#so normal about this specific era

[iusedtomakeoutwithvampires]

computer show me basement gerard way in the banner zip up

[brittlebutch]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[averlym]

@remylong :

[dallonwrites]

new twin lore ruining my life. dorothy helped teach her brother how to drive!!! she probably sat in the car with him in an empty parking lot and helped him!! and she knows how much driving freaks him out!! recounting is not enough i need to see this in scene form wtf if only the author would write that

[starlooove]

ok I'm NOT much of a DC reader but your dukeblogging has convinced me. but do you have a reading list (DC has more crises than I do. it's intimidating) by any chance

YEAHAHSJS

Ok so like Im not a REAL dc blogger so I don’t really have my own reading list; I basically focus heavily on black characters across the board and then dive into wherever they’re from but I usually use other reading lists to do it and go at my own (slow ass) pace. For DC i started fandom only and then moved on to actually reading comics which is why my opinions are so strong there bc I KNOW WHAT YALL ARE LIKE!

Sorry but now for Duke specifically I KNOW there’s a specifc blogger who’s list I followed down to the T but I cannot remember their url rn so here’s a list/chart that has like. Listings for him specifically

That’s mostly to follow timeline but for me I think to get his character down u could do all star Batman, Batman and the signal, the outsiders, WAR and then branch out from there (but also saying this as someone who’s read most of it so like maybe I’m biased and missing or forgetting smth). I’m sorry if this isn’t helpful but as SOON as I find that reading list I’m posting it bc I swear I literally went down that list one by one.

Edit: the tags are part of the answer but I ran out of room so post tags;

- tbh when it comes down to it I personally try to absorb character by character and then put them all together at the end; it’s what I’m currently doing with green arrow (I know it’s been months y’all don’t call paw patrol I’m STUPID) and my plan for moving forward but also fully acknowledging this sucks as a way to interact with other established fans however. Other established fans have proven to be racist and misunderstand characterization and character interaction on a fundamental level SOMETIMES (BC y’all get mad) bc they’re so focused on their faves so in conclusion If I don’t find the specific lists I used I’d get them from stan blogs and then be careful cause u know everyone’s using their faves BEST comics so just remember this is what THEY think is the best or most accurate Interpretation and u don’t have to agree (RR the road home and YJ98 sorry to be shitting on them again. Not even them but how ppl read them. Diff story tho)

-but also despite me obviously shitting on certain characters runs or interpretations I think the best thing you could do is give everyone a fair chance. Blank slate in ur mind if ur JUST starting and see where u go from there but also remember to check ur biases and think about WHY certain things get included or retconned or explained away bc that’s where a lot of ppl falter in thinking their fave is just misunderstood or smth.

FOUND THE LIST sorry this has been in and out for the drafts while searching so in conclusion FR;

I hope this helped but I think I sound insane just please read these <3

[fifty-ten]

it’s so sad when you play a game that’s earlier in a series after playing a later entry & it’s a little worse… like it’s not the game’s fault that later titles built on and improved its mechanics.

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[runwayrunway]

I'm going to interrupt my normal posting schedule briefly to discuss naming airplanes. Don't worry, I'll post the regularly scheduled Friday review after this, but first I'm going to talk about naming airplanes.

When I say that I don't mean naming types of airplanes. I mean giving the airplanes names. A lot of airlines do it. Back in the day you had your Clipper This, Flagship That, Star of the Whatsit, so on. Lots of airlines name theirs after places. Aer Lingus names theirs after Irish saints. SAS names their Vikings. FedEx Express gives theirs human names, like Gabriel, Richard, JobEdokat, and Meredith.

The year is 2023 at time of writing. Clipper This, Flagship That, and Star of the Whatsit are now all relics of a distant past where a plane ticket cost more than some cars and airports sold life insurance at kiosks. That age is long past. Delta, United, American...all cowards, their airplanes long unnamed. Though the practice is alive and well elsewhere, for some reason it has largely gone dormant in the United States. There are few exceptions, but there are exceptions, and there is one in particular which stands out from the rest. Just one carrier on a mission and their 289 individually named flying machines.

I would like to present you with a curated selection of things which jetBlue has named their airplanes. There are many more - 289, to be specific. Take a look through them all if you care to. But this is a list of my favorites. Just a bit of appreciation for a true titan of aircraft-naming in an era where the art seems all but lost.

Roses Are Red, This Plane is Blue (N3104J)

Aruba, Jamaica, Blue I Wanna Take Ya (N2016J)

Blue's That Girl? (N997JL)

Don't Hate Me 'Cause I'm Bluetiful (N996JL)

Don't Mind If I Blue (N971JL)

Blue Kid On The Block (N913JB)

1. Fly JetBlue 2. Repeat Step 1 (N807JB)

Shantay, Blue Stay (N794JB)

#Follow @JetBlue (N334JB)

Enough about me...let's talk about blue (N712JB)

Big blue people seater (N705JB)

Bippity, Boppity, Blue (N565JB)

Blue-yah! (N187JB)

Badda Bing Badda Blue (N534JB)

FuhgeddaBlueDit (N3113J)

Boogie Woogie Bluegle Boy (N3062J)

My Other Ride is a JetBlue A320 (N329JB, an Embraer E190)

My Other Ride is a JetBlue E190 (N793JB, an Airbus A320)

And, my personal favorite:

How's My Flying? Call 1-800-JETBLUE (N715JB)

(Although if you can read that, you're probably too close. Incidentally, 'If You Can Read This, You're Blue Close' is an A320-200 with the registration N729JB.)

