it. You couldn’t resist the beautiful Swedish man who had his grip on you, physically and emotionally. You feel his grip loosen slightly and watch his gaze drop. You realize in the time you’ve been considering his statement it appeared to him as if you were afraid to respond, which gave him his answer.

Quickly you grab his face with both of your hands and pull him close to you. Your noses bump and your lips are so close that they would touch with the slightest movement forward. “I don’t.” You breathe, “I don’t love him.” Jolly scans your face for any hint of insincerity. Seeing none his grip on your waist tightens and he sighs. “I can’t stand watching him touch you any longer. I can’t stand that he thinks you belong to him.” You tilt your head to the side slightly, pushing the hair out of his beautiful face and smile. “Then why don’t you show me who I belong to?”

#joakim jolly karlsson #joakim karlsson #jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x ofc #jolly karlsson fanfiction #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens band

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