#they were 15 and for some reason try some weed

[maxdibert]

Severus Snape and Lily Evans as Chandler Bing and Joey Tribbiani from Friends would be totally like:

Lily: What if you saw a three-legged puppy?

Severus: I’d be sad, sure, but I wouldn’t cry.

Lily: Okay, what if the puppy said, “Help me, Severus, all the other puppies pick on me”?

Severus: Cry? I just found a talking puppy! I’m rich!

[lacroixwh0r3]

The First Taste

DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You meet Joel, your dad's best friend, for the first time after your dad begged you to join them at the lake to keep Sarah company. Both you and Joel become fascinated by each other the moment the two of you met.

Warnings: SMUT!!! DUB CON, heavy sexual tension, drug usage (weed only), petnames, age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 21), masturbation (F and M), fingering, voyerism, daddy kink, dom!Joel, Joel is a perv and an asshole, cursing, swimming??, no outbreak

Song inspo (feel free to read if you want): The First Taste by Fiona Apple

PART 2 PART 3

A/N: This takes place four years before Blow My Load, but can be read as a standalone.

Please share, comment, like, and reblog...enjoy lovies! <33

"Dad, I thought it was supposed to be a "boy's trip," and the last time I checked, I am not a boy." You point at your body as you tell your dad. For some reason, he is begging you to come to the lake with him and his friends the day before they leave. "Why won't you just tell me why you want me to go? And maybe I'll give you an answer."

You finally got him to crack.

Your dad let out a defeated sigh as he scratched the back of his head and avoided eye contact. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever bullshit your dad was about to say. "Well, you see, honey, one of the guys couldn't get a babysitter for his kid, and I offered you to keep her company." He winced.

And there it is. The thing he was holding back from you

You let out a sarcastic chuckle. You really couldn't believe this shit. "Are you serious, dad? I refuse to babysit some random kid because you offered me up without even asking me first!" You exclaimed at him. "I don't even know a damn thing about this kid."

"Look, I know it was wrong for me to do that, sweetheart, but I swear Sarah is a good kid. Most of the time she has her headphones in and minds her business." He tries to reason with you, almost pleading with you. You began to feel bad for blowing up on him like that, but it really did piss you off that you had to watch someone else's kid. "I'll even pay you."

This weekend, you planned on doing nothing but self-care. You wanted to do nothing but stay home, watch movies, get a mani and pedi, go get a massage, drink, and maybe even play with the new toy you just bought yourself at Spencers.

You feel yourself giving into your dad; it wasn't the money that made you say yes, but the fact that he always found a way to make you feel bad, even if he didn't mean to do it. "Ugh, fine!" You scoff as you turn to look away from him. From the corner of your eye, you can see his body perk up.

Your dad lets out a sigh of relief, saying, "Thank you so much, sweetheart! You're such a lifesaver; you know that, right?" He slaps your shoulder playfully, causing you to shrug it off and narrow your eyes at him playfully as well.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. How old is your friend's daughter, anyway?" You asked him, unfazed by it all.

"I think she's around 14?" Your dad said cluelessly. "Not too bad, right? I'm sure that you can find something to talk about with her."

It wasn't that bad, but what the fuck would you, a 21-year-old, have in common with a 14–15-year-old girl?

"I guess. I'm gonna start getting my stuff all packed up," You tell him as you turn around to go up to your room.

"Alright, sweetheart, and thanks again!" He exclaims to you as you make your way farther up the steps.

"Yup!" You yell it out dismissively.

As much as you hated the circumstances, you were happy you were finally able to get away for a little bit.

...

It was the next day, and you were tired as hell after only getting four hours of sleep. You had spent all night packing and stressing about what you were going to wear. It wasn't like you were trying to impress anyone, but this was your first time meeting your dad's friends, and you wanted to look decent.

You had left it up to your dad to pack your things into the car as you were too tired to do anything besides shower, put your clothes on, and lay back down for a little until it was time to go. As you lay face down on the bed, knocked out, you heard your dad knock on the door. "Hey, kiddo, are you ready to head out?" He asked you as he stood at the door.

You slowly sit up on your bed as you yawn and stretch your arms over your head. "Yeah, let me just get up and grab my purse and stuff."

"Got it." Your dad says this before turning around and making his way downstairs.

After moments of sitting on your bed, stairing into space, you got up, grabbed your purse, and began to leave your room. However, on your way to the door, you see the pouch that contained your weed and weed paraphernalia. You hesitantly swiped it from your dresser, dropped it into your bag, and went downstairs.

If the men got to have their fun, why couldn't you?

Once you get to the last step, you hear your dad saying bye to someone on the phone before turning to you. "My buddy, Joel, just got to the lake house, so we should start headin' out." He says this as he grabs his keys and motions for you to follow him to the door.

After making sure the security alarm was set and locking the door, the two of you were finally on your two-hour journey to the lake house.

...

You and your dad finally made it to the lake house. It was a three story house that sat on top of a hill, surrounded by nothing but trees.

You and your dad hop out of the car and start bringing your bags to the front door. All of a sudden, the moment you sat the last bag down and brought your fist up to knock at the door, it swung open, revealing a man who looked to be in his early 30s with short, dark, curly hair.

Beside him was a woman with long locs, smiling warmly at you. Meanwhile, the man looked at you with confusion, trying to piece together who you were. You looked familiar to him, but he couldn't put a name to your face.

"Tommy!" Your dad said loudly behind you. You could hear the excitement in his voice as he greeted him. Tommy's eyes moved to look behind you at your dad, and his eyes lit up.

"Oh man, y'all come on in!" He opened the door wider as he and the unnamed woman moved out of the way to allow you to walk in first, followed by your dad. "I'll grab the rest of the bags out there." Tommy says.

Tommy brought the bags in as your dad greeted the lady. "Hey, Maria!" He asked her as he gave her a side hug. "I didn't know you were gonna be joining us this weekend as well."

So that was her name.

"I didn't think I was going to be joining either. Tommy invited me last minute, so I just decided to take some time off of work," She replies back.

They stood near the entrance as they began to get deeper into the conversation, talking about God knows what, leaving you standing there awkwardly as you watched them. You decided to take that moment to observe the room. Even though the house was spacious, it still had a cozy feel to it.

As you were in your own world, your dad gently slapped his hand on your shoulder unexpectedly. "And this young lady right here is my daughter." He smiles at the two as Maria and Tommy turn their attention to you.

"Nice to meet you, kid," He says as he offers his hand to shake yours, which you accept. You shake hands with him before dropping them to your side. Tommy then points to Maria. "This is my wife, Maria."

You shake hands with her as well while you tell them your name. "It's so great to meet you two!" You beam at the couple.

They begin to ask you a series of questions about yourself, such as what university you attended, what your major was, and so on, to which you gladly answer.

However, in the midst of your conversation, your words are abruptly interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. "And here comes my asshole brother, Joel, and my niece, Sarah," Tommy says to you, prompting both you and your dad to look behind you. You can hear Maria let out a loud laugh at Tommy's words.

Your eyes immediately focused on him as he got closer to you, not even paying attention to the fact that his daughter was right behind him as well.

The man named Joel had short, dark, curly hair like Tommy’s; the only difference is that he is a lot shorter, and the roots of his hair were slightly gray at his temples. Joel also had a patchy beard with a thick mustache. He has this rugged and mysterious look to him that completely enraptures you.

He and your dad greet each other, giving a quick bro hug and pulling away. Joel then turns to you, and you feel your hands quiver. His dark, dominant eyes intensify the intimidating aura that surrounds him, yet it still makes him even more interesting to you.

Holy hell, you think to yourself. This man is so fucking fine.

You continued to stare at Joel, saying absolutely nothing, until you realized that he was giving you a confused look as if he were waiting for something. Your eyes darted down, and you realized that he had his hand out, waiting for you to shake it. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you went to shake his hand.

"Joel," was all he said as the two of you shook hands before he let go and discreetly rubbed his hands into his shirt. You could feel yourself shrink with embarrassment as he did this. Not only did he not even give you a chance to introduce yourself, but he wiped his hands after shaking yours.

What a fucking jerk! Tommy was right; he is an asshole.

You quickly snapped out of your feelings when you realized that Sarah was now in front of you. She wore a pink crop top and jean shorts, while her curly hair was placed in a low ponytail.

She suddenly brings you in for a hug with a massive smile on her face, catching you off guard. Nonetheless, you still happily return the hug.

"I'm Sarah. It's nice to meet you!" Unlike Joel, Sarah was a lot more friendly with you. She had this radiant energy to her that made you wonder where she got it from because it definitely wasn't from Joel's grumpy ass. You tell her your name.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Sarah!" I return a smile back to her. She seems like the sweetest 14-year-old you've ever met. "I think we're gonna get along just fine this weekend."

"We sure are!"" She agrees.

"Sarah, sweetheart, how've you been?" Your dad asked her.

As your dad began to talk to Sarah, you decided to check Joel out while he listened to the conversation, occasionally putting in his two cents. Unlike the rest of the group, Joel wore a dark gray shirt, jeans, and some boots.

How is he not hot?

I mean, he is hot, but I meant temperature-wise, you think, causing yourself to let out a low chuckle.

You guess you said that out loud because Joel’s head, along with Maria's, Sarah's, and Tommy's, suddenly snapped over to you with eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Your dad's voice slowly began to fade when he saw the mortified expression on Sarah's face.

"Wait, what happened?" Your dad asked cluelessly as he looked around the group. He was so in his own world that he didn't hear what you said. Thank-fucking-goodness. "Everyone just stopped talking all of a sudden."

"Nothing!" You quickly tell him as you give him a disengenious smile before looking at everyone else. Sarah looked embarrassed for you, as Tommy and Maria still looked shocked. You get a glimpse of Joel as you wince in embarrassment and close your eyes; he had this smug look on his face.

You gathered that Tommy obviously loves to fuck around with people because he let out a stifled laugh, causing his wife to slap his arm and tell him to shut up.

You just wanted to die right then and there. This is now the second time today you've embarrassed yourself in front of this sexy ass man.

Your dad, being the clueless person he is, continues on with whatever he is talking about, not even realizing that no one is paying attention to him. Maria interrupts your dad as she clears her throat to catch your attention. She had a sympathetic look on her face. "Sweetie, your room is on the second floor next to, uh, Joel's, if you wanna get settled in," She offered to you. "We're going to head out to the lake and start putting some things on the grill around 2 or so." You just nodded your head because you were too afraid to speak.

"Hey, Joel?" Tommy looked at his brother with a teasing look on his face. "Why don't you go show her to her room, yeah?" He nods his head in the direction of the staircase.

You wished that you could just punch Tommy across the face at this very moment.

"Umm yeah..." Joel agrees slowly as he gives Tommy a dirty look before glancing at you. "Follow me," You nodded your head and grabbed your purse and other bags. As you followed Joel, the group quietly picked up their conversation again.

Without saying a word to each other, you and Joel arrive in the room. He steps aside, allowing you to enter, and turns around to make his way down the hallway to go back downstairs, but you quickly stopped him before he could get any further. "Hey, I'm sorry about what happened down there." You apologized to him. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything."

Joel just turns around and gives you a small smirk. "Oh, darlin', I'm far from uncomfortable. I'm actually flattered...more than flattered as a matter of fact." He winks at you before departing down the hallway, leaving you shocked.

You were somewhat relieved that Joel wasn't disgusted by you, but it still didn't help with your embarrassment as much as you hoped it would.

You scanned the room, taking in the room that you were going to be spending your weekend sleeping in. The walls were painted a light gray. There was a queen-sized bed that looked really comfortable and had bedside tables on each side as well as a TV, which was mounted onto the wall opposite the bed. There was a door that led to a balcony. You could see an overview of the calm lake and the tall trees. It was a beautiful view.

...

It's been a while since you went downstairs with everyone. You were still so embarrassed by the incident this morning that you decided to spend most of your time scrolling through social media and catching up with your college friends. The only time you came out of the room was to go to the bathroom.

You eventually rolled out of bed and worked up the courage to join everyone.

After changing your clothes that you had on earlier and putting on your swim suit, you slipped on your oversized shirt, put on some waterproof mascara, and put on some lip gloss.

You made sure to grab your sunglasses, put on your flip-flops, and jogged down the steps.

Once you got down there, you realized that Maria was in the kitchen. You headed towards her, quickly greeting her. "Hi, Maria," You say while positioning yourself behind the chairs on the island. She was gathering something that she needed to put outside.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Maria happily greets you back with a smile as she turns her attention to you. "How're you feeling?" She asked you gingerly as she looked at you with sympathy. Her goal wasn't to embarrass you; she truly wanted to know if you were okay after earlier.

You felt yourself begin to get flustered. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." You sheepishly replied. You avoided her eyes, beginning to feel awkward.

"Of course. They're out in the back; you should join them." She points to the sliding door. You just nodded your head and made your way to the door. Before you went out there, you stood there looking outside. You could see Joel's tall figure standing over the grill as he flipped the meat and sipped on his beer.

You felt yourself getting nervous just looking at him.

You then looked and saw your dad helping Joel take the food off the grill and start to place it on the table. Meanwhile, Sarah and Tommy sat at the table, talking to each other. Whatever Tommy had said made them let out loud laughs, causing Joel quickly turned around, let out a chuckle, and shook his head. He then went back to putting things on the rest of the food on the serving platter.

His smile is so gorgeous, it almost takes your breath away.

"Are you going out, sweetheart?" Maria asked behind you, startling you. You had forgotten that she was still here.

You turned to her as you began to stammer over your words and realized that her hands were full with plasticware and plates. "Do you need me to help you take those?" You asked her without even answering her question.

"I do actually," She just looked at you with a questionable look before speaking up again. "Can you just grab the forks and spoons from the top and place them on the table out there, please?" She asked. You grabbed the utensils before turning back around and opening the door.

They didn't notice you at first until Sarah caught sight of you and loudly called out your name as you got closer, causing Joel to look over at you as he closed the grill's top.

"Sarah!" You exclaimed dramatically. Once you reached the table, you sat the plasticware down and went over to sit next to her.

You noticed that her hair was wet and that she was wrapped in a towel. "What've you been up to, girlfriend?" You asked her as you sat down in the seat.

"Nothing much; I just took a quick dip in the lake, and now I am starving," Sarah whined out as she looked over at her dad, who was coming over with the food.

You can hear the sound of Joel's heavy feet approaching behind you and stopping at the free seat at the end of the table, which was next to you. He first put the food in the middle of the table, then plopped himself down. We all began to put things on our plates and begin eating.

Tommy grumbled something about starving, causing Sarah to make a joke about how he was always starving. In reply, Tommy stuck his tongue out at the young girl in a teasing manner.

As Joel ate, he was manspreading under the table. You could feel his hairy, bare leg graze against yours, making you move your leg away. Joel wiped his mouth with the napkin, took a sip of his beer, and looked at you with a blank stare, not saying anything.

You decided to speak up and compliment him on the food. "Joel, this is really good," You smile. Everyone hummed in agreement as they ate.

"Why thank you, darlin'?" Joel says, going back to eating.

...

After eating, we all sat there with our tummies full as we sat around talking about whatever came to mind. That was until Sarah ran into the house without saying a word.

"Oh goodness, that girl." He sat back as he watched his daughter running around the house through the sliding door before running back outside with a box of Uno cards.

"Who wants to play?" She asked the whole table as she ran to her seat and plopped down.

We all agreed. She began to shuffle the cards, dealt them out to everyone, and then set up the game. It first started with you, Joel, Maria, Tommy, then your dad, and lastly Sarah.

Sarah was the first one to get Uno, even though she had the most cards at one point. We all accused her of cheating, which she was quick to deny. No one at the table believed her, especially Tommy and Maria. She just rolled her eyes and helped your dad while he was stuck figuring out which cards to play next.

While the two silently argued about which card was the best, you looked over at Joel and saw that all his cards were showing. You looked around and noticed that no one was paying attention to his cards. Tommy and Maria were sitting there watching your dad and Sarah.

"You're bleedin', Joel," you whisper to him as you point to his card. His face scrunched up with confusion as to what you meant. He looked down at himself and saw no blood.

"What, sugar? I ain't bleedin' anywhere," He said as he tried to recall if he had maybe scraped himself anywhere, but it wasn't coming to him. You couldn't help, but laugh at his confusion.

"It means your cards are showing, Joel." You giggled at him as he chuckled a bit and put his cards up so that he wasn't "bleeding" anymore.

"That's so stupid, who taught you that?" You just shrugged your shoulders at his question and looked back over to see if your dad had finally picked up his card yet.

"Oh my gosh, this isn't rocket science, dad! Just pick a card already!" You exclaimed it, causing everyone to laugh.

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!" Your dad waved you off as he went back to silently arguing with Sarah about which card to choose.

The game got drawn out longer than it was supposed to because every other minute someone (usually Tommy) would start arguing about another person cheating. And in the end, Tommy lost the game.

We put the cards away as everyone except for Maria decided to hang out by the dock and take a swim. She said something about having to get on the phone with a client of hers, but she would come join us when she was done and would bring popsicles.

You and Sarah walked in front of your dad, Joel, and Tommy until you yelled out, "Beat you there!" to Sarah as you both haphazardly ran down the steps to get to the dock.

"You girls, be careful down those stairs now! Don't want y'all gettin' hurt," Joel yells out from behind. The two of you don't respond or slow down; you just keep giggling and running. Joel had to suppress a smile from appearing on his face. It brought him joy to hear how much fun Sarah was having with you.