[retroellie]

Mile-high club

Summary: After a month of not having sex, you decide to be bold with what you want from spencer. Stepping out of both your comfort zones due to complete sexual frustration.

A/N: This one is a bit rushed, but can y'all tell what my faviote spencer era is? Like i love long haired spencer i can not! Also yall... I just turned 19 :) So that's a little life update lmao. Anyways love and miss y'all!!

Warnings: NSFW, public sex and dirty talk

Word count: 5.4K

As with any other case, this case dragged on and on until you felt you were nothing but skin and bones. Cases always left you feeling so empty inside, always so bleak... it always took you a bit to come back to your natural self. The first rule of being a part of the FBI is never to take it personally, don't take it to heart. But how could you not? You're inviting yourself into these people's lives, picking apart their brains, and using that to your advantage. You knew it was for the best but that didn't mean you had to like it.

You were doing what you normally did after cases, drinking hot tea on the jet aching for the sweet release of sleep. This time, however, you weren't aching for sleep. This entire week there was a thought always in the back of your mind, you weren't sure why it was this case specifically but for some reason, the thought lingered. Spencer... You felt yourself heating up every time around him, focusing only on his hands when he was showing you paperwork or squeezing your thighs together as you watched his hips. You had never been the needy one in the relationship, it has always been Spencer... but something about him now left you hungry. You racked it off to just you being hormonal, but you knew it was because Spencer's hands hadn't been on you for a while. Back-to-back cases like these always left no time to get down with Spencer... one downside to this job among many.

Even now, while sitting on the jet, you could only look at him. Emily and JJ were talking about god knows what, while you started across the jet to see your little Spencer. He was reading, his hands so delicately following as he read... His hair had gotten long, almost touching his shoulders now. You had gotten real used to pulling on it, sometimes subconsciously doing it as you hugged him. You started to think about how he looked last time you made him whimper, the picture burnt into your brain as you slid yourself up and down until he begged you to stop. "too much...." was all he could muster up, his wrist rubbing against the rope as he so badly wanted to reach up to touch you.

"You hear Y/N?" You heard a voice say, your heart dropping as you whipped your head towards it.

The voice belonged to Emily, her eyebrow raised as she wondered what you were thinking. She could see that something was up and not just because she was a profiler. Anyone who could see how you were looking at Spencer could see exactly how you were feeling, sexually frustrated. The way you gripped onto your coffee mug, and bit the inside of your lip roughly... basically eye fucked Spencer. Obviously, you could never tell Emily how you were thinking about Spencer being so pussy drunk that it physically hurt him. So you just sent a smile over to her, brought your tea to your lips, and nodded.

"Yeah! Sorry..." You kept the grin on your face, your embarrassment getting the best of you as you began to become flustered. "Just a bit distracted today."

You flicked your eyes between my cup and Emily, not wanting to make too much eye contact in the state you were in, your state being extremely turned on. It was gross to even admit, but even just looking at Spencer... your body reacted. Emily looked over at JJ, shooting her a look. You caught onto this, but not sure what that look even meant. JJ just chuckled softly, shifting herself in her chair. You looked between them, feeling as though you were left out of a really funny inside joke of theirs. Emily looked back at you, giving you a smirk.

"I can see that..." She leaned back in her chair, hands placed on her stomach as she read your confusion. "Been a while?"

Her words confused you, not sure what she meant by that. You now started feeling like you were the butt of the joke, feeling like you did in high school when girls would giggle behind you. "Been a while." Could mean anything, has it been a while since you showered? Has it been a while since you ate? Has it been a while since you went to a concert? The possibilities were endless yet Emily still expected an answer. You furrowed your brows, cocking your head to the side.

"What?" You asked, genuinely needing an explanation before you could even answer her question. Emily chuckled once again, looking back at Spencer before huddling herself closer to you as if she had to tell you a huge secret.

"You and Spencer?" That was all she said.

Your heart dropped, was Emily a mind reader? or were you just that frustrated that it was written on your skin? Her words made you think, however, how long has it been? It was definitely before this case and the one before it... then there was that 4-day conference y'all were forced to attend, well then that one week you got your period and didn't feel like doing anything but laying in bed... You would say it's been a good month, maybe a little more. This was definitely not normal for you two, sex was like food to the two of you. It was y'alls way to destress from cases, it became so normal to go home after a long case and bang it out. Trust and believe this drought had been taking a toll on you, you were so horny that you could start humping Spencer's leg at any moment, just like a dog in heat.

You hesitated to answer, not wanting to cross that boundary with Emily but also not wanting to be humiliated. You were the more private person when it came to the BAU, you would come in and do your work... that's it. Obviously, you were a part of the BAU family, you knew everyone's business and you would hang out with them outside of work. But you were a mystery to everyone there, well except Spencer, he had quite literally known you inside and out. As of right now though, you were frustrated and in need of a rant so that boundary didn't exist for you today.

"Is it that noticeable?" You said sarcastically, scoffing as you did so. You hated the feeling of being easily read, but the frustration was sloshing around inside you so it was only a matter of time before the people around you figured it out. Emily chuckled softly, looking over at JJ before she spoke.

"I mean you have been grouchy, you're not focused, and well..." Emily paused, she was now reading you like a book. "You've been undressing Spencer with your eyes this entire trip."

You wanted to melt into the ground, and let the worms use your flesh as food. You were embarrassed, completely and utterly ashamed of her words. You were acting like a starved man, only able to focus on the mere thought of food... like a complete glutton-driven man. You never really knew how much you needed sex, you started to wonder if you always had this need deep inside you. You remember before Spencer, you went months without an orgasm and was perfectly fine. Maybe it was Spencer, maybe his cock switched something on inside your pussy... or maybe other men hadn't been doing it right.

You felt your cheeks heat up but at the same time, your body ran cold. All you could do was watch as Emily snickered at your reaction, like your embarrassment was the funniest thing she had ever seen. You were much younger than Emily and JJ, you were newer to this world and newer to sex than they were. Trust and believe that both women have had their share of droughts, so this is not new to them. They weren't trying to embarrass you or make you feel you needed to be ashamed. No, they just found it amusing that you were so blinded to the fact you were so obvious with your motives. Let's just say your subtle touches and comments towards Spencer weren't so subtle.

"I just..." You start, your voice sounding as though you were pouting and honestly... you were pouting. "It used to be every day! Every night, after work... like clockwork! But this stupid fucking job is getting in the way of us, I mean sex is how we communicate!"

Your voice is rising, alerting the sleeping Derek who sat right behind you. He was too tired to even comprehend what you were talking about, which surprised you because he always teased you and Spencer about your sex life. The girls didn't laugh this time, only watched as you looked like you were going crazy. They didn't realize how upset you were about this, this felt it went far beyond sex to you. It did in some sense, as said before you and Spencer were always having sex so if there was no sex happening... there was no and him happening either. This could turn into a therapy session, you could cry about how you felt ignored and put aside but it wasn't that at all... you were just so horny for Spencer, this frustration building up and ready to burst. JJ sighed softly, patting you on the shoulder.

"I get it... I mean we get it." She points between her and Emily, shooting Emily a smile. "Y/N... You need to have sex or you're going to go insane."

Emily nods, agreeing with JJ's clear over-exaggeration. You felt like you were already going insane, you couldn't do anything without the thought of Spencer's cock down your throat completely eliminating your focus. So although it was clear JJ was being dramatic about it, you felt it was pretty accurate for the feeling inside you. You let out a sigh, pushing your hair back as you leaned back in your chair. You have been at this job for 4 years, and insanity came with the job, so this feeling of complete and utter insanity due to not having sex was killing you simply because it was so new to you.

"Trust me, I know." Was all you said, biting your lip softly as your eyes flicked over to Spencer once more.

He was now leaning back in his chair, his thighs slightly opened as his hands were placed on them delicately. He was looking out the window, watching the clouds go by as the sun started to set. You couldn't help but look at his veiny hands placed so pretty on his thighs, you suddenly gained tunnel vision and your eyes started to outline his cock. Spencer sensed you looking at him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he turned his head. He made eye contact with you, sending you a soft smile. Talk about the straw that broke the camel's back, that opened the floodgates inside of you.

"You know what you should do?" JJ asked, trying to get your attention, and in only milliseconds... she had it. "You need to make him want it, it's what I used to do with Will all the time when I was pregnant, and believe me pregnancy hormones are no joke."

How does one go about making someone want them? You were no stranger in the teasing scene, it was your favorite thing to do with Spencer. But you haven't even had 2 seconds to tease him since the drought started, so you were a bit out of practice. Spencer would usually be a puddle on the floor you stepped on in seconds when you teased him, but he was so stressed that he couldn't tell his ass from his head sometimes. You were more than willing to know how JJ did it, and how she made men want her in times of desperation. 

"How?" You ask, feeling slightly more embarrassed by your sudden confusion. JJ thinks for a second, looking over at Emily for her to pitch in at any moment.

"There's many ways to do it, all people are different Y/N" Emily chuckled, looking over at JJ who was still thinking about how she even managed to seduce Will like she did. "My advice is just be overly affectionate with him, you know? Touch him more, show a little more skin, laugh louder... Just make it known, be loud with it."

You took in her words, especially the "make it known" and "be loud with it". You felt you could do that, with how frustrated you had become you could see yourself screaming for him to just fuck you. It would be a bit hard because Spencer is kind of not good with social cues, if you try to flirt with him sometimes, he just throws statistics your way. You repeated the words "make it known" in your head, how could you make it known... at that moment as you repeated it in your head like a mantra, you had such a devilish idea. Your hands almost started shaking due to excitement, the feeling taking over your body as you went to speak.