Once you make it to the dock, Sarah flings off her towel and jumps into the lake with a squiel before she goes under water and floates back up. You quickly kick off your flip flops, throw your sunglasses down, and take off your shirt. Unlike Sarah, you didn't jump into the water, you sat down on the dock and scooched into the water.

Oh, come on! You should've jumped in!" She says this to you as she splashes you with water. You splashed her back.

"I'm too afraid, Sar-bear!" You yelled out to her, and she gasped. The men appeared from the concrete steps just as she did so. Joel dropped the towels in his arms before walking over in front of us, while your dad and Tommy moved to the other side of the dock with their beers and their folding chairs.

"Dad, can you believe that she's too afraid to jump into the water?" Sarah yells out to her dad.

He looked down at you from the dock with his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Really? It's not that scary, sweetheart," He tells you.

"Then how about you get in, Joel?" You say to him without even thinking.

"Yeah, come on, dad. Get in and show her how it's done!" Sarah yells out as she encourages her dad to get in.

You watched Joel as he took off his shoes and shirt, all while keeping his eyes on you. You couldn't help but suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip when he pulled off his shirt. You got a glimpse of his shirtless chest. Joel wasn't the most muscular man, but whatever his job was, it kept him fit, and you loved it. Your eyes quickly scanned over his neck, then his broad shoulders.

Those damn shoulders of his. You wished you could hold onto them as you rode on his co-

Your thoughts were abruptly shattered when Joel took a big leap into the lake, causing a splash of water to hit your face and go up your nose. You tried to make an attempt at turning your head, but it was too late. You coughed as you tried to clear the water from your lungs. As you do so, Joel comes up from beneath the water.

He gasped as he allowed the air back into his lungs and used his big hands to wipe his face. Once he noticed that you were coughing, he quickly swam over to you with a look of concern.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked you as you let out one last cough and nodded your head. He brought his hand up to stroke the side of your head and gave you this tender look before pulling away when he noticed that Sarah was coming over.

If it were just you and Joel on the lake, he would've probably pulled you into his body and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

Even though he had just gotten into the lake, Joel decided to get out before he did something that he would regret.

"Alright, girls. I'm gonna get out now." He says more to Sarah than to you. Once again, you just nodded your head at him. You knew that if you spoke, you'd embarrass yourself again.

"Wha-Dad! You literally just got in." She tries to convince him, but he just shook his head and grabbed onto the rails. He pulls himself up with a grunt and walks onto the dock.

"I'll get back in in a little bit." He dismissed her as he went to get a towel.

Sarah began to say something to you as she swam around you, but you were too focused on Joel to listen to what she was saying. She was too busy talking to notice that you weren't listening. Your attention was stuck on Joel, and his wet shorts stuck to his surprisingly nice ass. He then turns around as he dries off. Your eyes drifted down and widening when you saw his bulge. You were taken aback by the sight.

Oh my god, you thought to yourself.

You looked back up at his face to realize that Joel was already staring at you and smirking while he wrapped the towl around his waist.

Oh fuck!

He obviously saw you staring at his cock because he was fucking smirking.

Joel walked over to have a seat with his brother and your dad. You diverted your attention back to Sarah, acting as if you knew what she was talking about. You just nodded your head a couple of times, and she believed it, but again, your mind drifted.

You were thinking about her dad; snap out of it for Christ's sake.

For the rest of your time at the lake, you refused to look at Joel. And just as promised, Maria finally joined you all about an hour later with the popsicles she said she would bring. Once we ate them, Maria convinced the other adults to have a swim in the lake, to which they all agreed after some groans and pressure from her and Sarah.

...

After spending most of the afternoon outside, everyone went off to do their own thing. Sarah decided to take a shower and then go to sleep while your dad, Tommy, and Maria opted to go out to a bar that a local had told them about, and Joel refused to go out tonight because he said that he was beat from the lake. As for you, you took a quick shower and decided to watch the sunset on the balcony that was connected to your room and smoke.

Before slipping onto the balcony, you grabbed a preroll and a lighter from the pouch, your headphones, and a water bottle from the bed.

When you first got here, you didn't notice that there was a door connected to the balcony that led to Joel's room. However, the sheer curtains were closed, so you could only assume that he was asleep, meaning it was safe for you to smoke without him seeing you. You sat down on the lounge chair, put your headphones on, turned on some music, and began your session.

After two hits of the preroll, you felt the effects of the weed. Your body began to relax, and your eyelids felt slightly heavy. As you continued smoking, you couldn't escape the thought of Joel. You know that he is your dad's friend, and you would never think to go after him, but you have to admit that he is an attractive older man. Just your type.

You barely spoke to him throughout the couple of hours you had been there, yet you could tell the type of man he was. He is very reserved, doesn't speak unless spoken to, and likes to observe. Joel is respectful, but he didn't take shit from anyone. It was very visible that he was protective of not only Sarah but also Tommy.

Everything about him drew you in more and more.

With a few more hits of your preroll, you see a figure standing in the corner of your eye just a few feet away from you, causing you to quickly pull off your headphones and flick the preroll from your fingers and off the balcony. You look over to see Joel watching you with his eyebrows frowned and his hands on his hips. Your eyes widen with shock.

"Shit! I mean, hey, Joel..." You smile up at him awkwardly, trying to seem as sober as possible. "What are you doing out here?" You asked him in a sickly sweet voice. He continues to stare at you before answering.

"I just came out here to check on you. Heard you out here, so I decided to see what you were up to." Joel grumbles as he switches his weight to his other foot.

You prayed that Joel didn't know you were out here smoking weed; your dad would kill you if he heard about you doing this. Little did you know that your attempt would be a complete failure. As soon as Joel walked outside, he could smell the smoke and aroma of weed. He could also see your bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, yknow, nothing much really, just out here enjoying the view and listening to music!" You say this while waving your hand, gesturing to the view in front of both of you. You visibly cringe after this sentence because, even though it was the truth, it wasn't the full truth. He seemed to buy it, so you relaxed a bit.

"Mm, you enjoyed yourself today?" he asked.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun today. Sarah definitely made it fun for me, she's amazing." You admitted to him, and it was true. His daughter was truly a joy to be around.

"Yeah," He laughs out as he looks out at the sunset, his handsome smile threatening to appear on his face. "She's amazing, for sure." He whispers. You can't help but smile at his words. It was refreshing to see that there was someone who was able to crack his hard exterior.

A silence falls over the two of you before he speaks up again. "Y'know, when we were walking back to the car after the lake, she talked about you the whole time. I couldn't shut up about how much cooler you are than Tommy and me." He scoffs as he rolls his eyes playfully and folds his arms to his chest. His confession made you laugh so hard that you couldn't stop, which caused him to laugh as well.

"I mean, she isn't wrong." You teasingly say it to him, causing him to shake his head.

"Yeah-fuckin'-right, darlin'. I can be cool, too."

"Mmhmm.." You reply back to him as you turn your head to look back at the view. However, Joel's eyes remained on you, but you didn't mind too much.

Once again, silence fell over you two. You wanted to look back at Joel, but you knew that if you looked at him in the eyes, your heart would beat out of your chest.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Joel?" You asked him without looking at him.

"What?" Joel asked.

Was he that engrossed in my face that he wasn't even paying attention, or were you not loud enough?

You suppress your laugh as you turn your head to look at him again. "I asked if you enjoyed yourself today." He quickly snaps out of his trance and looks away.

"Oh, yeah, it was enjoyable for the most part, sweetie," Joel sighs out. You said nothing else after this.

You didn't realize it until now, but you were starting to grow tired from the weed. You also wanted a snack.

"Well, I'm going to head back in, maybe fall asleep to a movie or something." You tell him as you grab your belongings, get up from the chair, and walk to the door.

"Alright," He says as he watches every step you take. "And one last thing, darlin'," You stop with your hand on the doorknob and look up at Joel as you wait to hear what he has to say. With a mix of your high and the nervousness you were feeling because of Joel, your heart was pounding out of your chest at this point.

"You don't gotta lie to me, sweet girl. You know that, right?" He says lowly as he motioned to his eyes.

Fuck!

Your body tenses up, and you freeze. You decided to play dumb, even though you were caught. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Joel," You say as you let out a nervous laugh. Your eyes shifted to the ground, avoiding eye contact with Joel like a guilty puppy.

"Oh, no need to play stupid with me, sweet girl; I won't tell your daddy." Something about the way he said these words made you want him so bad; it was almost like he was teasing you.

You felt your walls crumbling, no longer feeling the need to lie to him. "You swear, Joel?" You asked him as you looked at him with pleading eyes.

Joel wished that you would look at him with those pretty eyes while you were on your knees, pleading and begging for him to feed you his cock. In all honesty, he'd give you the world if you asked for it with that look. You made Joel feel something he hasn't felt for a woman in years, and he was willing to do just about anything to have you. However, he could tell you weren't ready for that yet, but he knew in due time he'd have you.

"You have my word, darlin'," He nods his head. "Just don't lie to me again," Joel tells you as he points a finger.

You frantically nod your head in agreement as you bite your lip. "I won't do it again, Joel."

All Joel could think about was how obedient you are, so eager to please him and do as he says. He could feel his cock getting hard in his shorts as he looked at your bare thighs and had these thoughts. Not once did you realize that Joel was checking you out.

Oh, how badly Joel wanted to grab your chin and kiss those lips of yours. He kept reminding himself that he needed to be patient.

"Good." He says before speaking up again. "You should go inside, darlin', maybe get some rest." Joel insisted as he made his way to the door and gave you one last look before walking inside, leaving you outside by yourself.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment as you think about your interaction with Joel. You weren't sure if it was just you thinking too much into the interaction, but you felt like there was some sexual tension between you and Joel.

Any time you're around him, nervousness takes over, and a sense of yearning aches deep in your bones.

You needed him badly.

"Don't," You say to yourself. "Don't fucking think about it." You say it lowly as you try to shake the thoughts out of your head.

Joel is off limits; he's your dad's best friend.

You realized how crazy you must look standing at the door thinking about Joel, so you went inside.

Once you entered the room, you noticed that it was a little too warm in there for your liking, so you decided to leave the balcony door cracked to get some fresh air.

You put your things away, got into bed, and watched a movie on the TV across the room.

...

You weren't sure when you fell asleep, but you did during the movie without even realizing it. You felt very discombobulated, so you sat in the dark for a few minutes. Your clothes felt disgusting on your body as you sweated through them, and your throat was dry.

You quickly got out of bed, slipped off your clothes, got back into bed, and took a sip of the water bottle that lay next to you. During this, you got a glimpse of the digital clock that sat on the bedside table. It read 12:48.

The house was quiet. You were sure that Maria, Tommy, and your dad were back from the bar by now and asleep. Sarah and Joel were probably sleeping as well.

You laid back down on the bed, pushing away the uncomfortable blanket, leaving your body bare. You should have gotten up to close the door because if Joel were to come to your balcony door, he'd surely get a glimpse of your naked body. However, you were still sleepy and a little high, so you lacked the motivation to get up.

It really didn't matter anyway; he's probably still sleeping.

You had laid restless in the bed, constantly flipping the pillows to get the cool side and changing positions, but you still couldn't sleep. You decided to lay on your stomach; it helped you fall asleep sometimes.

You knew one thing that would definitely make you fall asleep, but with a particular someone lingering in your thoughts, it felt wrong. It is completely wrong to have these thoughts about him.

He's way too old for you, and he's your dad's best friend.

Though you tried your best to resist these thoughts, you couldn't help yourself.

Fuck it, it's not like I'm gonna actually fuck him, you think to yourself.

You were suddenly taken back to earlier, when you first laid eyes on him. Those eyes and the curve of his nose. You wanted nothing more than to feel his beautiful nose rub against your clit while he ate you out.

Or when he shook your hands and you felt those thick, rough fingers against your smooth hands.

You were sure that Joel knew how to use them very well.

Subconsciously, your hips had bucked into the bed, trying to get friction onto your clit causing the headboard to hit against the wall ever-so-slightly.

"Shit!" You cursed out loud, hoping that Joel didn't hear. Your heart was pounding at the thought of being caught by him, but your pussy dripped with your wetness.

You waited a couple seconds until you took your hand from underneath the pillow and slowly moved it between the bed and your body, allowing your finger tips to graze against your pussy. You couldn't help but whimper at the feeling. Your arousal ran down your fingers, to your knuckles, and onto the bed.

What you didn't know was that Joel wasn't even in his room; he was sitting out on the balcony. He had been sitting out there for about an hour or so because he couldn't sleep, not with you on his mind, so he decided to sit out there and bore himself to death until he got some sleep. When he first came outside, he checked on you and saw that you were knocked out. The room was dark, and the only thing that brought some light to the room was the bright moonlight reflecting over the lake.

As Joel got up to check on you one last time before he went back to his room, he heard you let out a whimper. He slowly walked to your balcony door so that he wouldn't scare you in case you were having a nightmare, but that wasn't the case at all. Again, Joel heard you let out another noise.

First, you sharply gasped, then moaned out, "Oh, Fuck!"

Joel became more intrigued with whatever was going on in your room because it became very apparent that you weren't having a nightmare. In fact, it didn't even sound like you were sleeping anymore.

Like a thief in the night, Joel peered through the door that was half open. What he saw before him could've brought him to his knees.

You were lying down on your stomach, fully naked on the bed. He noticed that with your right hand, you were touching yourself. Joel wasn't hard before, but he's definitely hard now. He felt as his cock strained against the fabric of his shorts.

Joel knew it was wrong to watch you masturbate without knowing, but he couldn't take his eyes off of you. It had been nearly two years since the last time he had been sexually active, and quite honestly, it was catching up to him at that very moment. He had been so busy with everything in his life that sex was the last thing on his mind until now.

As Joel watched you hump your hips into your fingers, you were imagining a shirtless Joel sat up on the bed, with you sitting in between his legs. Your legs would be wide open, propped up over his, as you allowed his calloused middle and ring finger to collect your arousal from between your folder and rub it into your clit. With his deep Texas accent, he would be whispering into your ear about how much of a good girl you are and how wet you were for him. Your head would be laid on his sexy, broad shoulders as your eyes rolled with pleasure. You imagined that as he played with your clit, his other hand would touch your breast and quickly tweak your nipples as they continued going up and firmly wrapping around your neck.

You were so caught up in your thoughts and pleasure that you hadn't realized that you were moaning out Joel's name.

"J-Joel, please," You quivered out quietly enough so that you weren't too loud, but loud enough for Joel to hear. "I'll be good, p-please, daddy." You followed up.

Even though you thought that Joel was in the next room over (which he wasn't) and there were other people in the house, you still continued to touch yourself as the headboard faintly knocked against the wall.

Yet you were so blissfully unaware of it all. So unaware of the fact that Joel was standing right outside the door, watching you rubbing yourself completely nude, and unaware that Joel had pulled his cock out while he watched and listened to you.

Joel didn't care that what he was doing was wrong. He didn't care that watching you, this freshly 21-year-old, masturbate without your knowledge was bad.

The sounds of your panting, moans, and dirty talk made him want to walk right into the room and give you the pleasure you needed.

Joel has always been a selfish lover when it came to the bedroom; he liked to be the one who was dominant and always took control. He could tell you needed someone like him to fulfill your desires—not some foolish 20-something year old, but a real man.

As you continued to grind against your fingers, Joel saw how your ass moved back and forth. He wanted to spank you for being such a naughty girl. Touching yourself without asking for his permission. He would remind you that only slutty, bad girls did that.

He jerked his cock at the same speed as your hips moved. "Oh my god, daddy!" You moaned into the pillow, causing it to be muffled. The thrusting of your hips had sped up. You were on the cusp of cumming, but that changed when you suddenly pulled your hands from between your legs and got up to change positions.

You were now lying on your back with your legs bent up to your chest as far as they could go. Using the hand you just used to grind up against, you bring your middle and ring fingers to your mouth. You began to suckle on them intensely, pretending they were Joel's fingers. You could taste yourself as you did so.

A minute later, you pop your fingers out of your mouth and bring them down to your pussy. As you sink your fingers inside yourself, you can feel the wetness, allowing you to slip deeper into your tight hole. You squirmed as you felt a little discomfort due to your fingers. You decided to slowly thrust your fingers in and out, allowing yourself to get used to the feeling. With your free hand, you brought it up to your mouth to muffle your soft whines.

Oh, my baby, she can barely take her own fingers, Joel thought as he watched you.

To Joel's surprise, you still didn't see him standing by the door, hastily jerking himself off at the sight of you. It wasn't like he was being discreet about it either. He was almost fully through the door at that point. Your eyes were closed as you fingered yourself.

Finally, you were able to adjust to your fingers. As you picked up the speed, Joel could hear the wet, slick sounds coming from your pussy all the way across the room. Hearing this only heightens the pleasure for him.

"Joel, I'm-oh my god-I'm gonna cum!" You moaned lowly.

Joel wanted to be the one to make you cry, but he knew he couldn't at that moment.

Your messy wetness had allowed your fingers to go deeper inside, causing you a certain spot. Your legs shuddered as your finger tips grazed the spot. In a 'come here' motion, you continued to hit the spot over and over again. "Fuck! That's it, baby. Keep going just like that." You purred out.

Joel convulsed at the way you said these words. He was ready to cum at any moment, but he wanted to cum with you.