"I can do that..." You said with a smile, standing up from your seat and fixing your shirt. "I need to use the restroom, be right back."

You basically ran to the bathroom, zooming past Spencer who was quite confused at your sudden rush. You locked yourself in the small bathroom, the excitement taking over your body as you could see yourself start doing handstands due to excitement. You pulled out your phone, setting yourself on the small counter sink as you started to pull your shirt off. You weren't sure how to do this, your nerves getting the best of you as you clicked on your camera. You had no time to think, you just pulled your shirt off and aimed your camera at your chest.

The first one was more of a softcore nude, only in your bra as your hand laid on your chest. You took a couple of pictures with your bra on, then you clicked through them, deleting the ones you didn't like. You would've stopped there but you wanted to go the extra mile, you were "being loud" with it as Emily would say. You pulled your bra off, watching it fall to the floor, the nerves in your stomach only fooling you to go further. You pointed the camera at your chest, snapping a couple of pictures. Again, you weren't good at this... you never claimed to be, so you took pictures from multiple angles and positions. Some you were squeezing them together, some you weren't.... you weren't a model or a photographer so you were working with what you had.

You finished, hopping down from the sink and putting your clothes back on. You sat on the lidded toilet, scrolling through the pictures as you picked the ones you would send. You were nervous to say the least, you knew it was just Spencer but you had never taken sex outside of the bedroom before. This was new, this was scary... this was so arousing. You clicked on Spencer's name, his name being "spencie poop" In your phone, you clicked on the pictures you wanted and hovered over the send button. Would this work? what if he isn't into it as much as you are? What were you even doing?

"Make it known. be loud with it." You repeated in your head, closing your eyes before clicking the send button. It took only seconds for it to send the anticipation building in your stomach. You decided to stay sitting in the toilet for a little longer, getting yourself together before you faced the world behind the small bathroom door. You knew Spencer wouldn't see the pictures until later on, knowing that he always put his phone on silent as he hated technology, especially when it interrupted his reading time. You wondered how he would react, knowing that Spencer didn't know how to react to most things. You wouldn't be surprised if Spencer sent you a thumbs up and a message saying how pretty you look, you weren't sure this would even work in your favor.

You gathered yourself, breathing in and out before you stood up to leave the bathroom. As you reached for the door, there was a small knock on it. You assumed it was someone who needed to use the bathroom, you had been in there for a good 15 minutes before you decided to leave. You reached for the door, opening it... Your heart dropped, your entire body went hot and your underwear became wetter than before. It was Spencer, his face was bright red and his hands shook softly. He didn't give you time to even open the door all the way before he barged into the small bathroom with you, shutting and locking the door behind you.

"Are you crazy?" He whispered, hoping no one else saw him or heard him come in. You were pressed against the sink, Spencer pressed against you as the small bathroom was not made for two. "Are you trying to get me in trouble? what if someone had seen?"

Spencer looked upset but his hard cock against your stomach gave his true feelings away. Spencer could never be mad at you, you knew this and you took advantage of it often. Unfortunately, Spencer was very by the books, he followed all the rules but when it came to you... rules didn't exist. So he wasn't actually upset about the pictures, he was just frustrated you decided to send them now. While Hotch was sitting right next to him, a clear shot of his phone and everything. You bit your lip softly, your eyes being pulled toward his cock rubbing against your belly, there was no hiding that in this small compact area.

"Seems like you liked them.." You teased softly, chuckling out as you looked up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer could have come then and there, your innocence creating a deep desire within him. He let out a sigh, his breath panning across your face as he did so smelling of coffee and mint. You brought your hand up to his tie, fiddling with it softly as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to come face-to-face with him. Spencer's breath hitched as your lips brushed his own, his mind going foggy and forgetting where he was in the moment... Something inside him though reminded him, the small voice in the back of his head telling him this was a bad idea and the team was only feet away from you both. As you started to undo his belt, He grabbed onto your shoulders, pushing you back softly.

"Y/N, that was extremely inappropriate..." He said sternly, trying not to give in to your pleading eyes. "Hotch was right next to me an..."

His words were cut off by your hand grasping his cock softly. In the short time, he had been scolding you, you managed to stuff your hand down his pants, Spencer was far too focused on trying to not give into your motives he didn't even realize. Spencer became putty just then, your hand rubbing his cock slowly cutting his iq down by 100. You knew this was also a horrible idea, I mean were you really going to let your twisted, horny mind risk your job? The answer was, yes... yes you were. If it meant that Spencer would be inside of you, then you would do anything.

"I know baby... I've been so bad." You whispered out, your hand still wrapped around his cock. You fluttered your eyes up at him, watching as his ability to control himself slowly disappeared. "But I had to! it's been so long, you have me all worked up and it's starting to hurt."

You rub his cock softly, his own eyes fluttering shut as you turn him into putty. Spencer hadn't even realized how long it had been, he didn't have much time to think about anything but work nowadays. He didn't realize it until he almost came in your hand just from a few pumps. His body had heated up, his cheeks red as you slid your thumb across his tip. His head was foggy but he still couldn't get past the thought that his boss was just outside the small bathroom you both had been in. He stiffened himself up again, putting a hand on your wrist.

"Y/N, the team is inches away from us." He spoke, pulling your hands from his pants and doing up his belt again. "I promise you I will let you do whatever when we get home to make up for these last couple of weeks okay?"

Trust and believe that it took Spencer his entire self-control to say no to you, especially after seeing those pictures. Your half-naked body, the way you looked up at the camera for him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get his cock to soften after knowing those pictures existed, he knew this was going to be a long trip home. He struggled with getting his belt looped, his hands shook so vigorously that they were no help to him. You finally reached your hand out to stop his hands, reaching up to lift his head to look up at you.

"Spencer, if you tell me to stop right now... I will." You spoke, you were frustrated and it was so obvious you both needed this. "I will stop and we can walk out of here like nothing happened okay? I just need you to say "I want this to stop." and that's it, I'll stop. But all i need is 5 minutes, I'll get us both off and no one will even notice.``

Spencer thought for a moment, seeing how serious you were. He knew you would never force him to do anything, so he knew if he really did tell you to stop, you would. but he really didn't want you to stop, his "professional FBI agent" side told him to stop but his "love drunk" side didn't want you to stop. All he could think about was your pictures and how uncomfortable this boner was going to be for the rest of the plane ride if he didn't just flat-out fuck you.

He tried to calculate just how far away the team was from the two of you and what the chances of them hearing the two of you were. He came up with it being 72% they won't hear the two of you, due to the fact the bathroom is a bit insulated and most of the team liked to sit far from the bathroom. You could see him doing this math in his head just by the look on his face, you chuckled to yourself knowing this was a complete Spencer Reid thing. Spencer struggled internally, both his logical and hormonal sides butting heads just as he looked down at you with those pretty doe eyes you kept giving him. Spencer was going to burst, the month of no sex finally catching up to him all at once.

"Fuck it..." He said right before crashing his lips onto yours.

Now Spencer Reid must have really been frustrated as he never used words like that, but something about you just sent him over the edge each time. You kissed him back immediately, his hands kept your mouth on him as his tongue slid into your mouth. It was all so fast-paced, just like you said it would be... you just needed five minutes. You reached down to his half-done belt and started undoing it once more, trying to focus on his lips and your hands at the same time. Spencer was so completely engulfed in the kiss that he couldn't even contemplate helping you at all, he just pressed you against the sink hinting at you to hop on it.

You positioned yourself on the sink, Spencer's hands going to your ass to prevent you from falling into it. You finally got his pants undone, pulling them down so only his cock could bounce free causing a soft groan to fall from his lips. You smirked softly into the kiss, feeling just as hard he had gotten just from your little "fight".

"Really liked them huh?" You said through the kiss, Spencer just kissed you harder trying to get you to shut up.

You just laughed softly, your hands now going to your own pants to take them off. You struggled with your pants, trying to keep Spencer's mouth satisfied with your mouth while also trying to get out of your very tight pants. Spencer noticed this, pulling away from you to help you slide your pants down your thighs and watching them bunch up on your ankles. As soon as they were out of the way, Spencer didn't even bother with your panties, he just pushed them to the side and slid himself into you.

"Fuc.." Was all he could get out before he stuffed his face into your neck, silencing his moans that were bound to come out.

Your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head, gripping onto his shoulders for support. You felt whole again, his cock sliding inside of you like it never left. Spencer didn't sit still for long before he started thrusting inside of you, his hands gripping your hips roughly. Spencer's thrust started rough and fast, taking your word for it only taking 5 minutes. To avoid suspicion and losing your job, you both needed to hurry up and get off.

You couldn't help but get lost in the feeling, finally after weeks of needing to be fucked and it's actually happening plus the feeling of getting caught only added to the pleasure. You thrust back into Spencer, lifting your hips off the counter just to slam your own hips into his. It went like this for minutes, both of you breathing heavily and using each other's bodies to get off. Suddenly you felt a knot inside of your form, your hands moving up to his hair to pull on it to alert him.

"Gonna cum... fuck gonna cum." You whispered into his ear, as his face was still stuffed between your neck and your shoulder. He was afraid if he replied, he was going to not be able to control the moans that came from his throat.

He just thrusted faster, his hand coming up to rest on the mirror as you both were being pushed further and further up onto the sink so the faucet was almost digging into your back. He let out a couple of soft whimpers as his thrust became sloppier, his eyes tearing up as his cock twitched. He'd never come this fast before, only besides the first few times you both had fucked, but this was a record and it was clear he had become so backed up that this was definitely needed.

He came first, coating the inside of your walls with his hot cum, fucking himself through his own orgasm as well as coaxing you to your own. You came only moments later, the feeling of his warm breath on your neck and his hot cum inside of you... you broke. You came with a soft moan and your nails digging into his shoulders. It wasn't the best orgasm he had ever given you but it was so needed, it felt like you had been given water after days of dehydration.