With his hand still rapidly moving up and down his length, he finally heard your release.

"Yes! I'm cumming all over your fingers, Joel!" You moaned a little louder this time. Joel could hear you breathing hard as you continued to ramble about how good it felt.

Instantly, Joel was cumming. He withheld his groans and grunts as the hot cum hit the palm of his other hand. Instead, he was breathing hard through his nose, hoping to God that you couldn't hear him.

Finally, your orgasm began to die down. "Oh my god," You sighed out blissfully, as you pulled your finger from your pussy. Your legs moved from your chest and you dropped down on the bed. You were still trying to catch your breath. With his mind still cloudy from cumming so hard, when Joel saw you move your legs, he thought that you were going to get off the bed, causing him to panic and move away from the door so that you couldn't see him.

You could feel the cum webbing between your two fingers. You decided that you wanted a look, so you opened your eyes and brought your hand close to your face. You could see the bright moonlight illuminate your cum. You'd never come so hard. Not with any of your hookups, let alone when you masturbated.

You felt spent after that, but you needed to get up to clean yourself off. You decided to rest your eyes a bit before getting up, but without even realizing it, you had dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

Less than five minutes later, Joel heard light snores coming from your room, so he decided that it was safe to look again. You were dead to the world. Joel saw your limp hand hanging off the bed—the same one you had used to fuck yourself with. He could see the wetness gleaming on your fingers. He wanted to come over them and suck your cum off of your fingers, but he stopped himself.

The post-nut clarity had hit Joel, and he realized that he must've looked like a creep with his cock out while he watched you sleep. So he closed your balcony door and headed back into the house to wash the cum from his hands.

Joel knew that he would have you one day; it didn't matter how long it took for him to get you. He would get you right where he wanted you eventually.

...

You woke up feeling like a brand new person that morning. Your limbs felt loose, and you felt like you could conquer the world.

You could feel the sun on your naked body as you rose out of bed to stretch. The sounds of people moving around let you know that everyone was awake.

You suddenly realized that the balcony door was now closed. You don't remember getting up to clean yourself, and you definitely don't remember ever getting up to close the door.

Realization had hit you hard, and your heart dropped.

Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

There was no way anyone could have come into your room because you had locked the bedroom door. However, Joel had access to the shared balcony.

He was the only one who could've closed that door.

Whatever, you were going to enjoy yourself this weekend and act like nothing happened.

=============================================

A/N: I had a lot of trouble writing this for some reason, but next one is going to be a lot better. I got so much planned already hehe

[loseractivities]

What’s your headcanons for stuilly as kids???🤨

thanks for asking!!!! fjahdjshhshshshdhdhshs

i love childhood stuilly sooo fucking much. ok for starters

- they met in kindergarten

- stu was the class clown and well liked by students but since billy rarely talked or engaged with others he had no friends other than stu

- despite this stu was mostly the one clinging to billy and trying to get him talking

- billy was extremely reluctant to the idea of a sleepover because of his routine (watching movies and falling asleep alone or near his mom)

- but after stu persuaded him the first time they kept having sleepovers.

- billy yapped and yapped about movies when he realized he could talk to stu and he would actually be interested. autism

- billy kills stus pet hamster. or fish. or both. havent decided. he just at some point "accidentally" kills it by flushing it down the toilet or something

- stu is the one that introduces billy to hunting, weapons, etc. billy of course gets too into it

- oh yea, i think stu's parents send him to a christian camp for the summer. when stu first meets billy stu has no filter and will not shut up about him and stu's parents do NOT take that well

- overall i just live for the concept of them being freaks, like billy staring off into space or poking road kill or something while stu rambles about odd shit

- oh and of course the polaroid headcanon. stu for sure gets a polaroid camera that he eventually has to share with billy and they take pictures of each other. i think billy kept a lot of photos from when they were younger, stu ends up losing or misplacing them

- i think with the first girlfriend stu gets billy gets unreasonably angry with him and refuses to talk to him for at least a week. until he learns thats not normal behavior and has to stop doing that

- not so fun headcanon imo billy calls stu the f slur consistently throughout their friendship. at first stu is genuinely hurt by it but then it just blurs along with all the other insults billy doesn't actually mean

- stu started smoking weed around 14 (dont ask how he got it) and billy started smoking cigarettes at 15 (dont ask how he got it)

- when billy was younger since his mom was mostly dressing him he's dress kinda preppy and with neatly done hair and stuff. he didnt hate it or anything, but when he was 15 or so he got more into grungy stuff

- stu was the one that pierced billy's ears, billy pierced stu's. at 15 too maybe

- ive said this before i think but billy was an extremely picky eater and refused to eat anything "new" when he was little

- they would carve things into trees

- billy cried a lot when he was like 2-7

- stu would purposefully hurt himself or others for attention and play it off as an accident

- stu was (and is) very impulsive and takes a lotttt of risks for seemingly no reason other than taking a risk

- billy was extremely competitive

- on the school bus even if it was completely empty they would sit right next to each other

- like a literal dog stu used to pretty much tackle billy into the ground because he would be so happy to see him. he fortuntely somewhat grew out of that habit

thanks thats all for now but im sure theres more in my brain that i cant think of atm

[rambleonwaywardson]

First Christmas

A Clegan Astronaut AU One Shot

Summary: Takes place ~15 years before To the Moon and Back, at the very start of Gale and John's life together. It's the end of their first semester of college, and they're leaving for winter break. John takes Gale home with him for Christmas.

Author's Note: I have no concept of if I'll ever write a prequel or if anything pre-TTMAB will be confined to little one shots like this. But here's a small something. Happy holidays ❤

---

“Fuckin’ finally!” Bucky sighs dramatically as he tosses a suitcase onto the bed. Gale’s bed, actually, since his is the lower bunk in their too-small-for-two-grown-men dorm room. With little to no rhyme or reason, Bucky starts pulling clothes out of his small dresser and even smaller closet – jeans and sweatshirts and sweaters and mismatched socks. He tosses them into or around the suitcase in a haphazard way that would never lead a single person to believe that he was in ROTC. 

It’s the end of their very first finals week, and John and Gale both have just stumbled back into their dorm room after a hell of a physics exam. No final, they have decided, under any circumstances, should be scheduled for 4-6pm. Especially not one as hard hitting as fucking physics. First year engineering students are exhausted enough as it is – it’s cruel and unusual punishment to expect them to perform well under these circumstances.

They don’t call it a weed-out class for nothing.

“My brain is mush,” Bucky complains. “I don’t think I was even readin’ right by the end of that exam. None of the numbers made sense anymore. Hell, I could barely remember the kinematics equations. I’m sure you were just fine. Me? Let’s just… hope and pray I even make a passing grade.”

Bucky pauses long enough to glance over at Gale, who’s sitting casually in his desk chair, twisted around with his elbow propped on the back and his chin in his hand as he watches the spectacle that is his roommate. He kind of smiles tiredly at Bucky and shrugs, and that’s all Bucky needs to go on. He knows he’s right. No doubt Gale barely batted an eye at the questions that had Bucky drumming his fingers on the too-small lecture hall desk in a panic. 

“What’s done is done,” Bucky says, shoving clothes into the suitcase with zero organization. It almost makes Gale physically wince. Like most teenage boys, he’s not always the most organized guy in the world himself, but there’s something to be said for keeping some semblance of tidiness. That, and his father raised him like a military man. Clean room, neat corners, smooth fabrics… He has half a mind to shove Bucky over and pack for him, save his nicer shirts from the criss-crossed creases that are sure to form the way they are now. He also wonders if he should bother telling Bucky that he actually found the exam hard, too. Would that comfort him or would he think Gale was just trying to make him feel better?

Bucky doesn’t notice Gale’s general air of consternation. He’s too busy trying to move on, move forward with his life, get away from here. Gale tries not to take it personally. Just because he has nowhere to go doesn’t mean Bucky can’t be eager to leave for break, like every other student on campus. 

“God, I can’t wait to get outta here,” Bucky says, like he’s read Gale’s mind. He really should’ve packed last night like Gale urged him to, instead of waiting until the very last minute and just hoping he remembers everything he needs, but he was too hyper-focused on trying not to fail the exam today. “Gonna see my dog, my family. Eat a real home-cooked meal.” He stops his frantic packing and looks up at the ceiling, inhaling as if he can smell Christmas dinner or a batch of snickerdoodle cookies. “Five weeks of not having to think about any of this. Can’t fuckin’ wait, Buck.”

Bucky steps back over to his dresser and grabs some underwear, which he dumps into the suitcase, and then his hands freeze. He looks over at Gale, squinting. His roommate is still sitting at his desk, which is adorned with books and notes, a model plane, a small model of the solar system. He’s a little more slumped now, eyes trained on the floor. Bucky stares at him for a while without him noticing. 

Bucky realizes that, even though he urged Bucky to pack, Gale hasn’t made any move to pull out a suitcase of his own. Hasn’t set out any neatly folded clothes to stow away for a trip home. He hasn’t expressed any relief to be leaving this college town, to be heading back to his family, or to anyone at all. 

He thinks about the very little Gale has ever talked about his family. Small anecdotes here and there. His mother is gone, Bucky knows. No siblings, just his best friend Marge. He doesn’t talk much about his dad. He wonders if Gale even has a dog. 

“Hey.”

Gale looks up, blinking away some deep thought that he masks behind an arched eyebrow and tired but curious eyes. He motions to Bucky’s suitcase. “Your clothes are gonna get all wrinkled like that.”

Bucky glances at his scrambled luggage, scrunches his brow, decides it doesn’t matter, and he looks back at Gale. He doesn’t really know how to ask this delicately. Delicacy has never been part of the John Egan repertoire of charm. Neither has subtlety. He frowns and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You, uh… you’re not goin’ home are ya Buck?”

Gale shakes his head quietly. “Don’t got much of a home to go to.” His voice shakes a little, like he doesn’t want to be saying this, like he’s embarrassed to admit it. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a wry smile as he looks at the floor again, and Bucky catches the incorrect grammar, the little slip into a western drawl that he’s learning only comes out when Gale is stressed or upset or really fuckin’ tired.

“Why didn’t ya say?”

Gale shrugs and kicks his shoes off, leaving him in socked feet, a final, decisive move that confirms it: he’s not going anywhere. 

Bucky leans against the post of their bunk bed, crossing his arms. “So, what? You’re stayin’ here? Alone?” Bucky can’t stand the idea of staying on this campus when it’s a ghost town, none of their friends around and limited access to the dining halls. He can’t stand the idea of staying here for any longer than he has to.

But he has somewhere to go.

Gale nods. “Yep. Got the approval and all.”

“No,” Bucky finds himself saying. He doesn’t even take a second to think about it.

Gale almost scoffs. “Don’t got much choice, John.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You can’t stay here alone, Gale. I won’t let you do that.”

“S’not a big deal.” Gale turns away, towards his desk. Too deliberately, he starts peeling sticky notes of definitions and physics diagrams off the wall. The result of hours and hours of studying. 

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?” Bucky pushes. He marches across the room – two whole steps across their tiny dorm – so he’s standing beside Gale’s desk, close enough to be in his line of sight again. He reaches out and puts a hand on Gale’s, stopping him from unnecessarily shuffling his notebooks around his desk.

Gale freezes. “I’ll be fine,” he whispers, his eyes locked on their hands. He doesn’t really mind the idea of being alone on campus. It’ll be quiet, peaceful. He can catch a bus to the grocery store or the movie theater or head downtown. He can read and study and keep up with his exercise regimen. Go for walks around campus. Really, it’s fine… He’d rather be here, after all, than spend five weeks in the same house as his father. He’ll miss Marge, sure. But she’ll forgive him. She wouldn’t want him to go home either. 

“Gale.”

“It’s fine, John.”

They sit in a tense silence, Bucky hardly aware he’s still holding Gale’s hand and Gale hyper-aware of it. Bucky’s fingers are warm compared to his. They’re softer than he’d expect. He likes the contact. It sends something fluttery through him. 

“Come with me.”

Gale’s eyes shoot up to Bucky’s. “What?”

Bucky nods, squeezing Gale’s hand tighter. “Come with me! You can- you can just come home with me. Mom will take good care of you, and we can just relax and have fun for a few weeks. Buck…” Bucky sighs. He smiles, and Gale doesn’t quite like the look of sad pity hidden behind it, but it’s sweet enough to make his heart beat too fast anyway. “You can’t be alone for Christmas. Please.”

“I-I couldn’t.”

“No one will mind. They’ll love you more than me, even. Adopt you like another son.”

Gale looks again at Bucky’s suitcase. His chest swells with the idea of spending Christmas with a family. With John. With people who don’t smack him around if he burns the pancakes or asks the wrong questions or sleeps in too long. 

Bucky grins and ruffles Gale’s hair. “Yep. You’re comin’. Come on, we leave in an hour. Get your suitcase out.”

— 

Gale doesn’t cry the first time he walks through the front door of the Egan household. It’s a stereotypical farmhouse, with a simple but lovely exterior, a stone front walk, and a fresh Christmas wreath hanging on the front door. There’s a dog watching them through the window, and, not for the first time, Gale wonders about the difference between a house and a home. He shuffles in, shy and awkward, behind a boisterous Bucky, who flings the door open and loudly calls out “we’re here!” with such a lack of decorum that it makes Gale flinch, his brain still wired to the house in Wyoming. 

“Hi honey!” A light voice drifts through the house, and it’s not unlike Gale’s mother’s voice. The way he remembers it, at least. 

That, combined with the smell of cookies baking in the kitchen, shoves a lost memory to the surface of tugging on his mother’s skirt until she offered him a spoon of raw cookie dough. It has him so taken aback that he doesn’t notice the dog running at him until it’s too late. He nearly gets knocked off his feet by the force of two big golden paws colliding with his torso, causing him to stumble back a step, wide eyed. 

“Down boy!” Bucky reprimands, but he’s laughing, his commands futile. “That’s Buzz. He likes people.”

Gale can’t help but smile despite his nerves, and he kneels down to the dog’s level, scratching his ears and letting Buzz lick his face. He manages to just barely keep his balance against the way the golden retriever surges toward him. “Buzz Aldrin?” He asks, trying to avoid the dog’s tongue as he glances at Bucky, and he can’t quite understand the look in his roommate’s eye. 

“Finally!” Bucky says. “Someone who understands that it isn’t Buzz Lightyear.” Then he yells out, “Ma?”

A short middle-aged woman comes frantically around the corner, and Gale shoots to his feet, trying to smooth out his sweater and jeans again. He tries to remind himself to hold his head high, shoulders straight, make a good impression.

Without even a second thought, though, the woman bypasses her own son, her eyes landing right on Gale. No appraisal, no critical eye toward what he’s wearing or if his hair is too shaggy. She just beams at him, reaching her hands out to immediately pull him into a hug. “You must be Gale.”

Gale awkwardly returns the hug. “Yes ma’am.”

He does not cry at the feeling of a warm, motherly figure who smells like cookies wrapping him in her arms. 

When she steps back, she rests her hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm's length. It seems a little awkward with how tall Gale is, even if Bucky won’t let him forget the small size difference between them. He finds it amusing how, with Bucky being even two inches taller than he is, his mother can’t surpass 5 foot 4. But Mrs. Egan doesn’t seem to mind, and Gale wonders how often she does this to her own son.

She looks him up and down, studying him, and Gale tries not to feel too embarrassed or nervous. Stand up straight, he reminds himself. He’s military after all. It shouldn’t be hard. He braces for some critique, some conclusion that he isn’t good enough. For what, he isn’t sure. To be here, perhaps. But it doesn’t come. 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” Mrs. Egan gushes instead, shaking her head fondly. She lifts one hand even higher to cup his cheek, and Gale raises an eyebrow, letting himself smile back at her. 

“Thank you?”

“Ma, you’re embarrassing him,” Bucky groans. He’s never seen Gale blush so much.

She shoots a glare over at him before looking back at Gale. She squeezes his shoulder gently. “We are just thrilled to have you,” she says. “John talks about you all the time, you know.”

“Oh,” Gale says. He looks over at Bucky, who is rubbing a hand over his eyes in exasperation. Gale’s smile gets a little wider, a little less meek. “Thank you so much for letting me join you for the holidays,” he tells Mrs. Egan. “It means a lot.”

Bucky’s mom gives him another quick hug before turning her attention to her son, hugging him tight and bombarding him with questions about school that Bucky insistently avoids, saying they can talk about everything later, after he helps Gale settle in.

—

Gale doesn’t cry over the way the Egans move mountains to make sure he feels comfortable and welcome in their home. 

They set him up in the guest bedroom, which is just one door down from Bucky’s room, which is not unlike his half of their dorm room with the exception of several more remnants of a happy childhood. Bucky’s bedroom is adorned with space travel posters and baseball posters, and Gale can even see where some are missing – the ones Bucky chose to take with him to college. There are little gold baseball trophies lining a bookshelf in the corner, and a photo of him and a couple of his teammates in high school, boyish grins on their faces and sweat soaking through their hats, fresh off a championship win. 

Gale wanders around the room when Bucky leads him inside, inspecting the trophies and the photographs. There’s a lego set of the Saturn V rocket, glow in the dark stars pasted to the ceiling, stacks of books about history and science and adventure strewn around the bed and the desk. All the little pieces of John Clarence Egan, a whirlwind force of nature with his eyes on the unknown. 