As said before, you needed to be quick so after a few seconds of recovering from ecstasy, you both were pulling your clothes back on. It felt dirty in a way, aftercare, and soft kisses weren't a luxury you had at the moment. You watched as he pulled his pants back on, once again struggling with his belt. You realized how lighter and rested he looked now like the quickie was the thing he was missing his entire life. You chuckled softly, moving your hands down to his belt to help him loop it through.

"Guess we just joined the mile-high club huh?" You smirked up at him, his face still red with lust. Spencer chuckled softly, watching as your hands fixed his belt.

Spencer was almost embarrassed that he allowed you to sit high and dry for almost a month straight, he hadn't even thought of touching you that entire time. Although his mind had been elsewhere the entire time, it still felt wrong for a person to completely deny you of anything. Spencer felt he needed sex as much as you did, something he would have never thought he would ever need. He now understands why Morgan is the way he is, the constant need to feel that closeness to someone... to feel so vulnerable, especially in a job where vulnerability is a weakness. You noticed that Spencer had been in his head again, he always just had that look to him.

"You okay?" You asked, your hands now fixing his hair slightly. "I didn't push a boundary did i?"

Spencer shook his head almost immediately, the feeling of any discomfort so far away it wasn't even there. Spencer felt completely comfortable with you, even if it was such a weird situation to be in. He just got into his own head a lot, letting his mind wander and making up all kinds of assumptions about things. The assumption on his mind right now was that maybe having a healthy, functioning relationship in this field was almost impossible. You both hadn't had a single conversation that wasn't about a case or coffee or anything that didn't involve the office, in weeks. Could you both go on like that or are you both destined to just have quickies in the jet bathroom for the rest of your careers.

"No! Of course not!" He breathed out, basking in your soft hands touching his face softly, something you had done to comfort him. "Just wanted to say sorry for being so distant lately, didn't know you were feeling this...ignored?"

He wasn't sure what the right word to use was and honestly, you didn't know either. You weren't actually angry with him, just frustrated especially when your only kind of stress release was coming home and fucking him till he cried. You continued to rub his cheek softly with your thumb, pushing his hair back from his face.

"I'm not mad honey." You chuckled, trying to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. "Just please start checking in with me okay? So the feelings don't build up and we have to risk our jobs again."

Your joke caused Spencer to crack a smile, his laugh filling the small bathroom. He nodded, leaning down to set a soft kiss on your lips. The reality started to sit in however, you both just fucked on the job basically and the embarrassment and shame were written all over both of you. You both had only been gone for 15ish minutes so it was going to be an easy lie to come up with, you'll probably blame it on your motion sickness that you actually feel often on the jet. You both agreed on a story, you had gotten sick and asked Spencer to hold your hair back, easy enough. You went to open the door, taking a breath before facing your team again.

"Hey y/n?" Spencer spoke, stopping you in your tracks before you opened the door. You gave him your full attention, turning to see his eyes once again filled the lust. "I did like them...You should definitely start, you know I'm...Sending them more often."

You let out a soft chuckle, rolling your eyes before walking out of the bathroom. You both nonchalantly went back to your seats, as if nothing happened. JJ and Emily were talking about something when you got back, completely lost in conversation to realize what had just happened. You looked around at everyone, trying to see an inch of disgust or knowing on their faces. Fortunately, everyone was oblivious to the events that happened in the bathroom so you could relax in your seat. You tried to listen in on JJ and Emily's conversation, putting your two cents in here and there but your eyes kept flicking over to Spencer. He was now boring his eyes into your skin, making your body heat up once again. You could tell that what was supposed to be a simple quickie, was definitely not over yet and it was going to be a long trip home. 

[pedrospatch]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

[sprintingowl]

Deadball

Deadball Second Edition is a platinum bestseller on DrivethruRPG. This means it's in the top 2% of all products on the site. Its back cover has an endorsement from Sports Illustrated Kids.

It's also not an rpg I'd heard about until I discovered all of these facts one after another.

I was raised in a profoundly anti-sports household. My father would say stuff like "sports is for people who can't think" and "there's no point in exercising, everything in your body goes away eventually." So I didn't learn really any of the rules of the more popular American sports until I was in my mid twenties, and I've been to two ballgames in my life. I appreciate the enthusiasm that people have for sports, but it's in the same way that I appreciate anyone talking about their specific fandom.

One of the things that struck me reading Deadball was its sense of reverence for the sport. Its language isn't flowery. It's plain and technical and smart. But its love for baseball radiates off of the pages. Not like a blind adoration. But like when a dog sits with you on the porch.

For folks familiar with indie rpgs, there's a tone throughout the book that feels OSR. Deadball doesn't claim to be a precise simulation or a baseball wargame or anything like that---instead it lays out a bunch of rules and then encourages you to treat them like a recipe, adjusting to your taste. And it does this *while* being a detailed simulation that skirts the line of wargaming, which is an extremely OSR thing to do.

For folks not familiar with baseball, Deadball starts off assuming you know nothing and it explains the core rules of the sport before trying to pin dice and mechanics onto anything. It also explains baseball notation (which I was not able to decipher) and it uses this notation to track a play-by-play report of each game. Following this is an example of play and---in a move I think more rpgs should steal from---it has you play out a few rounds of this example of play. Again, this is all before it's really had a section explaining its rules.