There’s a dog bed on the floor for Buzz, but the dog takes to jumping up on the bed in the guest room instead, keeping Gale company every night. 

Bucky wonders what it is about dogs that help them know which people need a little extra love.

Gale marvels at the fact that even the guest bedroom feels homey and cared about. The queen sized bed is the biggest bed he’s ever slept in, with a nice mattress, a selection of pillows, and warm blankets. There are original paintings hung along the walls, beautiful images of the forest and the lake and countryside done by some mysterious artist. There are family photos framed on a bookshelf which is filled with an assortment of books, from science to romance and everything in between. There’s even a string of Christmas lights strung around the room, which Bucky turns on for Gale, looking all giddy about it.

Gale doesn’t cry over how Bucky is patient and kind in a way that isn’t exactly unexpected but also isn’t exactly expected. He lets Gale cling to him, whether it’s sitting down for dinner with the family or hiking through a snow-dusted countryside to watch the sun set or sitting sprawled out on the living room couch with a couple of good books and mugs of hot chocolate. Bucky asks Gale if he needs any extra blankets, and he’s gathering them up from the closet before Gale can even answer. He asks Gale what he likes to eat for breakfast, and the next morning Gale’s favorite cereal is in the pantry and there’s even some fresh pastries – which Gale never would have dreamed of asking for – sitting on the counter. Bucky asks Gale if there’s anything he wants to read, and the next day the book he sheepishly mentioned has appeared on the coffee table. 

He brags about Gale to his parents, telling them all about how smart he is and how much he’s helped Bucky this semester. He tells them about how Gale is already excelling in the toughest major in the school all while impressing everyone in ROTC, keeping Bucky in line, and being a humble, easy going guy to boot. 

Gale doesn’t cry when Mr. Egan expresses genuine interest in all of his astronomy and physics knowledge at the dinner table. Gale’s own father always wanted him to be a pilot. He never cared much for the rest of it.

He thought academics made his son too soft. 

Mr. Egan tells Gale it’ll make him unstoppable. 

—

Gale doesn’t cry when he accidentally drops a glass of water in the Egans’ kitchen, sending it shattering across the tile floor in a splash of crystal constellations. He comes damn close, a hot wave of panic rising in his chest at the same time that biting pain blossoms across his skin. His cheeks heat up as he blinks rapidly and tries to figure out how to go about cleaning up this mess all the while bracing for some kind of punishment. And those tears sure come close to actually falling when Mrs. Egan whisks into the kitchen with worry all over her face, wanting to know what the racket was. When she sees the mess, she reaches for Gale. Gale winces, closing his eyes, but all he gets is a firm, guiding hand on his shoulder, accompanied by a gentle voice. “Oh honey, you’re bleeding.”

Gale blinks his eyes open, the tension on his face beginning to drop away as he looks down and realizes all of a sudden that his feet are bare. He doesn’t remember his feet being bare. He vaguely wonders if the red on his pale skin is associated with the stinging feeling in his foot, radiating up to his ankle. 

“Don’t move quite yet,” Mrs. Egan says. Her hands are still on the sides of his arms, keeping him standing in one place. “Don’t want you stepping on any sharp bits.” She turns as John comes rushing around the corner. “Johnny, can you get Gale some shoes to-“

Before she can even finish, Bucky, clad in old ragged Converse himself, marches right up to Gale, flakes of glass crunching under foot, and plucks him out of the center of the debris. Just picks him up in the air like he weighs no more than a feather before marching him to the kitchen entryway and plopping him down. Gale stares at him in shock, his brain not quite catching up with everything that just happened. 

“I’ll get the vacuum,” Bucky says to his mother, but he’s looking at Gale as he says it, some sort of mischievous little smile on his face, and Gale feels his cheeks turning pink again. 

When Bucky leaves the kitchen in search of the vacuum, Gale tries to step away from the wall he’s been placed next to, holding a hand out toward Bucky’s mother. “Mrs. Egan, I can clean-”

“Nonsense.” She waves her hand dismissively, then looks down at his feet, still bare. “You stay right there until John comes back with the vacuum.”

“I’m so sorry about the glass. I didn’t mean-”

“Gale, darling. I don’t give a damn about the glass.” She steps over to him and clasps one of his hands between both of hers. He doesn’t cry at how genuine and concerned she looks. “Let’s get your foot cleaned up and make sure you don’t need any stitches.”

—

Gale doesn’t cry when, on Christmas morning, as all the presents under the tree are being handed out, there’s a few with his name on them. He, John, and Mr. and Mrs. Egan are gathered in the living room, all still in their pajamas. Even Buzz, who can’t seem to sit still and has been making rounds around the room with his tail wagging, has a green and red Christmas bandana around his neck. He keeps stopping to look at the stockings above the fireplace, where he has his very own, filled with dog treats that he has to wait until the end to get. 

Bucky, who is passing out the gifts from under the tree, is wearing a Santa hat along with his gray sweatpants and blue Yankees sweatshirt. Gale laughs a little bit every time Bucky makes any sudden move and causes the pom pom on the end of the hat to whip around. Bucky tried to put it on Gale, but was adamantly shoved away. It looks far better on him anyway.

Gale, in green and gray flannel pants and a dark gray university sweatshirt, is sitting on the floor beside the Christmas tree, where Bucky said he himself usually sits. He tries not to ask for the third time if Bucky is sure he doesn’t want any help. Having found himself increasingly comfortable with the Egans over the last week, he instead scratches Buzz behind the ears and laughs as Mr. Egan sings along to the Christmas music playing on the radio. He doesn’t really know what he expected out of this morning – being included is enough; being with a family on the biggest holiday of the year is enough.

So when, once all of the gifts have been passed out, Bucky stands in front of Gale with a stack of wrapped boxes, Gale just blinks dumbly up at him. When Bucky insistently shoves the collection of gifts at him, Gale looks around the room, then starts to shake his head in confusion as his hand falls away from Buzz’s soft fur. “A-Are these for me?” he asks, genuinely confused as he takes the small stack from Bucky and stares down at the name tag on the top package. 

“That’s your name ain’t it?” Bucky teases. He takes his seat between Gale and the tree, where he’s amassed his own collection of presents.

Gale nods and looks over at him, eyebrow raised. Bucky tilts his head toward his parents, who are sitting cuddled up on the couch, watching with kind smiles on their faces.

“Couldn’t leave you with nothin’ to open on Christmas morning,” Mr. Egan insists. “You’re family, now.”

Gale swallows thickly, tracing his finger over his name, written in neat script. “Thank you,” he says quietly, and he’s worried it didn’t come out at all.

“Well you better open one,” Bucky laughs. He’s sitting so close their shoulders nearly brush. “Youngest goes first.”

Gale tears into the pretty red and white wrapping paper of the first gift. He feels his heart beat too fast in a terrifying but exhilarating way as he peels back the paper, revealing a beautiful, hardcover edition of A Brief History of Time, complete with illustrations. It’s the exact type of book that he would have stared at longingly in a bookstore, knowing he’d probably never have it. He looks up at John’s parents, who are watching him eagerly, and he doesn’t cry at the joy on their faces or the kindness of the gesture. “This is amazing,” he tells them. “Thank you so much.”

He’s so taken with the book, staring down at it and running his fingers gently along its spine, that he barely registers the new video game John gets, or Mr. Egan’s new sweater, or Mrs. Egan’s new romance book. It’s only when they circle back to him, Bucky shoving another gift into his hands, that he really comes back to himself, and he wonders what he did to deserve such kindness.

By the time they’re on their final gifts – Gale had been told to save a specific one for last – Mrs. Egan stops him and Bucky before they can start unwrapping. “Now, Gale, we have a tradition,” she explains. She points to the Christmas tree. “Every year, we each get a new Christmas ornament, and we hang them on the tree. There are ornaments up there from almost every year of John’s life.”

Gale looks at John, then back at the tree. This piece of knowledge runs through his head again, and again, and his eyes fall back to the last little box, wrapped in silver snowflakes. He blinks at it. “Is this-”

Gale almost flinches when Bucky’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, but he doesn’t. The touch has become familiar. He knows it’s safe. “We got you one, too,” Bucky whispers, and Gale nods.

Bucky slowly unwraps his own ornament, and Gale starts to follow his lead. He watches Bucky pull out a little astronaut with a gold visor, sitting on a crescent moon. And oh so carefully, Gale’s fingers loop through a gold string, and he lifts out a matching astronaut, this one with a blue visor, sitting on a crescent moon of its own.

“Would you look at that.” Bucky grins, and he bumps Gale’s shoulder as they hold their ornaments up beside each other.

“Thank you,” Gale finds himself saying again, and he wonders if his voice sounds thick to anyone else. He doesn’t even comprehend the fact that he’s standing up, stepping over to Mrs. Egan. She readily accepts his hug, though, and she lets him cling on, the astronaut resting against the back of her shoulder where it’s clutched in his hand. 

He and Bucky hang their ornaments side by side, two little astronauts shooting for the moon.

—

Gale doesn’t cry later that morning, when Mrs. Egan places a stack of blueberry pancakes in front of him and tells him that John mentioned those were his favorite.

He doesn’t cry that afternoon, when Mr. Egan asks to take a look at that book, or when Mrs. Egan asks if he wants to help her with the final batch of Christmas cookies, or when Bucky tries to teach him how to play his new video game.

He doesn’t cry when they ask if he wants to watch a Christmas movie with them, and he finds himself curled up on the couch munching on a cookie with Bucky’s head on his shoulder and Buzz splayed across his lap.

He doesn’t cry at dinner, when Mr. Egan includes him in his prayer, asking the lord to watch out for both of “their” boys.

He doesn’t cry when Mrs. Egan says goodnight to them both late on December 25th, gently kissing the top of Bucky’s head, and then doing the same to Gale.

He holds it together pretty well, he thinks. He laughs, and he finds himself smiling, a warm feeling trying its best to settle in his chest as the good and the bad memories go to war with the perfect reality he’s been met with today. He pushes down the lump in his throat and lets himself, just for a little bit, feel loved and cared for and protected. He loves them all back. He lets himself act like he could be a part of the family, even if he doesn’t quite believe it.

—

Late on Christmas night, after his parents have gone to bed, Bucky steps quietly into the hall and creeps toward the guest room like a child up past his bedtime. He knocks on the door with one knuckle, listening closely.

“Come in.” Gale’s soft voice sounds off, a little uneven. Bucky frowns as he turns the knob and pushes the door open.

Gale is curled up at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard with his knees pulled to his chest, his pillow laid neatly on top of the one beside him. Buzz, having officially traded Bucky in for Buck, is sprawled on his side with his head resting on Gale’s bare foot, right over the bandage from the water glass incident yesterday. The lights are off, and Gale is staring up at the colorful Christmas lights lining the room, as if it’s a sky full of stars.

“Buck?”

“Mmm?”

Bucky walks around to the side of the bed. It’s only when he gets close that he really notices: Gale’s been crying. His eyes are red, his cheeks flushed, his hair messy. When he lifts a hand to rub at his face, Bucky notices that he has the sleeves of his shirt wrapped around his fists, wet spots marking the fabric. 

What’s wrong? Bucky wants to ask. Are you okay? Why are you crying? Did I do something? Do you need anything?

He doesn’t ask any of those questions. 

He shoves the pillows down next to the dog and climbs into the bed, settling back against the headboard so close to Gale that their shoulders touch, his legs crossed in front of him. Buzz stretches his head forward to lick his knee, and he reaches out to stroke the dog’s head in return. 

“He reminds me of my dog,” Gale says. “He was a mutt, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Dunno if I’ll ever see him again.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. Neither of them are looking at each other, both of their eyes trained on Buzz. “Why not?”

Gale takes a deep, sharp breath as his whole body tenses, and Bucky worries it was the wrong thing to say. They sit in silence as the seconds tick by. “I haven’t had a Christmas this nice since Mama died…” Gale finally says, something like nostalgia, or maybe resignation twisting through his voice. Sometimes, the line between those two is quite thin. “Well. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a Christmas this nice.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say something, closes it again. What is he supposed to say? He thinks he’s put enough pieces together over the last few months to understand a bit about his roommate’s home life since his mom died, but Gale’s never said a thing about it out loud. 

Gale shrugs uncomfortably in response to Bucky’s silent question, which hangs in the air between them without any words being spoken at all. “Dad wasn’t a… well… I-I guess…” His breath shakes. Bucky presses closer against Gale’s side, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. Gale sinks his weight into the hold, and Bucky finally looks directly at him when he hears quiet sniffling, feels Gale’s fingers latch onto the front of his shirt. 

“I don’t plan to ever go home again,” Gale says quietly. His face twists into something angry and sad, but he fights against the expression like he doesn’t want Bucky to see how he’s feeling at all. Bucky wonders if it’s the first time Gale’s ever said this out loud, the first time he’s let such an idea be heard by the world. He wonders how long Gale’s been thinking about it in silence. Days? Weeks? Months? Maybe since the moment he closed the door behind him when he left for college. 

“I’m not goin’ home,” Gale says more firmly. “I… I don’t think I’d mind never seein’ him again.”

Gale’s shoulders tremble almost imperceptibly with rattled, unregulated breath, and when he goes still, it takes Bucky a moment to realize that he’s not breathing at all anymore. He’s holding everything in to keep himself from shaking, from crying, from feeling. 

Bucky wraps both arms more fully around him, holding him tight like he’s trying to hold him together, trying to hold some invisible weight so Gale doesn’t have to. Like maybe if he takes the burden of keeping Gale in one piece right now, then there will be enough space to breathe again. “You need to breathe, Buck,” he whispers.

Gale turns toward Bucky and wraps his arms around him, and his fingers curl into the back of Bucky’s shirt like he’s grasping for something steady but half expecting it to vanish. His breath hitches when Bucky stays, and his fingers curl tighter into the fabric. Buzz whines and crawls further up the bed, pressing his nose against Gale’s thigh.

“Breathe,” Bucky says again. He rubs Gale’s back in what he really hopes is a soothing way. He hasn’t often found himself in this type of situation, having to find a way to make the world keep turning for someone else. He didn’t know he ever could be that person. “Just breathe.”

It takes a few minutes, but Gale’s breathing evens out, his grip on Bucky’s shirt loosens, and the silent, stubborn tears that he so obviously didn’t want Bucky to see clear out of his eyes. By then, he and Bucky have slid down so that they’re laying on the bed, Gale’s face buried in Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky finds that he doesn’t mind, not one bit. When Gale shifts away, no longer trying to hide, Bucky grabs the pillows and puts them back under their heads where they belong. And they stay there, just them and the dog, staring up at the Christmas lights. 

“I’m sorry,” Gale says eventually. The sound of his voice is clear again, but still quiet. Bucky looks at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s officially December 26th, no longer Christmas day.

Bucky shifts so his arm is behind his head, and he glances over at Gale. “For what?”

Gale isn’t looking at him. “It’s not your job to-“

“That’s ridiculous, Gale.” Because it is. Ridiculous. 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

Bucky frowns and squints up at the lights. He wonders how he’s supposed to say that he doesn’t care without it sounding weird. He wants to see Gale in every mood, every condition, every emotion. He doesn’t care. He wants to help Gale through everything. He wants to make him feel better when he’s sick or tired or scared or putting himself down. He wants to take away any pain he ever feels. He wants to protect him from everything bad that’s ever come his way even though he knows full well how strong and capable he is on his own. 

It’s a lot for a college freshman to feel about a person. It’s more than Bucky’s ever felt about anyone before, and he doesn’t really even know what he’s supposed to do about it. So he reaches out and puts his hand over Gale’s, and he fights back a smile when Gale turns over his palm and lets Bucky rub his thumb across his fingers in reassurance. “I’m glad I came to check on you.”

He hopes that says enough. 

“Thank you for… everything.” Gale finally looks over at Bucky, and there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“This really has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had I think. I- I can’t… thank you for including me.”

“You’re family now.”

Gale’s face goes blank, and Bucky knows he has no idea what to say. So he squeezes Gale’s hand once, and he looks back up at the ceiling. “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

They fall asleep like that, laying on the bed and looking up at colorful, LED stars that reflect off the ceiling and the walls, the light bathing their faces in red and green. Gale’s head rests over Bucky’s chest, where he can hear his heartbeat, steady and calming.

That’s how Bucky’s mom will find them in the morning. She’ll knock softly on the door after realizing her son isn’t in his own bedroom, and then she’ll quietly push it open. She’ll see Bucky, asleep on his back with Gale curled against his side. Bucky will open his eyes tiredly, looking at his mom in confusion as he realizes where he is. His mom will nod, closing the door quietly once again, and then she’ll lean against the wall outside the guest room. She’ll smile to herself, and she’ll thank the universe for bringing her boy someone good, someone to love and to love him. 

Bucky will look at Gale beside him, and he won’t even be able to imagine everything that comes next. He’ll hope, and he’ll wonder, and he’ll give it his all, but he won’t know for sure that this was only the beginning. Their first perfect Christmas.

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 15 - "Childhood Trauma"

Will Argenti leaned in close, to be heard above the chatter of the busy tea house. "Do you ever dream about it?"

He sounded sad, uncertain. Mikaila wasn't so very much in the correct temper for sad uncertainty. "Look," she answered instead, grinning and pointing through the crowd. Her friend Genevieve was trying to balance four little plates of green tart, two in each hand. "Genny!" Mikaila called, "Genny, you're listing starboard! Ah! There you are, perfect! Upright! Upright! Impeccable! You're almost here-! Will, no!"

Will had moved to vacate his seat and help her, but Mikaila held him fast by the arm. "There is Mr Farold," she whispered, gesturing to a red-faced Soud scolding two Soud waitresses near the dessert case, "We need him to see her excellent balance and coolness under pressure. Genevieve is questing for employment here in the spring, while her Tomas ventures to Grettaerin on an errand for the family. Her father said she can wait for him if she brings in some coin while he is gone. Is that not the most romantic thing?"

"I don't want Genevieve serving here," Will groused, "She hates me and she'll skimp on pours."

"Genny is a perfect doll," Mikaila protested, "If she doesn't like you there is some good reason for it."

"I might have called Tomas a cocksucker once."

Mikaila's hand flew to her lips but the laugh was too fast for her, and spilled out everywhere. Will would never use such language with the other girls. But those were other girls. "What did Tomas do to you?" she asked merrily. Will shrugged a shoulder and started emptying his pipe into a drained tea glass.

"He was spelling his boots clean and I didn't like the way he asked me why mine were so muddied. He knew why. Cocksucker."

Mikaila exhaled through her teeth, one eye still on Genevieve's cake walk. "Is it growing worse, old bean?"

"I don't like pymary, is all," Will answered without answering, "I don't like it. You can tutor me until the silver's gone out my hair and into yours, but I'll never like it."

Mikaila didn't doubt it. She'd learned it was her good friend's heart and her good friend's memories that were in the way of her good friend's spellcraft. There was otherwise no reason why a young Silver gentleman with William Argenti's prospects had such difficulties conversing with the khert. "You think about it too much," she diagnosed, quieter, "I see it come upon you, when you cast. You tremble like the last… like the last bead of water, hanging to the kettle spout. You're so afraid of… what? Falling? Failing?"

Some guttural grunt hunched in Will's throat. He looked away. "I'm not bloody afraid. I just don't like it."

Wisely, Mikaila did not press the point. Genevieve had been stopped by Mr Farold. Some earnest conversation was happening there, but still the tart plates wobbled. How might Mikaila salvage them if they started to tip? So delicate, the motions so erratic. Her palms burned as she thoughtfully licked her lips and considered Momentum reversals. Oh, Ssael, would it be worse if Genny lost a plate or two or if four tarts catapulted up splat! against the ceiling?

Will watched her intently. Then, again, he asked: "Do you dream about it?"

"Hmm?" She jiggled her head a little as though dislodging a fly. "Sometimes. Less and less. But then I wake up, and it is today. The sun is high, there are new things to learn, and everyone I love is here and safe."

"Not everyone."

Mikaila's attention did not stray from Genevieve and her four plates.

"You remember him better than I do, Will. Don't think me wicked, but I'm happy to forget. Papa says memories are heavy, but we're the only ones stopping ourselves from setting them down."

"That doesn't make sense." Anger darkened Will's eyes to the colour of a storm's belly, and he scowled down at his weed pouch. Half his pinch was spilled to the tabletop. He gathered it up, tried to mash the moist strands together, but his hard wooden fingers were not well suited to the delicate work.

"How does it not make sense?" Mikaila asked gently.

"I was even younger than you when that monster- that monster ate my arm. But I haven't forgotten any of it. The stink of its mouth. The two-toes' eyes shining in the dark. And knowing that Roger Foi-Hellick was laughing about all of it; near but not near enough to kill him, hiding, laughing." The fingers of his simulacrum fumbled the pinch again. Mikaila touched his false wrist in a wordless gesture. He paused, and she gathered the fragrant strands herself.

"I think what happened to you was far worse," she whispered, pushing the wad into the pipe bowl, "And perhaps you haven't had… all I had. Perhaps it's worse for you now, even still."

"Don't say that. I don't want to hear that dogshit. Forget it, I'm fine. Everything in Durlyne is fine. And I don't dream about anything."

She put the pipe in his hand, closed his clicky false fingers over the stem, and pointedly did not light it with a spell. Will reached instead to his belt for a firestarter. Drag, scratch, flick! and then flame. It was a good smell. The weed caught, smouldered, and that smell was even better. Happier to associate it with Will than with a dead man. A dead man, impossibly tall, hunched over a desk in a messy library, puffing fragrant clouds, singing an old aria to himself while he scratched line after line in a book she was not allowed to read…

"My sincerest and humblest apologies for the wait, madame!" called Genevieve suddenly. Without a sound, a plate of green tart was settled atop the table - very professional! - then slid towards Mikaila, who clapped with showy gusto and appreciation.

And maybe a little pymary. She touched the base of her throat.

"I'VE NEVER EXPERIENCED SUCH EXQUISITE SERVICE!" boomed her voice over the heads of the tea house's clientele. Each one swivelled to face her. "I SHALL BE TELLING ALL OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS OF THIS FINE DINING EXPERIENCE."

Genevieve coloured prettily and Mikaila knew without asking that she'd been offered a job. "Thank you, madame! Honourable patron! Respected customer! And this man, is this your servant? Here you are, Silver Boy, some tart for you."

She set the tiniest of the slices in front of Will. A very long and curly blonde hair was draped across it, and the crust was broken. He sighed.

[lyn-1225]

Full Control

Pairing: Carl Gallagher x fem!reader

Warnings: Weed, Fluff, slight angst, medical mentions.

Word count: 4600

A/N: this imagine took me awhile to make. I’ve been putting it off along with all of the other imagines I have ideas for and am writing. Now that it’s out I hope you enjoy it :)

——————————————————————

Your POV:

The first person that I thought of was kev.

I knew he’d have what I was looking for.

I didn’t even know why I was looking for it. I’d never done it before let alone wanted to try it, but for some reason the idea of trying weed came into my head.

The Gallaghers always seemed to be doing it and they all seemed fine afterwards. That’s one of the reason I was afraid to try it. I was afraid of what It would do to me.

Even though I was underage, I walked into the Alibi walking straight up to the counter.

Kev was pouring a drink for one of the older men at the counter. “What’s up y/n” Kev greets me passing the drink to the man that was weirdly staring at me.

Feeling uncomfortable I scooted away from him turning my head back to Kev. “Can I talk to you” I ask messing around with my fingers.

“Yeah sure what’s going on?” He asks wiping down the counter a bit. “In private” I slightly whisper pointing my head to the back door.

Getting the hint he nods his head taking the lead to the back door. I follow after him feeling like I’m about to make a drug deal even though I wasn’t.

Closing the door behind me I turn to face him. He looks at me with a confused look wondering why I wanted to talk.

“What’s up?” He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was wondering” I start trying to find the words I wanted to use next.

“If you had any edibles” I asked waiting for the ridicule I was about to get.

“I do but it’s not going to you” he says using a sort of harsh tone. He starts to walk away towards the back door making me run after him.

“Oh come on please” I plead grabbing his arm to turn him around.

“No absolutely not! I’m not giving a 15 year old weed” he yells trying to convince himself not to do it.

“I’ve never tried it before, and you were the first person I thought of” I sigh letting go of his arm.

“I was?” He asks turning back to me with a glint of surprise in his eyes.

“Yes. You were” I nod my head feeling ashamed that i was even having this conversation.

He looks conflicted with himself as he internally battled his decisions.

“Fuck” he swears throwing his hands to his head rubbing the small hairs on his head roughly.

“Fine! Fine” he yells finally giving in to my request.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” I squeak running into his arms before hugging his waist. I squeeze his abdomen jumping up and down.

“Here” he says handing me a cookie that’s in a plastic bag.

“I was gonna save it for later but I guess you can have it” he sighs as I take the cookie from his hand.

I go to question why he had it on him but before I could he walked back into the Alibi leaving me confused.

Quickly shoving the cookie in my pocket i start to walk down the street to the Gallagher house.

I couldn’t help feel like cops were staring at me. People around here carry drugs on them all the time. I don’t know why I’m so paranoid. Maybe it’s because I’ve never done this before. I’m a goody two shoes what can I say.

I take a turn making a short cut through someone’s lawn before heading down the street towards the one house I felt comfortable in.

The Gallagher house.

More specifically a Gallagher boy that lived in the Gallagher house.

The house comes closer into view making me slightly excited yet extremely nervous.

I had no idea what was gonna happen to me but I was excited to finally get to know what the experience was like.

Coming face to face with the fence I open the door walking straight to the stair case with a hint of fear.

What if I did something stupid?

What if I said something stupid?

The door to the house opened as soon as I took ahold of the handle which meant someone was home. Either that or someone broke in.

Carls military hat was thrown to the side of the room collecting dust next to the window.

Carls home.

Doing a quick knock on the door frame I shut the door behind me maneuvering my way through the living room.

“Carl?” I yell into the house looking around to see where he was.

“In here!” He called back the sound bouncing off the old walls of the house.

I couldn’t exactly pinpoint where he was but it sounded like it came from Fiona’s room.

“Where?” I yell back walking into the kitchen trying to search for any trace of him.

“I’m right here” he laughs walking out of the bathroom just off the the side of the kitchen.

He has is military pants on, the belt undone with him redoing it. His plain beige t-shirt tucked in perfectly to show off his arms and upper body muscles.

“Damn I thought you were upstairs” I chuckle realizing how off I was. I knew I had trouble hearing sometimes but was I really that bad?

“Sorry babe but you were way off” he comments walking over to me standing in the middle of the kitchen.

I move over towards the counter resting my body against it. He walks closer to me with a smirk on his face closing my body in with his arms.

“What’s up” he asks looking from my eyes to my lips. A blush forms on my face as I remember the real reason I was there.

“I got an edible from Kev today” I immediately say getting straight to the point on why I was there.

Well, It wasn’t the only reason why I was there. I wanted to see him of course, but I wanted to be here with him just in case something happened to me.

Obviously I wasn’t thinking something bad would happen but in this day and age you never know anymore.

His facial expression changes from flirty to serious really quick. He never thought in his entire life that he would hear those sorts of words leave my mouth.

“For who?” He asked standing up a bit straighter. The look in his eye showed that he wasn’t fucking around. He was starting to get protective and I knew it.

“For me” I say looking anywhere but him. I was nervous to say the least. I told him that I wanted to try weed because I wanted to see what the experience was like. That was a few years ago though. I only mentioned it once.

“Are you serious?” He asks the shock in his voice showing very clearly. I could tell that he didn’t want me to do it. I knew him to well to not know his tone changes.

“Would you be mad if I said yes” I question turning my head back towards his stiff figure. He seems to be… scared.

Why is he scared?

His eyes stare at me with such intensity that makes me rethink my decision.

“Um” he starts clearing his throat. He runs a hand through his hair turning back toward the kitchen sink.

“Are you sure about this” he asks looking back at me. The look in his eye shows so many emotions that I couldn’t keep up.

“Yes I’m sure” I say pulling the cookie out of my pocket placing it beside me on the counter.

He moves over to me picking the bag up to inspect it. He opens the ziplock bag taking a small whiff of the cookie inside.

His face slightly twists before he closes the bag back up placing it back on the counter.

“Shit you weren’t kidding” he sighs leaning up against the same counter I was leaning against.

“Ok cut the bull shit why are you acting so weird about this” i ask cutting the tension between us with my words.

“It’s just” he starts cutting himself off mid sentence.

I nod my head urging him to continue on with what he was going to say.

“I just don’t want you to get addicted to it and end up doing it everyday” he responds picking the cookie bag back up spinning it around in his hands.

“Trust me after this I think I’ll be done with it” I say the truth to the situation coming out.

I genuinely meant that too. I mean I didn’t want to turn out like Frank or Monica. A one time experience was plenty enough for me.

“Promise?” He asks looking up at me with hope on his face.

“Promise” I say trying my best to reassure him. He nods his head grabbing the bag before opening it and taking the cookie out.

The smell of the cookie hits me like a wave. The stench of skunk fills my nose making me want to gag.

“Holy shit that stinks” I gag putting my hand over my nose. I’m glad I sprayed perfume on my wrist this morning.

He laughs at my comment tearing off about a quarter of the cookie.

“The strong smell means there’s more weed in it. You don’t need more than this” he says handing me the quarter that he tore off.

Taking the part of the cookie that he handed me I take a small whiff immediately regretting it.

“Does it taste like how it smells?” I asks looking up at Carl who’s putting the rest of the cookie back in the bag.

“You’ll see” he smirks putting the bag back on the counter.

“Your not gonna have any?” I ask ripping my piece into two.

Normally he would jump at the opportunity to smoke a joint. Maybe edibles is different?

“Nah I gotta be sober for this” he laughs telling me the truth on why he wasn’t having any.

I laugh as well, the nerves in my body start to over take my movements.

“I’ll be ok right?” I ask a hint of worry in my voice. I was scared shitless.

“Yes I promise you will be fine” he chuckles his eyes giving me the reassurance that I needed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks wanting me to say it one more time just to make sure.

“Yes I’m sure” I smile taking the first half in my mouth, the bitter and gross taste overtaking my tastebuds.

Why does it taste like this?

The scrunch of my face shows my distaste for the part of the cookie I just ate.

Carls laughter pulls me out of my focus on the taste. I look at him seeing him leaning against the counter with an amused look on his face.

“Taste good doesn’t it? You ” he asks crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tasty” I sarcastically say shoving the other half of the cookie in my mouth so that I could hurry up and get it over with.

I chew the food just enough so that I wouldn’t choke before swallowing it.

The aftertaste left on my tongue lingers making my mouth taste grosser than the actual cookie.

“How long until it’s supposed to kick in?” I ask Carl walking over to the cupboard to grab a glass.

I grab the glass filling it up with some water so that I could get the taste out of my mouth.

“Normally it takes about and hour or two” he says turning to where I was now standing.

I nod my head taking little sips of the water the taste still there but slightly getting washed away.

Now that I’ve eaten the cookie I was even more terrified. There was no going back now.

“I’m terrified” I confess walking into the living room holding the cup to my chest.

“Why?” Carl asks following behind me with his hands in his pant pockets.

“I don’t know it’s just-” I cut off landing onto the couch with a small huff.

He follows my lead falling down on the other side of the couch. He pulls my legs up and onto his thighs undoing my shoe laces.

“Im afraid that I won’t be able to have control over myself” I sigh looking towards his figure.

He continues to undo my shoe laces nodding his head intently listening to me.

Once the shoelaces are un-tied he takes my shoes off placing them next to the couch and out of the way.

“Thank you” I smile wiggling my toes under my black socks. He chuckles at my childish behavior placing his hands on my feet slightly rubbing them.

“You don’t have to do that” I smile feeling the soreness in my feet go away as he works his hands into my skin.

“I’m trying to help you relax” he says continuing his actions. “I promise you that you will have control over yourself” he says working into the heels of my feet.

“Is that based on experience” i ask trying to make sure that I keep my mind busy. “Yes it is” he smiles turning to look at me.

He takes his hands off my feet placing my legs back down on the floor. He crawls closer to my side of the couch laying down to where his face would be on my stomach. I move my legs back up on the couch opening them in a v so that he could place his legs between them.

He crawls up to me slightly leaning up on his knees that we’re currently in between my legs a few inches away from my inner thighs.

“You’ll be ok” he reassures me placing a small kiss to my forehead before leaning onto my body making sure to not put to much weight on me.

He lays his head on my chest wrapping his arms around my waist. Placing my hands in his hair I mess around with his soft brown locks interlocking my right leg with his left.

We sit in silence letting our minds clear of any worry or thoughts. The only thing we pay attention to is the sounds of the cars passing on the streets and the rhythm of each others breathing.

“I remember the first time I ever got high” he says leaning his head up so that his chin was resting on my left boob.

It’s a good thing he wasn’t leaning on my sternum cause that would’ve hurt.

I could tell he liked our position by the slight smirk on his face and the constant wandering eyes.

I smile at him waiting for him to tell the whole story. Knowing him it was gonna be some crazy story that involved illegal activity.

“I was at a friends house” he started keeping eye contact with me. “He asked me if I’ve ever done weed before and obviously I said no. He handed me a small bag of gummy bears which at the time I thought was just a regular bag of gummy bears” he laughs shaking his head.

I laugh as well continuing my hand movements in his hair. “I ate almost the whole bag when he took it away from me. I was confused at first but then I realized that he gave me edibles. I wasn’t opposed to it because I had always seen Lip and Ian doing it and they seemed like they had the best times of their lives” he continued on chuckling after the memory comes to the front of his mind.

“About 30 minutes later his mom dropped me off here becuase it was a school night. While we were all eating dinner at the table that’s when I started feeling it” he stopped looking at me to make sure I was still paying attention. I nod my head urging him to finish his story.

“Everyone at the table immediately knew what was going on. Lip was laughing, Fiona was scolding me, Debbie kept asking me what I was feeling and Ian tried to calm me down from my freak out” he laughed moving his body slightly so that he was in a more comfortable position.

“I got used to it after about half an hour” he says finishing his story time. I smile at him trying to picture the scene in my head. I could imagine Fiona laughing on the inside and Lip completely falling apart with laughter.

It really was a time that I wish I was there for.

“Feeling anything?” He asks moving his arms so that he could lean his head on top of them.

If I was being honest I felt a little warm but nothing out of the ordinary.

“I feel a little warm but that it” I say shrugging my shoulders a bit. It hasn’t been that long so it should kick in a bit later.

“How do I know when it has hit” I ask looking into his eyes. He smiles a genuine smile trying to calm my nerves. “Trust me you’ll know” he answers giving me almost no details to his answer.