In terms of characters and stats, Deadball is a detailed game. You can play modern or early 1900s baseball, and players can be of any gender on the same team, so there's a sort of alt history flavor to the whole experience, but there's also an intricate dice roll for every at bat and a full list of complex baseball feats that any character can have alongside their normal baseball stats. Plus there's a full table for oddities (things not normally covered by the rules of baseball, such as a raccoon straying onto the field and attacking a pitcher,) and a whole fatigue system for pitchers that contributes a strong sense of momentum to the game.

Deadball is also as much about franchises as it is about individual games, and you can also scout players, trade players, track injuries, track aging, appoint managers of different temperaments, rest pitchers in between games, etc.

For fans of specific athletes, Deadball includes rules for creating players, for playing in different eras, for adapting historical greats into one massively achronological superteam, and for playing through two different campaigns---one in a 2020s that wasn't and one in the 1910s.

There's also thankfully a simplified single roll you can use to abstract an entire game, allowing you to speed through seasons and potentially take a franchise far into the future. Finances and concession sales and things like that aren't tracked, but Deadball has already had a few expansions and a second edition, so this might be its next frontier.

Overall, my takeaway from Deadball is that it's a heck of a game. It's a remarkably detailed single or multiplayer simulation that I think might work really well for play-by-post (you could get a few friends to form a league and have a whole discord about it,) and it could certainly be used to generate some Blaseball if you start tweaking the rules as you play and never stop.

It's also an interesting read from a purely rpg design perspective. Deadball recognizes that its rules have the potential to be a little overbearing and so it puts in lots of little checks against that. It also keeps its more complex systems from sprawling out of control by trying to pack as much information as possible into a single dice roll.

For someone like me who has zero background in baseball, I don't think I'd properly play Deadball unless I had a bunch of friends who were into it and I could ride along with that enthusiasm. However as a designer I like the book a lot, and I'm putting it on my shelf of rpgs that have been formative for me, alongside Into The Odd, Monsterhearts, Mausritter, and Transit.

[gojowifie]

Disclaimer: THIS is a personal opinion of mine so attack me all you want, I’m just going to block you anyways so try it 😏

So like yesterday I was talking to a friend about the current state of fanfics online and we fell down a rabbit hole that basically led to one conclusion: YALL HAVE PORN ADDICTIONS!!! Now woah, woah hold your horses before you point your pitchforks at me, hear me out. Reading smut every single day isn’t normal, like I’m so sorry to be the one to tell yall this but it’s not normal, like I don’t know. It’s the same way with watching porn every single day, it’s not normal. People tend to think it’s okay because they’re reading it, but that doesn’t make it any better. I know some of yall get off to it and look that’s okay but like when it becomes a daily thing…. I don’t know…. Me personally I don’t get off to smut, I mean I appreciate a smut here and there specifically with an actual plot in the fanfic, but yeah I’m not getting off to it everyday or at all for that matter.

He put his cock in her, he slammed into her, he spat in her mouth, blah, blah, blah it’s all the same thinggg. Even when they like change the au into an office setting, college setting or whatever, it’s still SOO BORINGGG. Some people don’t even do that they just jump right to the sex like damn girl, what happened to hello? How are you?

Now am I shaming you all for liking smut….no, but I am pointing out the fact that many of you potentially probably have porn addictions. Now do I care that many of you may have porn addictions ehh, no but at the same time yeah because I wish yall would write something else other than Gojo, Geto, Eren, Nanami, Toji or whoever the fuck dicking Y/n down on a random ass Saturday night. I really do miss the golden era of fanfics back when Wattpad didn’t have ads. We used to be so great…..💔

Also I’m just salty I can’t find fanfics that I like, woe is me

[gnomewithalaptop]

Y'know, it's so funny to me when people make out like Tim Drake would keep files on how to take down his friends when Tim has explicitly said he disagrees with Batman on this:

[Young Justice (1998) #36]

Like, yes, during his Red Robin tenure he does make a Hit List full of contingency plans for known heroes. But if you go and read that, you'll notice that, while the Justice League and Damian may be on there, Tim's own friends are decidedly absent:

[Red Robin (2009) #14]

In fact, a lot of these heroes are people that have either (a) attacked Tim specifically, (b) have a track record that includes turning evil/getting mind controlled, or (c) are on the JLA (meaning Batman probably already had those files compiled and Tim just stole them).