Well this should be fun. A guessing game.

For the next hour we chat back and forth telling our stupid stories and experiences we’ve had throughout our lives. Since we’re still young it’s mostly just stupid shit that involved some sort of parent or adult.

My muscles have continually gotten more and more heavy, my body feeling like it’s sinking into the couch underneath me. My mind has become more and more calm the more I listened to Carl talk about his time in prison.

Or atleast I was trying to listen. Every few seconds I’d get stuck in a state of dissociation where I’d forget about everything and I’d be looking at the world as if I was looking at a moving picture.

It was really fucking weird.

The giggle that erupts from my mouth confuses Carl making him look up at me. The first thing he noticed was my thrown back head and the slightly red whites of my eyes.

He starts to chuckle as well giving up on his story to watch me with intent eyes.

“You ok?” Carl asks me placing his chin on my left breast again. I look at him with a smile on my face a sudden spur of words immediately forming in my head.

“I think I might be high” I laugh moving my hand up to my head seeing it move in a weird motion. I didn’t want to get up with how relaxed I was under Carl.

He laughs as well amused with what is going on with me. This is why he wanted to be sober. He wanted to see every single thing that I would do and he wanted to imprint it into his memory.

“You know I’ve always wondered what being high would feel like and this isn’t what I thought it would be like” I confess, the words falling from my lips like an avalanche that I couldn’t control.

He stares at me waiting for the moment my word vomit decided to continue. “I thought it would be the sort of thing where I had absolutely no control over my body, but I think I have control over everything” I say letting my body rest on the couch.

The weight of my body felt like it was sinking which made me feel like I was gonna fall.

“I’m hungry” I suddenly say lifting my hands to pat Carl on the back silently asking for him to get up. “I’ll get you something” he offers getting up and off my body walking to the kitchen making sure to keep an eye on me.

The weight from his body stays on my legs making it feel like my legs were permanently stuck to the couch.

Before I start to freak out, I try to move my leg making it move from side to side on the couch. Thank god I could still move.

It’s very hard to describe this feeling. On one hand I was relaxed, and calm while on the other hand I was energetic, and freaking out.

That was only internally though.

Carl walks back into the room holding a bag of chips and another glass of water. “Here you go” he says handing me the bag before placing the glass on the coffee table for when I want it.

“Thank you” I smile trying to open the bag with a small struggle. My hands were slightly shaking which I think is normal.

With Carls laughter filling my ears I finally get it open plucking a chip out from the bag.

He sits back down on the couch moving my legs on his like he did before.

“These are good” I speak my mouth full with chips. They really were good. Although they tasted very very salty.

Scrunching my face I fold the bag back up placing the clip on it handing it to Carl. “Why do they taste so salty?” I ask reaching for my water that’s on the table.

On a normal day I would talk a lot but never this much. The cookie running through my body was making me want to spill every one of my thoughts out into the world.

“There barbecue” Carl comments looking at me with a look that says ‘are you serious’ and ‘I’m trying so hard not to laugh right now’.

“Oh” I laugh placing the water back onto the coffee table.

The front door opens suddenly another male Gallagher walking into the house. This time it was Ian.

He walks in holding his bag that he takes to work everyday. His shift must be over, either that or he’s on break.

“Ian!” I yell jumping off the couch before running to him. Almost tripping and falling flat on my ass.

“Woah what’s up with you” he asks with a small amused smile on his face. Keeping one hand on the wall I laugh doubling over into the wall.

“She’s high” Carl laughs getting up and off the couch to make sure I don’t almost bust my ass again.

“Wait really?” Ian questions eyes slightly wide. He didn’t expect that to come from Carls mouth.

“Hell yeah bro” he nods placing his hands on my shoulders.

Standing up from the wall I stand tall acting like a soldier that was in training. “Sir yes sir” I say fully aware of what I’m saying.

Carl and Ian both laugh, Ian walking away to get something to eat from the kitchen.

“How was work” I ask following after him. This time I was able to walk without almost falling over. I was getting the hang of it.

“It was alright. Had a few overdoses and a car accident. Thankfully no deaths” he smiles taking a beer out of the fridge.

“Is it scary working in a job like that? I feel like it would be scary walking into the situation thinking life or death. I would be scared to see the person because you never know when you’ll be in that situation you know what I mean?” I rush out making them think back to everything I just said.

Carl and Ian look at each other with raised eyebrows having to think about what I meant. They’ve never heard me talk about genuine fears that I have. Well at least ones that weren’t just irrational.

“Ya it can be scary, but the thought of being able to save the persons life is well worth the fear” Ian smiles taking a gulp of his drink.

“The lights scare me” I say leaning my back against the fridge door looking up at the bare ceiling that suddenly interested me.

“The flashing red and blue” i clarify picturing the lights in my head.

“Why?” Carl asks moving so that he was next to me. I couldn’t see his facial expression but I could tell by his voice that he genuinely wanted to know.

“My dads been in the hospital more times than I’d like to admit” I start allowing myself to catch a breath from all the talking I’ve done.

“Two of the times I’ve had to call 911 for him” I confess feeling the emotion from those nights. It was really scary to see my dad being carried into an ambulance.

“The lights remind me of those times and I just-” I cut myself off starting to feel small tears prick my eyes.

“I just don’t like it” i finish still staring up at the ceiling. All the shit from in my mind that I would normally keep in just fell out and into their laps.

An awkward silence fills the room making me feel slightly embarrassed by my sudden rush of emotion.

Clearing my throat I push my body off the fridge taking my eyes off of the ceiling. “Anyways I’m gonna take a nap” I say trying to get away from the always situation by walking back out of the kitchen not waiting for a response.

Falling onto the couch I burry my face into the throw pillow letting my eyes fall. The rush of calm folds over my body like a blanket as my mind goes blank and my breathing goes steady. The darkness off sleep overtaking me.

Carls POV:

She walks into the living room immediately landing on the couch. It seemed like as soon as she hit the couch she was out.

Her sudden confession about her dad runs through my head.

I never knew much about her family but I did know that her dad was a very bad drug addict.

Up until now I always thought he had some sort of control over how much he does. I guess I was wrong.

My eyebrows furrow at the guilt set in my chest.

“Wow” Ian says cutting through the silence in the room. His face showing a mixture of surprise and sadness.

The beer in his hand almost falls due to the light grip he has on it.

“Ya” I respond looking towards the couch that shes currently sleeping on.

“I have to go back to work” Ian awkwardly says putting his beer on the counter before making his way to the front door that he literally just came through.

“Bye” i slightly sigh little emotion being heard in my voice.

Walking into the living room I stare at her relaxed body trying to figure out a way to move her without waking her up.

That would be nearly impossible.

Deciding to just move her quickly I place my arms under her arms lifting her up. I quickly maneuver my body onto the couch slowly lowering her body onto mine.

She stirs a bit in her sleep making me stop my movements. She groans rolling her head to the other side before quickly falling back to sleep.

To make myself more comfortable I move her legs in between mine making her come out of her sleep.

She groans again her eyes fluttering a bit. She wasn’t fully awake but she was sort of awake.

“Mmm” she moans cuddling closer in my chest her arms moving over my sides to my back. “Hi” she smiles closing her eyes with her ear being placed on my heart.

“Go back to bed pretty girl” I smile lightly running my hands through her h/l h/c hair.

She mumbles a smile forming on her face as she lets sleep over take her again.

Even though she was gonna remember all of this tomorrow I couldn’t help but think about wether or not she was gonna act like the conversation happened.

I smile at the woman on top of me wrapping my arms around her shoulders kissing the crown of her head.

We could deal with everything tomorrow. For now I was gonna lay down and enjoy the silence of her soft breathing and the small smile across her face.

——————————————————————

A/N: This is based on my personal experience, but it’s different for everyone. It was hard explaining everything lol. I wish everyone a great day/week.

[theonethatwatchesalotofshows]

Lorelai acts as if Jess was the devil himself and the worst behaved kid she has ever seen but let's face it, she and Christopher were both 100 times worse. At first I also thought that Lorelai was maybe just a bit quirky and socially awkward and Emily was just unfair to her, but then I saw the flashback episode and thought of the things Lorelai admitted she did as a teenager and thought Emily had every reason to be strict and discipline her (not that she went about it the right way but that's another discussion). By Lorelai's own admission and from what we know from the flashbacks, she:

Skipped school to drink with her boyfriend in the middle of the day instead

Had sex way before the age of 15

Snuck out of the window to go to parties

Flashed the boys' swim team at summer camp

Dated a guy that sold weed

Dated Christopher who crashed his brand new car a couple of hours after he got it and got kicked out of multiple boarding schools

Possibly smoked weed (she said her ex boyfriend was way overcharging for it, how would she know if she didn't have experience?)

Got on a table and performed a drunk dance at a party

Regularly stayed out all night

Drank a lot and stayed out all night before the age of 16 (that's when she got pregnant and I really hope she didn't drink while pregnant)

Drove without a license

Ran away from home leaving just a note

Now think of the things Jess pulled:

Skipped school in order to make some money

Allegedly stole baseballs (never been proven)

Kicked a garden gnome

Drew a chalk outline on the sidewalk

Smoked cigarettes

Got into a car accident because he was trying to avoid an animal on the road

Presumably has been to parties because he knows how to tap a keg

Ran away from home after he thought Luke kicked him out

This is the bad rebellious kid? Most of the time we see him he is either working or with his nose in a book, minding his own business. Lorelai was either projecting or displacing on him HARD. Imagine if Rory actually got involved with someone as rebellious as Lorelai or Christopher as teenager. Someone from Chilton, like Tristan. Lorelai would have gone grey and then bald.

[zivazivc]

I'm gonna take some time to digest and think about that comic before I come to a decision. The decision being whether to continue to support you or just leave you be.

If I decide to leave you be, just know that there are no hard feelings, okay?

You are on anon so I don't know if this is someone who I've talked to before, but either way, yes, no hard feelings. I completely understand. It's the internet, anyone can unfollow anyone for any reason, but also I know this is an uncomfortable topic and even triggering to some, and some people are just not here for that. I was contemplating posting it for a while for this reason.

I do kinda want to point out that the purpose was/is not to fetishize a relationship with a minor and I will never fetishize or glorify that ever. It's wrong and unhealthy even if there's no malicious intent present. (am pointing it out because I got a bunch of asks about it and I'm 🧍) But this is fiction, and I portrayed the scenes the way that I did mainly because I made the comic from Floyd's perspective and I wanted to get in his head and show what exactly he was feeling in that moment. If the end result makes you feel uncomfortable or "flustered" (I don't think I'm using the right English word) in a certain icky way, that was kind of the point and I believe should be a normal reaction from an adult.

I spent my high school years (normally 15-19yo, but it was more like 14-22+) living in a dorm in the country's capitol and I attended a vocational school for visual arts that is pretty notorious for having a drug problem (I'm talking about mostly weed) and being full of weirdos (students free and comfortable expressing themselves and experimenting with expressing themselves but weirdos is the used term lol). The dorm is also located very near the city's subcultural center (look up Ljubljana Metelkova if you want, it's kind of what I imagine the underground scenes the bandmates visit looking like) which is like a hangout place for subcultures like punks and metalheads and the lgbtq. Anyway coming from living my whole life in a rural village where I still played with toys to somewhere like that was an insane shock to me. I sometimes felt like a toddler around young adults in a big city. And it was whiplash for many other teens too, some of whom quickly fell into bad crowds and spiraled, often those who came from bad home situations or controlling parents (heck some even came from elementary schools already doing problematic things). The amount of rumors of things happening in that dorm and school (drugs, sex, messing around with older teens/adults, whatever)... (I'm not saying it was like a concerning percentage of students but it was happening) Some of these people who made some bad choices were and some still are my friends, some of whom still struggle with some things today and it's heartbreaking.

Anyway where I was going with this is that in high school I was always kind of the anti all of that (to the point it had the opposite effect on me where I didn't even try out the normal teenage things) and just thinking "what the fuck is wrong with these people?" And recently, when my headcanons for Floyd started going in the direction that they have, I started wondering the same thing. Just not in a judgemental way this time. More like I want to dissect this situation carefully and understand it from everyone's perspective and see what lead up to it. I've always been very fascinated by morally gray and dark fiction for this reason and this is right up that alley.

So yeah, this isn't for everyone, and I can't hold a grudge if anyone unfollows me for it. But what I'm doing here is inspired a lot by real life situations and my weird deep dives into articles about trauma and its effects (also pretty sure I'm also processing some of my own personal emotions through these blorbos but I am not going into that), and I feel like I'm taking a pretty realistic approach to it (if you ignore the fact that this is fucking Trolls). I'm just slowly exploring how a relationship between a teen who comes from a sheltered almost cultish upbringing (pop trolls live in a concentration camp and are dealing with the horrors by singing and enjoying every minute of their every day like life is a ticking time bomb) and a young adult who never got a chance to grow up because he never experienced a childhood and is suddenly being liked by someone for the first time in his life (I'll talk more about Les some other time), would develop into hopefully something okay for both of them. Because I do want them to both be okay in the end. And I'm sharing some of my brainworms online for anyone who's interested. I just can't share ALL of my brain worms and sometimes I forget that people don't have a view of what's going on in my head. Yeah... This answer became long for no other reason except that I can't sleep because I posted that comic, damn. That's what I get for dropping that bombshell on top of what was mostly fun "comedic" posts about the AU so far.

[sadisthetic]

hi. this is my dnd character for toonkind dnd that i first made 7 years ago that ive recycled twice now because i wanted to finally play an ongoing campaign with him. for his third life, not only did i give him a design update, hes also has undergone a MAJOR overhaul in terms of personality and backstory tho i kept some bare basics the same (human ranger with urchin background who LOVES swords and knifes A LOT. and that he has an ambiguous age) the overhaul includes the isekai. and that hes a cunt now. but hes funnier now too lol.

im adding some more details and trivia about him under the readmore

so like if it isnt obvious the double isekai is meant to mirror the fact that i fucking played with him in 3 separate campaigns now. its part of him metatextually now lol. he was such a different guy tho. an EXTREMELY LOYAL guy. now hes significantly more selfish. and rude as hell. but hes not that to be mean or malicious. hes actually a pretty nice guy hes just extremely inconsiderate bc he prioritizes his own wellbeing most of the time. its how he had to grow up

copy pasting this tweet i wrote about him "blade at 15 was a guy that shouldve been playing halo while drinking monster but instead hes a guy stealing apples and eating mushrooms off tree bark. miraculously few instances of poisoning all things considered"

he wouldve been a fucking gamer otaku fr. he got isekaied in the mid 2000s and as a kid he fucking LOVED watching dragonball on saturday mornings. if he got to be a teen on earth, he would eventually found the anime and gaming subcommunities online BUT ALAS. he grew up trying to catch fish with his bare hands. or at least he did until he gave up quick and ate weeds.

also. despite the hardships. hes like. fine? somethings wrong with him. but its not trauma. he didnt mourn his parents much although its not like he couldve done anything with their freshly isekaied corpses when immediately hes being chased by fucking beasts. its okay they were like b-tier parents. (hes definitely not a normal person.)

he wandered the woods trying his best to survive alone and in spite of everything trying to kill him (including the shit he ate...) he ended up in a nearby(?) town and things got a bit easier after that. because he could fucking steal to eat real food now. he stayed in the woods on the outskirts of town bc no one showed grace to a thief and just dropped in every so often to swipe shit. steadily he learned forage (through sheer trial and error)

he was highkey a menace. but eventually in his late teens, a traveling party gave him an idea to like fucking. get a job. as something. he managed to make it work as a ranger/guide for hire

he fucking loves booze. he absolutely underage drank. when he could steal it. and later pay for it. and also even though he could pay for things as an adult, he still steals shit if he thinks he can get away w it (he has an absurdly (or at least pretty) high sleight of hand stat)

before he got isekai'd a second time, went through a CATASTROPHIC DIVORCE with an elf woman who he met in an expedition party who became enamored with him after he saved her life. the uh. fallout happened bc blade didnt realize (and still hasnt realized) that hes kinda aro (fundamentally did not understand her romantic intentions and thought she was just a friend wanted to hang out w him a lot. those were dates.) and his ex didnt realize how onesided it was bc she was so love with him. geez.

also. he was from arizona. hes half white half mexican. but with all the time spent not speaking spanish in a different fucking world, it made any spanish speaking skills he had atrophy to hell. it happens and it was bound to happen bc he was so young and had like no reason or opportunity to practice.

also he chose his name. he hated his lame ass name so much he was like "wait. i dont have to use it anymore." but he was 13 fucking years old. anyways he thought blade sounded cool for a name. knifedad happened later when he got his first knife. he still had a bad naming sense. he was 14.

also although his ethics are kinda wack, whats important to note is that he ultimately doesnt want anyone to like. die. its like his policy. save people that he can while trying his best to not die himself

he also has a soft spot for kids. whether hed bc a good dad is debatable but like. i think hed be a nice one

most important note: his longsword is named Darla, his dagger is named Samantha, the knife in his pack is named Nicky, and his newly acquired strange glowy sword is named lucia, and he wants a cool greatsword very very very fucking bad

i drew him in his under clothing also so that i could have a better sense for his body type when i designed his new outfit im adding it here too. he has a shitton of scars bc hes the type that pisses ppl off that they wanna shank him and also he routinely eats shit a lot. a lot of the scars in this sketch are pretty random except for one specific injury for a certain backstory event i have in mind

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P2 – The Globe Theatre London (1601) and the Burbage Meta

This part of the write up for episode 3 is going to take on a slightly different format, in that it will only be covering a very short (approx. 4 minutes) section of the episode. It will also contain the details of a meta-theory I have based on the short conversation that takes place in this scene, and I’ll be analysing the comings and goings of the scene in greater detail to try and demonstrate how the theory came to fruition. I’m not going to lie – this theory is likely to be HUGELY unpopular. I am not a fan of it myself but it’s where my head canon is at, and if it were true might explain one other unknown piece of canon. So, with all that said, let’s get started.

Before we get into the weeds, I’d just like to take a moment to appreciate the soundtrack for this scene. I’ve spoken before about David Arnold’s ability to compose incidental music of all manner of styles to assist with scene setting and the piece playing in the background here is no exception. The use of period instruments, simple orchestration and playful melody do an excellent job in establishing our place in the timeline. Chapeau, sir.

Alright, let’s get the ball rolling with some familiar ground, specifically the obvious joy on Aziraphale’s face when Crowley arrives.

Look at that happy little face! It looks like pure reflex too, he just can’t help himself. Did you appreciate that little suggestion that this is a happy couple on a pre-arranged date? Well hold on to it, because things are about to get rocky.

I’m going to skip ahead a little bit, but I will be coming back to look at some of the other interactions that take place here later on. I’ll mention (briefly) that this scene is the first we learn of the “Arrangement” actually being in place and that they have invoked it “dozens of times” (the book confirms it was originally enacted in 1020). It took me a little while to twig, but the fact that they do work on behalf of the other doesn’t just mean that Crowley is capable of blessing things and using his miracles for good (the latter isn’t so dubious – they both seem to use their miracles more like magic tricks anyway), but that Aziraphale is capable of tempting people into (bad) things. Food for thought.

When I first started looking at this episode with a mind to doing a write up for it, there was one of Aziraphale’s lines that stood out to me:

The reason it stood it is because it feels almost… lustful. And it shouldn’t because he’s not talking about Crowley here, but the actor on the stage – Richard Burbage. I dismissed it because I did not care for what that might mean for our precious darlings. That’s ridiculous, right? Aziraphale desiring someone other than the tall dark prince. Absolutely.

Time for a tangent.

After I finished writing Dangerous Liaisons (a 5+1 fix-it fic I wrote based on the theory that the entire Final 15 is all just an act), I found myself wanting to fill in some of the gaps that I had touched upon in the fic. There is mention of certain events, and of declarations of love on both sides, at particular points in their history, and my brain was already whirring about if I was to write them (spoiler alert: I am 100% going to write them), what the details were. One of those events takes place in 1941, which got me thinking about Aziraphale spitting out that he did the “I Was Wrong” dance that year. Which in turn got me wondering about what that dance would have been for. Which in turn got me thinking about what the other instances of the “I Was Wrong” dance in 1650 and 1793 could have been for, and eventually I was at the point where I wasn’t just planning to write more fics about the events mentioned in Dangerous Liaisons, but my versions of how those apology dances came about as well.

At the time, I had a notion that perhaps the 1941 dance had been done as an apology for Aziraphale’s outburst in 1862 about the holy water. Similarly, I had an idea that the 1793 dance could potentially have been about the fact that Aziraphale had (very stupidly) gone to France during a war against aristocracy, dressed in finery, for nothing more than crèpes. But the 1650 dance? I had no clue.

Until I went back to this scene.

What if. What if that lustful undertone I thought I had detected when Aziraphale speaks about Richard Burbage wasn’t nothing at all? Honestly, when my brain offered me that idea, it felt like fireworks had gone off in my head. Did I like it? FUCK NO. Did it make a weird sort of sense? Urgh, so help me, it kind of did. So hold on people, I’m going to say it quickly, because I am not enjoying writing it about as much as you aren’t going to enjoy reading it.

I think Aziraphale had an emotional affair with Richard Burbage.

I think not only did Crowley know about it, but that initially he gave it his blessing. I think Crowley changed his mind when he realised how much he was hurting as a result of it. I think Crowley tried to talk Aziraphale out of it under the pretence of not wanting him to feel the pain of heartbreak when Burbage inevitably died. I think they had a huge row about it. And I think the 1650 “I Was Wrong” dance was Aziraphale apologising for it all.

Hate me now? It’s OK if you do, I kinda hate myself for thinking it in the first place to be honest.

I know you’re probably thinking “well, what on earth were the 1793 and 1941 apology dances for then? If the original dance was for something as awful as an “affair”, what could he possibly have done in later years that would have been bad enough that the dance needed to be repeated?”. I know you’re thinking it because it’s exactly what I thought when my brain force fed me this theory in the first place. So here’s the thing.

I don’t think the dances in 1793 and 1941 were for anything different.

I think all three of the instances of the apology dances were for the same thing – Aziraphale’s emotional affair with Richard Burbage. Because it’s the one thing Crowley can secretly never forgive him for, even though he gave him permission to do it in the first place.

I suppose I had better start talking to explain myself here, shouldn’t I? Well, alright then, I will, but only about my reasoning for the theory – the playing out of the dances I will be writing about in my fics.

Let’s start with the little glance at Burbage we see from Aziraphale when Crowley says he hates the ”gloomy” Shakespeare plays:

I’ve slowed it down so that you can see it, but Aziraphale’s primary concern about Crowley’s criticism is whether or not Burbage has heard it – that’s where his gaze initially goes to before being distracted by an approaching Shakespeare.

OK, OK, a single glance and a single line of script. That’s hardly a confession, is it? Well, I’m not done yet. Let’s have a look at Aziraphale falling over himself to reassure Burbage of his talents.

This sort of gushing simper is something you might usually see from a teenage girl trying to bolster the older boy she has a desperate (and inappropriate) crush on, often when responding to an attempt by him to fish for compliments or show the younger girl up. It makes me a little sick at just how desperately Aziraphale offers his support here to be honest. My feelings aside, his babbling flattery wins him Burbage’s attention, which clearly delights the angel.

I’m sure most people would be happy to believe that the reason Aziraphale denies his friendship with Crowley is because that is the standard for them both, but I think there’s more to it than that. I’m of the mind that Burbage and Aziraphale already know each other at this point, and that they’ve already begun to develop feelings for one another. Burbage asking Aziraphale about his “friend” isn’t just a general question - it’s tinged with jealousy. He wants to know who this man is, not in an attempt to garner more compliments, but because he’s feeling threatened by his presence. As well he should. Let’s also take a look at Aziraphale’s face after Crowley’s presence has been pointed out:

Does it look familiar to you? It does to me. It’s the face he pulls when he’s in trouble for doing something he knows he should be in trouble for. Just like when Nina drops him in the shit with Crowley for having a naked man in his shop:

We can also see Crowley starting to cotton on to things in this little exchange. He sees Aziraphale’s desperation and flustering, sees the human’s jealousy and possessiveness. So what does he do? He does what any self-respecting mischief-loving demon would do. He decides to join the pissing contest. You can see his decision in his expression here:

If that expression wasn’t enough to let you know that he’s entering the ring at this point, his dismissive response to Burbage’s challenge should be enough to tell you he now considers this man fair game.

I think you should get on with the play.

Ouch. Saucer of milk, Crowley? Or maybe just turn your disdain to the person you’re actually upset with? Ah, he’s got that covered, showering Aziraphale with sass when he heckles Burbage. You can see a little train of emotions going through his expression here – amusement morphs into shock and disbelief, finally indicating his incredulity with a head shake so subtle you can only just catch it in the movement of his hair.

Quick side note: in the script, Burbage gives Aziraphale a “grateful thumbs up” at the heckle. Very friendly, don’t you think?

And so we come to the hateful fateful line that got us into this mess in the first place.

He’s very good, isn’t he?

And now it takes on a whole different level of meaning, doesn’t it? This is him asserting his pride at Burbage’s talents, justifying his feelings in a thinly veiled confession, and subtextually seeking approval from the one person in the world that he would ever want it from.

Let me be clear: I do not believe that Aziraphale is sexually attracted to Burbage, or that he’s in love with him. I think he feels a deep emotional attraction to him and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that Burbage’s talent is what’s really driving it. It’s worth remembering that Richard Burbage was a real historical person, who was the resident actor at the Globe Theatre. He played virtually every major role in the company, and it is generally thought that the role of Hamlet was written for and based on him. He was possibly considered the greatest actor of his time.

Crowley’s response, which comes after a tiny pause, seems oddly out of character.

Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety.

For those who don’t know, this line is an almost direct quote from Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra” (written after 1601, hence why Shakespeare makes a note of it when Crowley speaks). It’s spoken by Enobarbus, Antony’s best friend, who acts as a reasoned counsellor to Antony, offering advice unbiased by an all-consuming infatuation with Cleopatra. The pronouns have been changed in Crowley’s rendition (the resulting line in the play is about Cleopatra, so “his” becomes “her”). I have no doubt that Crowley’s subtext is pretty thickly layered here, so I’m going to try and break it down a bit:

We have a reference to age not having an effect on appearance. This is pretty obviously a characteristic of both himself and Aziraphale, immortal beings as they are.

The second half of the line he delivers is a reference to the subject having a range of moods that are unpredictable in their application.

The line as a whole takes these two ideas and wraps them in the suggestion that the subject is overwhelmingly attractive to many.

So taking all of that into consideration, I believe that the subject of Crowley’s line here is Aziraphale. He’s the one who doesn’t age, who is unpredictable and has fickle moods. It’s a reminder to himself of the things he finds attractive in Aziraphale and why others might also be drawn to him. It’s his admission that in this situation, he must be Enobarbus, the advisor, but that one day he can resume his role as Antony to Aziraphale’s Cleopatra. I mean, where else do we think he gets his 20th century first name from anyway?

That was a lot of analysis for a tiny handful of words. Aziraphale is less impressed with them, presumably because his little crush’s talent has not been recognised and he didn’t get the approval he was looking for.

The conversation that follows lets us know that Crowley has called this meeting. What’s interesting though is that according to Crowley’s opening line of the scene, it would appear that the location choice was Aziraphale’s.

I thought you said we’d be inconspicuous here.

This would suggest that Aziraphale knew that Burbage was going to be displaying his talents and that it would give him ample opportunity to show him off. Poor Crowley has been completely ambushed.

The majority of the conversation after this point is largely business-related, but it doesn’t stop Aziraphale from returning his eyes to Burbage at every opportunity, who is relentlessly charging through his lines in the background. Interestingly, the only line we focus on him for is this “the pangs of despised love”, which refers to the heartache caused by love that ends badly. And what other way is there for the affair between him and Aziraphale to end but badly? He’s human. He’s going to die. Leaving Aziraphale heartbroken. The frame just before these words are delivered would suggest that Aziraphale isn’t actually paying attention to him when he says them (shocking), so he’s probably missed that particular point entirely.

It's touching to see that Aziraphale does still care for Crowley, despite whatever else might be going on in his brain – his main concern, at least on the surface, is that it could put Crowley in danger if they invoke the Arrangement. In truth, I think he’s also considering the possibility that he might get to stay in London to spend more time with Burbage if he doesn’t have to go to Edinburgh; it’s written all over the lingering gaze he shoots the actor’s way when he’s offered the change to “toss for Edinburgh” (*smirk*)

And just look how disappointed he is when he loses:

And as if Aziraphale had not asked enough of his demon already, he overhears a conversation between Shakespeare and the oyster vendor (named Juliet, wonder if old Bill stole her name for anything he’d written previously…), prompting him to ask Crowley for a favour. I don’t think this could be interpreted as anything other than a secret gift from Aziraphale to Burbage. He obviously thinks it’s a marvellous idea and has set his heart on having it – just look at his silent ask of Crowley:

If that little eyebrow raise looks familiar, it’s because exactly the same micro-expression we see when he silently asks Crowley to clean his jacket in episode 2:

Let’s just for a moment say that my theory about all of this is complete guff. Why would Aziraphale be so desperate for Hamlet to succeed? Why this particular play? I’m prepared to settle and say the reason he doesn’t do the miracle himself is because he’s just lost the toss and is about to go and do Crowley’s job for him, but I can’t work out why he would be so keen for this play to succeed if there wasn’t some sort of emotional attachment involved with its lead actor and inspiration. So, I’m sticking to my guns on this one. Note: I’m not going into any metafiction stuff about both David and Michael having played Hamlet to high acclaim – everything here stays strictly within the GO universe.

And, like the lovesick little puppy that Crowley is, he gives his heart’s desire what it desires, even though it isn’t him. He even calls it a “treat”, and it earns him a pretty sweet smile of gratitude.

I don’t believe that Crowley’s gesture here is without subtext. I think this is him giving Aziraphale the approval he was fishing for earlier. And Aziraphale knows it – his secondary response (after that big soppy grim) is one of delighted relief. I have no doubt that Crowley is smarting a little by this point, and that’s borne out by the fact that he now leaves the theatre alone. If we look at the ends of each of the historical scenes, there are three where one of our hero couple leaves without the other (I’m not counting the departure in 537 AD where they both leave simultaneously). One is in 1862 (where Aziraphale refuses to supply Crowley with holy water) and another in 1967 (which I obviously haven’t covered yet) where Aziraphale leaves after delivering his soul-destroying “you go too fast” revelation. The other is this one. It’s seems very fitting that the only scenes where we see one of them leaving without the other are scenes where there is emotional tension between them. More importantly for this scene though is not so much that Crowley leaves, but that Aziraphale stays, his gaze instantly returning to Burbage on the stage. Not only is his face still fixed with a soppy smile, but he resumes eating – something we will see him using as a flirting device with Crowley in future years.

There’s one last thing I want to talk about from the beginning of this scene that I think bears mentioning:

Setting aside the fact that he miracles a coin out of thin air right in front of a human’s face here, there’s something else that draws my attention. The vendor in this micro-scene gives a customer two choices: oysters or oranges. Aziraphale chooses a third option, that we as the audience are not aware is available: grapes. Is it too extreme to consider this to be foreshadowing the choice that Aziraphale will make in this scene? As an entity, we have seen him try to choose between Heaven and Crowley for centuries, but here he will instead choose a third, previously unknown, option – Richard Burbage.

So there we have it. If you’ve stuck with me this far, I really do congratulate you. And I’m sorry. I’m not exaggerating when I say that writing this all down was actually really hard to do. I don’t want any of what I’ve theorised here to be true as much as most of the GO fandom, but once the idea planted its seed I could see how much sense it made.

If you’re still reading, and don’t hate me too much, I’ve written the prologue and first chapter of the fic that goes with this meta (you can find it here). I’ll be writing the second and third chapters covering the other “I Was Wrong” dances once I’ve completed the analysis for their relevant scenes, though that does mean the 1941 chapter will be a little while in the making.

Not sure I really want to include my usual sign off here, but… questions, comments, discussion always welcome. (Please don’t throw too much abuse at me!)

[taki118]

Yakuza Fiance ep 6 Manga Comparison

We are halfway through the anime folks. As always under the cut I have everything the anime missed out on from the manga. The scans are fantranslated cause I'm lazy.

First thing the convo between Tsubaki and Yoshino is framed in the manga as a flashback.

The convo is mostly the same but once more details are missed such as Yoshino determining that Kirishima seeing her then was 6 years ago.

We also loose out on this cute image

Now they then cut to the school where the manga picks up so I'm not sure why they removed the stare thing (I know the anime loves its dramatic stares) maybe for time?

Anyway the convo at school is much the same but if you thought that little stop Yoshino gave during her lecture was weird well the manga has an explaination

Like I don't get why the anime didn't put a text box or something they've done it before, its just kinda odd. (I dunno I honestly forgot about this during my first watch and was like "That was weird" I didn't get the reason for Yoshinos shock maybe thats just me though)

Ok so the scene is again mostly the same but the visuals when Yoshino realizes she's Kirishimas first friend is such a down grade in the anime. She just stands there and the word friend repeats in the background meanwhile the manga gives us this

Like we get this cute little slugger Yoshino, which I gotta assume is a reference to something, then we get a little montage of all the shit she's gone through its just very underwhelming by comparison.

So ok the Nao stuff first of all I wanna say the lighting is like off like its so bright the manga gives the impression of a more softer lit place so it feels more like a high class bar. Its not really a difference but it annoyed me and I am writing this haha.

The convo is much the same again with some small stuff cut, I'd say Naos internal thoughts are much meaner in the manga. They did change placement again though. When the other women bring up Kirishima in the manga Nao goes straight into flashback mode

It gives the impression that she is lost in thought and can't help thinking about him even though she's such a calculated person, this info gets put into the anime but it doesn't offer the same weight but I'll compare once there cause they made.....choices. But also it doesn't feel as abrupt when Kirishima shows up in the manga you get the impression Nao has been sitting silently for a bit. Not the "hey we were literally just talking about you" vibe the anime has.