So yeah: Tim's not down with contingency-planning for his friends. You know which one of the YJ crew DID agree with Batman though? My favorite blorbina Anita Fite, aka Empress:

[Young Justice (1998) #36]

But yeah, this contrast is honestly fascinating to me. Because while both Anita and Tim have been shown to be incredibly loyal individuals, this exchange really highlights the fact that, between the two of them, Anita is far more likely to engage in this kind of pragmatism when she thinks it's necessary to get the job done

The whole Our Worlds at War arc actually does a really good job of illustrating how both of them react to betrayal from within. It's not just the Batman Files conflict either -- I'm thinking specifically about the hallucination-based torture Granny Goodness put them through, which showed them their worst fears. Most of the team ended up having to watch their loved ones die, but what's super interesting to me is that we really only see Anita and Tim hallucinate that their loved ones blame them for their deaths:

[Young Justice (1998) #37]

Like. It's not the same as a teammate turning evil at all. But it does give us a good idea of how they'd both react when faced with a friend or teammate doing harmful things, albeit on a smaller scale. Because where Tim kind of just accepts Superboy yelling at him and moves straight into bargaining for Kon's life, Anita actually flips the script, gets angry, and defends herself against her father:

[Young Justice (1998) #37]

(she actually gets so righteously pissed off that she manages to break out of the VR simulation Granny Goodness had her trapped in, but that's another point)

But yeah, it's super interesting, because by this point, both Anita and Tim have been set up to be very similar characters. They both can be a little bit obsessive, they both have some issues with boundaries and stalking (Tim with Nightwing and Batman, Anita with Cissie), and of the team, they're both portrayed as the "normal" members (Anita does technically have mind control powers but she barely ever uses them, and in a fight, she's basically just a very good, human-level fighter)

But at the end of the day, though Batman forces Robin to put on a cool front of objectivity, Tim (at least in his pre-grief-spiral era) ultimately wants to see the best in his team. When the people he cares about screw up, he wants to give them second chances. And when that trust gets broken, his first instinct is to try to use diplomacy, or, failing that, simply remove himself from the situation (as we see at the end of the Our Worlds at War arc when he quits the team)

Anita, on the other hand, while still incredibly loyal, does not hand out that loyalty unconditionally. We see this when she tries to keep her identity secret from the YJ squad, we see it when she gets pissed in Granny Goodness's hallucination when her father blames her for her mother's death, and we see it when she later blames Secret for her perceived role in Anita's father's death

Anita also happens to sit right smack dab in the middle of the YJ morality scale; while she's generally pretty chill and willing to abide by typical superhero codes of ethics (unlike Slobo and Secret), she's also been shown to bend those rules when she believes it's necessary (as seen here when she tortures and threatens to kill a man for trying to hurt Cissie). Ultimately, what this means is, between Tim and Anita, it's honestly Anita who'd probably be the most willing to put her personal qualms aside, buckle down, and go against her loved ones if it was the only reasonable option

Anyway. This is a really long-winded way of saying I think Gun Batman's biggest nemesis should be Empress

[greentrickster]

SVSSS AU set post-canon, the peak lords are having a meeting, business as usual, right up until a heavenly official manifests smack dab in the middle of it. Said official takes one look around, spots Shang Qinghua, and basically falls into a perfect kowtow in front of him while being a level of distraughtly sticky that would make Luo Binghe proud.

"Your excellency, we know you wanted to oversee this section of history, we know it's your holiday, but we need you back, please, no one can figure out your filing system-!!!"

There is an absolutely reasonable amount of pandemonium from ten of the remaining peak lords, Shen Yuan is feigning indifference while also paying razor-edged attention because 'dammit, Airplane, what did you do now', and Shang Qinghua is desperately trying to figure out how to get this god to stop crying and hugging his ankles while babbling about paperwork. Once everyone has calmed down enough, it's revealed that Shang Qinghua, on top of being Shang Qinghua, really is the creator-god of this world and his current human incarnation is the equivalent of a sabbatical to watch some really interesting current events.

Now, the thing is? Airplane is still very much Airplane, all that's true. The part where it gets complicated is that he really is also this world's creator-god, divine powers and all, and he arrived much earlier than the 40+ years ago he thought he had. He has, in fact, been here for most of the world's history, managing the logistics of things to keep them running relatively smoothly the whole time. Except then he realized, "Hey, we're getting close to the era of the Plot, I wanna see that and maybe fix it some!" So he sealed his own memories from between his death and his arrival in this world and incarnated himself as Shang Qinghua specifically so he'd get a chance to meet his favorite character.

The real kicker is, the System? Yeah, there's a reason it has such a modern-tech interface and sounds so Google translate and stuff.

Because Airplane made that, too. Primarily because, while it's been awhile and he doesn't fully remember how he was as a human, he does remember his tendencies to try and wriggle out of stuff, and even now he prefers a comfy life with a not unreasonable amount of delegation, so he decided to give himself a little something to keep himself on-task.

He did not mean to make the damn thing so mean, that was an oops on his part.

While Airplane is reeling with all the headache that is gaining a few thousand extra years of memories while still remaining primarily himself, one of the peak lords asks if the official is certain they have the right person.

They get a derisive sneer for their efforts. "Of course it's his excellency, you think a normal man could run the logistics for a great sect, the Northern realm, and a portion of the Demon Emperor's court, even without having a writing career and social life on the side? Besides, he's the only one we've found who takes notes in his excellency's secret language." And they point dramatically to where Airplane's scribbled some pinyin in the margins of his paperwork.

Airplane can feel Cumcumber-bro's judgement from across the room. On the plus side, his memories of being a god included how to power down the System, so that's something at least, right?

Right?

...

...he needs to go stick his face in his king's chest and cry for a little, he can just feel his workload increasing...