So they put the flashbacks in when Nao is in the bathroom scene and they are framed a bit differently from the panel above (the sex thing is there just on another page so i didn't add it) So like instead of a scene in a bar or club where you assume they mightve talked about him before she approaches we get this

Which is like ummmm I don't actually know if the anime is trying to make a point or not, about the age difference or whatever

So like Nao panics more in the manga (and I really wanna make a post on this at some point so I won't get too in the weeds but) and we learn just how long it's been since she saw Kirishima (we do get him saying it was 3 years in the anime like the manga but honestly ya'll missed out on her panicked thoughts)

So it was three years ago Kirishima is 18 now meaning he was was 14-15 when they met which is why the scene in the anime is interesting. I think they thought rather than having nao say the time frame they thought to visually imply it by having her see him in school uniform which is a choice particularly with the girl she's with. Like we have a college freshman (probably she might be older) openly being like "wow arent those highschool freshmen so hot?" I dunno it's kinda funny.

But yeah anyway the manga gives us more detail into her thoughts and how she thinks about it (also did anyone else think the close up on the kiss was weird and it lingered too much?)

Anyway we get another loss of thoughts

Like nao is constantly thinking like this not sure how she'll come across in the anime honestly.

Anyway again convo is much the same only shortened, with Kirishima directly saying she acted more like a foreigner back then. But also when he leaves she doesn't look at the card in the manga, nor does Ozu show up to give an ominous stare (this adaptation and adding stares I swear to god)

Ok so this is something I mentioned in ep 4 but they took out how Yoshino has been planning a summer trip to Osaka for a while

Like this they also took out which leads into her cute hand binoculars (glad they kept it) and convo on the phone with Kirishima. Its another set up thing they dropped so it feels a little more random and convenient in the anime.

So the start of the trip is overall the same but again we loose some character beats

In the manga it feels like she pulls him before he gets shoved and we get explanation why he's never really been to Osaka and a cute culture clash moment.

Ok so this is weird we get the face but we don't get the context for it. Like this head thing felt so off to me when I first watched again maybe its just me.

That being Yoshino trying to play tour guide for Kisishima all while doing tasks.

We also loose out on the explanation as to why she's buying so much food and Yoshino getting a little nostalgic. These scenes also help to show that the roles have shifted with Yoshino being the knowledgeable one Kirishima has to relay on in a new city. We can kinda get the vibe in the anime but you really feel it in the manga.

I will say the scene at the Takoyaki store is pretty good in the anime giving some actually fun visuals and expressions.

So the scene with Nao and her coworker is longer in the manga the woman keeps complaining about various things and Nao is working overtime with keeping her composure

It actually showcases a lot of her personality with all the mental back talk she does so its a shame it was cut. Like I get it who wants to listen to someone humble bragging like this but it takes away from her character.

We also loose more of Naos thought process as she considers seeing Kirishima again due to this conversation.

Again I will likely do a whole thing just on Nao at some point but the anime skips over all of this and gets right to Ozu talk.

But once the get there ugh we once more loose some set up stuff

Again not having Nao think about Kirishima makes her contacting him seem a little less calculating and we loose the hint that Ozu was trying to contact Nao privately. The rest of the convo goes the same.

So we do loose some cute domestic stuff with Yoshinos arrival in the anime

Showing how she is with the gang members its not a lot but still.

So the room scene is pretty one to one which i am very grateful for its one of my favs. We do miss a small explaination about the keychain though.

No spoilers for anime onlys but be the fact that it feels heavy is important later. I will say the touch of doing a close up on Kirishimas hands as he holds it like he doesn't want to let go was really good.

So the walk is honestly well done in animation and I'm grateful to how they visually show Yoshino struggling to keep pace with the two but we do loose a Yoshino thought thats important.

Its kinda important for the arc as Yoshino tries to better understand Kirishima.

The store scene is very accurate and I love they kept the Shoma trying to sneak to drinks thing but we lost this dumb Shoma face

We then loose an inbetween scene of Nao meeting up with Kirishima before the hotel. It again serves to establish Nao as a character and her thinking.

Honestly this would have been better to end the episode on. Instead we get a very rushed Hotel scene.

And I do mean rushed, the tattoo talk is longer and helps to set a timeline for Kirishima.

Like im having such trouble picking things cause this scene is so much longer

They go into more detail about WHERE exactly they are going tomorrow which is set up. Then before he leaves to shower we get this back and forth where he explains she seems more like herself now.

Which then leads into the seeing the phone screen. It all gives the impression of two people who have history. But the anime is so rushed you can barely tell. I am really hoping for some brevity next ep cause it will have some scenes I really like.

[eightyonekilograms]

What are the left-NIMBYs' policy positions? What are the YIMBY policy positions? I mean I know what they are in a broad sense (more regulation on constructing housing vs. less), but I'm curious to know in more detail. Obviously some regulation is good (living in California, I'm glad there are standards for earthquake safety), and some is bad (I'm generally against single-use zoning for a bunch reasons you probably agree with). The basic supply and demand stuff and how it affects the cost of housing is obvious enough to me, but the weeds of how specifically regulations should be changed in light of this seems like a more complex issue.

I don't identify as either a NIMBY or a YIMBY; this discourse is somewhat foreign to me, but I probably have some mixture of NIMBY-sympathetic and YIMBY-sympathetic positions, and I'm interested in getting a better picture of the details of the debate from someone who clearly knows a lot about it.

Also as an aside, if you have any good sources of information you can recommend on the present state of housing policy in San Francisco, and/or how it's changed over the years, I'd be very interested in them.

At least from my POV, left-NIMBY policy prescriptions generally seem to fall into one of three camps (arranged from least to most radical):

non-zoning regulatory updates to try and make housing more affordable; the canonical example being adding low-income requirements to new housing developments

large expansions in government-funded housing projects, possibly to the point of having all housing construction be government-funded

"housing can't be fixed until we abolish capitalism"

Each of these has a flaw, although they need to be analyzed separately.

The people in camp 1 are well-intentioned, but unfortunately in practice they are useful idiots for the people who want less housing to be built (landlords, homeowners who want to Preserve the Neighborhood Character, the aforementioned BlackRock investors from my original post, etc.). Those people know full well that the actual effect of attaching more requirements to new housing construction is that less new housing (of all kinds, low-income, high-income, etc.) gets made, because projects which were just-barely profitable get pushed into being unprofitable, and so they don't happen. Obviously individual cases vary, but in general, if you say "you can't build those 50 new housing units unless you also add 15 low-income units in that development" is not that you get 50 market-rate units and 15 low-income units, but that you get zero new units. Which helps nobody.

This is one example of a depressingly common pattern where left-NIMBYs unfortunately make it very easy for themselves to get played like a fiddle by people who say they have the interests of low-income renters at heart, but absolutely do not. As I said, the sorts of "wealthy suburban single-family homeowners" who go to their community meetings and demand that new construction include low-income unit requirements are doing that to murder low-income housing, but because it's an invisible murder (since the development simply doesn't happen), those homeowners with their In This House We Believe signs can keep saying they want to help the poor get housed, while guaranteeing that won't happen.

With camp 2, in general it seems to me like a lot of them aren't paying attention to what YIMBYs actually say, and instead have built up a strawman in their mind of YIMBYs as diehard anti-government libertarians. Some of them are, but most YIMBYs— myself included— do want more government-funded construction and think it definitely should be a part of a comprehensive solution for housing affordability.

The issue is, if you want government-funded housing, the government still needs to pay for the land, and the construction. And if land and construction are more expensive than they could be because of limited supply and burdensome, then the government has to pay more for this housing, and gets less for its money. I know a lot of left-NIMBYs tend to scoff at fiscal/budgetary constrains, but they are a real thing, if only because eventually you'll get voter revolt, and if you have X dollars of taxpayer money to spend on new housing construction, it would surely be better to make that X dollars go as far as possible and build maybe 5,000 units instead of 1,000. This is a case where the libertarian and socialist views do not need to be opposed and can in fact work in concert: the more land reform you have, the cheaper land gets and so the more bang for you buck you get. So even if you are a Camp 2er, you should support YIMBY policy reforms anyway.

The people in camp 3, well... I wanted these posts to be as factual and non-ideological as I could, but at some point there's no getting around the fact that camp 3 is delusional. We're not going to abolish capitalism, at least not any time in the foreseeable future. It could happen in succeeding decades, but in the meantime, wouldn't it be nice if people could have an affordable place to live now? Note that there are differences in housing affordability across areas, based mostly on to what extent they have YIMBY-like policies in place, so the claim that only abolishing capitalism can help seems empirically wrong. (And if the response to that is that helping people now is bad because it would delay the revolution, that's when I start yelling and pounding on my keyboard again. Accelerationism is fundamentally a monstrous, evil ideology, gleefully throwing people under the bus for the sake of a fantasy world).

[einsatzzz]

[OC] Ninomiya Kanako (Kana) - Character Profile

🍎The cold but resolute asocial who's obsessed with her Family! Ninomiya Kanako!🍎

You can go to this link to our Oniyanagi Wiki site for her full character page!

"Kurumi is my twin, so do treat her well. That's neither a request nor a suggestion."

Kana is one of the two 10th generation bosses of the Oniyanagi yakuza family (alongside Kurumi). She is a talented assassin who's fortunately currently under a temporary restriction, so you're totally safe as long as you don't get in her way.

Age: 15 Birthday: December 13 Zodiac Sign: ♐︎Sagittarius Height: 157cm Weight: 46.5kg Gender: ? Country of origin: Japan MBTI: ISFJ Favorite author: Osamu Dazai Favorite food: "Anything sweet will do", Kurumi's cooking

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PERSONALITY: As if she's in a perpetual game of poker, she keeps her cards close to her chest with an unreadable expression.

Kana has a stoic demeanor and her expressions are often devoid of any emotion (even in the face of life-threatening situations). When she does show it, it usually means bad things (not for her). She is also a natural liar and can be very manipulative.

She's an old soul who doesn't like wasting time on things that don't matter. She doesn't have any special interests and also doesn't derive any pleasure or regret from her talent, or so what she says. When in truth, she has a large amount of hidden bloodlust that she has trained to keep under control - for her Family's peace of mind.

One of the very few exceptions that stands out from this dull and empty existence is her love for her twin. Kurumi's safety is also your safety.

SPECIALTY: If it's for her Family, there is nothing she won't cut down.

Kana is a swordsman but she also has a special talent for assassination. She can somehow use any item into a murder weapon, no matter if it's a pencil, a soda can, a piece of twig or even a toilet paper. It's also easy for her to hide her presence because her footsteps has no sound (even when she's running in the rain). Out of habit, she sleeps with her eyes open and it creeps a lot of people out.

DAILY LIFE: Despite certain difficulties, she wants the people that she cherishes to live freely and be true to themselves.

Her Family members are quite the pieces of work - a very lonely, miserable and dishonest bunch looking for a place to belong in this fleeting world. And she is also the same as them. Caring for this Family (in her own way) is a responsibility she took on for herself. She promised, after all. So they should just do whatever their heart desires. Because she's not able to do so for herself anymore.

—Within reason, of course. If Yui were to start causing construction work level noise while working on his robot projects at ungodly hours, she won't hesitate to punch a hole through the wall and tell him to keep it down. If some asshole scum of the earth is trying to court Kurumi? Unacceptable. Fortunately, accidental deaths are a common occurrence.

RELATIONSHIPS: A new school doesn't change anything for her...supposedly.

Reborn: No comment.

Tsuna & Lambo: Don't get ahead of yourselves just because Kurumi is fond of you.

Gokudera: His sister's cooking isn't that bad. Skill issue.

Yamamoto: He's a good kid.

Hibari: This bastard's gonna have to graduate from middle school at some point, right?

Dr. Shamal: There are people in this world who deserve to die. But fellow weeds don't die so easily, don't they?

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Thank you for taking the time to read this! This character...is kindaaaa complicated, so I have a bit of a difficulty coming up with words for her profile. This character can pack so much spoilers lmao. Anyway, I did my best (lol).

Any questions about her or the story is very much appreciated! For credits, all Oniyanagi OCs are by me and @amiahoshi! While for the intro audio, Kana is voiced by erushaVA and I also got the background music here from MusMus! The audio art used above is inspired from En/kidu's April Fools art lmao:

"Kana outright doesn't care and doesn't think about gender or pronouns."

The next one will be Yui's, but that will be for late-July/early-August since I'll be too busy studying in the coming weeks. I think I'll start on the webcomic once I'm done with Yui's ref sheet.

[ginger-ly]

Hellllo~

Forgive me if this is too personal of a question but I’m just curious- I know you had to originally lose a bit of weight due to some health stuff. Now that you’re putting weight on again, have you made any significant changes to your diet in order to avoid potential negative side effects?

Asking as a fatty who is trying their best to stay healthy while also consistently growing at a reasonable rate

I’m just going to answer one of these since like 15+ messages were basically the same or a health issue fetishized version

Honestly, I don’t REALLY feel like I owe you guys an answer to this and I’ll admit I’m a little grossed out by just how MANY messages I got about this subject, it makes me feel like a science experiment, no one would feel comfortable saying this kind of stuff to my face it’s so dehumanizing

But I’ll give it to you anyways: Yes, I am making sure to watch what I eat more, I no longer consume any alcohol and I’ve cut back a ton of my weed intake

What I’m mostly doing is staying active, I’m going to the gym multiple times a week, devoting time daily to getting my heart rate up/minor stretches, stuff I ~should~ have been doing before but I was entirely too lost in the weight gain fantasy

[sunflowerhoney]

7, 11, 34, 47, 51, 69, 71, 80, 92 :)

7. If you had to choose one way to die, what would it be?

In my sleep of old age after experiencing very minimal medical issues 😅

11. Do you like your body?

Definitely not lol but I’m working on trying to 

34. Do you like small kids?

To be totally honest it depends on the kid I find little kids cute but I also get overstimulated really easily by loud noise 😵‍💫

 47. When was your first kiss?

In 2010 when I was 15, some guy that I went to school with kissed me while we were hanging out sitting in a band locker (giant lockers people put instruments in lol), forever wishing my first kiss was not w a guy 😅

51. Who are you most comfortable around?

@theog-greenbutch 🥰💓💓💓

69. Have you ever done anything illegal?

I smoked weed regularly in a state where it wasn’t legal when I was younger lol and I definitely occasionally drank/smoked before i was 21, only other thing I can think of is my best friend and I used to explore abandoned buildings so trespassing too I guess 

71. Have you ever made someone feel bad about themselves intentionally?

Honestly probably yes, I come from a family that fought frequently and meanly, I definitely would say mean stuff to my stepdad on purpose when he was being awful for no reason 

80. What do you think about vegetarianism/veganism?

I think it’s cool!! My mom is a vegetarian and has been since before I was born so I’ve been exposed to it most of my life! I applaud people who can be that dedicated and not picky I can be particular with food sometimes 

92. Favourite app on your phone?

Probably TikTok or tumblr! 

Thank you so much for asking!! 😊

[libidomechanica]

Thee down was not turn the dews of life and we morning the glow

A Kelly lune sequence

               1

Silver shall repent. No near-on tender, as ill? What!

               2

At, and you. A third, a foolishers home of sense flies.

               3

It is words o’er, pains! Same she watery piled thrushes?

               4

Lean batter, or speak not till with noise of their advice.

               5

But a curbs, and stumble thou fools: reserve. Lived farewell?

               6

Her hair from my blossom nips. I wasn’t for the restraight.

               7

But I’m alive. Betwixt her secrets double doth play.

               8

One meadow-larkspur, and love enjoy it.—The sniffer.

               9

To fight, ere all possesse? For as sad as beauteous Mind.

               10

The Seraskier is undone. Weeds, weary pardon mine.

               11

The boot to Heaven heauens siluer ray, I saw her name!

               12

I don’t read to me. I knew where sweet; he clouds and me.

               13

And mirk that the moon was blaw! They could faith is miswent?

               14

Some sweet perish’d. Twelve days began to Heav’nly saying.

               15

As care? My head. In our knife. And the end, deeper sad!

               16

Here blinks that my head. When April’s showers, as some nine.

               17

A voice is build to the Dambe. To his right be a heart.

               18

But next, the morris. That I thus much place, Peace, that guides.

               19

No more in desire! Brough bodies, from the horses.

               20

With speechless night. Why should hinder storment’s coarse at close?

               21

How carrying pyne field. Yes! Weary ev’ry flowers.

               22

And so many an infant could touch of sound! Her day!

               23

Of me pine. Ever sleep ye soul had rise, dinna cry.

               24

The middle-aged whence. The atmos! When will the days.

               25

The bless. Had rise got a spotless wi’ twa drifting: voice?

               26

—I’ll ne’er cold decked drinks, and unfold heaven, devise. Shade.

               27

Were remote hiatus of a shriek ring-dove shelter’d.

               28

Of solemnize the tea-cup of summer safe and man.

               29

Ourselves; take in his heard has had a quietude. Proud flew.

               30

Till leave Don Juan they? —The very stream from the this kin!

               31

Feeding off envy’s stores depth. Design this dust, but die.

               32

’Twas her brother organs like tenor. Sometimes are wine.

               33

But to have dawn apart, before three; no noisier.

               34

Too trust of reason. To the serious should be so?

               35

And Willye behold up, my knee His hand! White bleak a sigh.

               36

—That blood will doth frame, and the head, I try, o pious.

               37

Or if no vulgar miracle of cheer, burning mind.

               38

When my weak. So Philomede, let it had past to view.

               39

Heavenly temple. For throughts or of fear; each trac’d, whence?

               40

And marsh of moonlighted, we sun, about, as cooks, on!

               41

He started; and such wish’d. Into the might my Muses!

               42

So fair swift as not, when in a maternal! But missed.

               43

Of whom her sinning. The creature’s hip to builds the Queen!