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freelancearsonist · 4 months ago

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every breath you take

➔ (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader

➔ 5.3k words

➔ Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdad’s best man.

➔ Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frank’s adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)

➔ Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months 😂) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33

June, 2013.

After months of planning—stress, sweat, and tears abounding—the big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.

With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soul–you want this to be perfect.

Someone else shares your determination, too.

You would’ve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dad’s. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldn’t be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldn’t be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Bill’s best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. He’s been turning this wedding into a ‘friendly’ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. It’s infuriating—especially when he wears that smug grin that’s become his signature expression around you. It’s torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exception—he’s dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like he’s been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.

It’s wrong. The guy’s old enough to be your dad, and that’s aside from the fact that he’s your soon-to-be-stepdad’s best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy who’s old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yet…

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.

You’ve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now.

Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Well, rehearsal’s as important as the weddin’ itself,” he dutifully repeats the line that you’ve heard from your dad a million times over. “And this barn ain’t gonna decorate itself.”

“Well, that’s kinda my job,” you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you.

He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.

The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decor–as long as this barn has been a wedding venue, you’re certain no one’s ever made it look this good before.

The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.

Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal point–an eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. It’s definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bit–it was solely Joel’s vision. Apparently, he’s a lot more artistic than you’ve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; you’ve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they could–

You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you can’t get yourself under control you’re going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the ‘things you shouldn’t be thinking about a middle-aged man’ category.

He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, though…

Snap.

With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. You’ve finished with perfect timing–you’ve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.

You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but he’s nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldn’t at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesn’t have to answer to you. It’s a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelings–can whatever you’re going through really be called that?–your attraction, is one-sided. He’s here for Bill and Frank, not for you. You’re his best friend’s daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you can’t even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isn’t for him.

You avoid Joel the entire night, which isn’t easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easier–both Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so there’s no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if he’s looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.

Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, he’s got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, you’re looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.

He puts it out of mind as much as he can. He’s not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. He’s not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. He’s definitely not supposed to be wondering what you’re wearing under that adorable dress of yours. You’re his best friend’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re so far off limits that he shouldn’t even be looking in your general direction.

But he is. He’s looking, and he can’t stop looking. And most of all, he can’t stop wondering if you feel it too.

Evidently you don’t, because you won’t even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. You’ve probably figured out how much he’s been thinking about you and the kinds of things he’s been thinking, and you’re disgusted. He’s just a dirty old man to you, surely.

Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as you’re through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about it–blissfully unaware that Joel’s doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.

You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.

No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.

You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel.

Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredible–there’s overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. It’s almost overwhelming; there’s way too many options.

After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.

“Decided to sleep in a little,” you explain. “Where’s Bill?”

“He already had breakfast, he’s getting ready,” Frank explains. “Joel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we don’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck, after all.”

You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because that’s such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and function–you’re surprised he doesn’t have you working off of a schedule, too.

A small, annoying part of your brain thinks it’s really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and you’ve really got to stop thinking about him so much.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.

“Relieved, honestly,” he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. “I finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.”

You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.

There have been a lot of times where you’ve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life.

If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now it’s his turn to shine. You’re not letting anything get in the way of that–especially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.

With a little more resolve in your mind, it’s easier to get ready for the main event.

Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get ready–but when you’re ready, you’re a vision. Even though you’re not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning.

Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same.

With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts off–they’re doing more harm than good at this point.

You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dads–then you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.

Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, it’s surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.

You’ve never seen him quite so put together. He’s normally a bit undone–a symptom of being a long-time bachelor–but today, he’s perfectly styled. The hair he’s been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. He’s in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop him–to keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.

You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “wow.”

“Need help?” You offer before you can think better of it.

There’s a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.

Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you can’t back down now. With a deep breath–you’re so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologne–you will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.

His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. “You look… incredible.”

“So do you,” you whisper. Just when you think you’re out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.

“This too?” His warm brown eyes search yours–how could he ever expect you to say no?

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tied–all you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He could’ve easily done this himself; and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins.

Maybe this whole song and dance isn’t quite as unrequited as you originally thought.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again.

You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and–

The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

“There you are!” Frank’s got an untamable smile on his face–his hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything he’s ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. “Wow, you two look amazing.”

“Hey. Thanks.” You’re fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your father’s happily ever after comes crashing in and you’ve never felt so proud. “First look time?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “Is Bill–?”

“Dressin’,” Joel answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll bring ’im out when he’s done.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearance–you’ve gotten under his skin. Good.

Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that you’re wearing much, but it’s enough that it’s jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.

You’ve never been so happy for two people before. You’ve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.

At some point, you become conscious of the fact that you’re holding Joel’s hand. You know you probably shouldn’t, that you could get both of you in serious trouble–but he’s not pulling away, so neither do you.

The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremony–it passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. You’ve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. You’re hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this day–it’s nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.

Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure you’re still presentable. A couple tissues later and you’re good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.

Joel’s standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.

His breath seems to catch when he sees you–he clears his throat before whispering, “Hey.”

For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. It’s just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.

“H-hey,” you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?

“I think it went pretty well,” he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if he’s nervous.

“It was perfect,” you agree.

For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. It’s right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You don’t know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.

And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.

“You really do look amazin’,” he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. “I mean, you always do, but–”

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. There’s nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, but he doesn’t dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.

“I want to,” you breathe against his lips. “Do you?”

“God, yes.”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as he’s starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, strangely apt but also a reminder that you don’t have time. You made this playlist yourself–you know that there’s only three more songs after this one before you’re supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.

“Joel…” you moan out. “Joel, we have to be quick.”

“How quick?” He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.

“Ten minutes at the very most.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. He doesn’t pull away though–if anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. “You still wanna do this?”

As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you can’t do that to Frank and Bill. “You think ten minutes is enough time?”

“If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”

It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.

Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. “It’s definitely working.”

“Good.”

You know this is territory that you probably shouldn’t be crossing into, not when he’s twenty years older than you and he’s your new step-dad's best friend, but you can’t be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips. “She’s soakin’ for me.”

“A-always is,” you gasp out.

His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Joel, please…” Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you can’t help it when he’s touching you like this. It’s exactly what you need and he knows it–he watches your face for every little indication that he’s doing a good job.

“Please what?” He purrs quietly. “What do you need?”

You could go on like this for hours, you’re sure–and you’re sure he’d be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until there’s nothing left in your head but his name.

The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Need you.”

“It’s gonna be tight, sweetheart.” You’d think he was being overly confident if you couldn’t feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.

“That’s okay. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” In a flash he’s got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.

You can’t help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. He’s big. There’s no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry it’s not inside you already. You’re devastated you don’t have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until he’s begging to fill you.

Later, you remind yourself.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitation–the last thing he wants to do is to push you.

You’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

“Easy, honey. I’ve gotcha.” The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slick–for a moment, you’re mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. “Gotta tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I will, I swear, just please–”

The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretch–one that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Shit, sweetie,” he purrs, voice liquid gold. “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”

You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hilt–the feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lips–you can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. It’s nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.

“Good?” He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.

You give him a shaky nod in response. “Good.”

The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know you’re in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutter–little breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if he’s tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.

You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. You’re finding out that he’s a very intuitive and quick learner–you would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so.

The way his hips work–driving him deeper than anyone’s ever been; the way his fingers swirl–bringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark… it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.

“Y’feel like fuckin’ heaven,” he gasps out against your cheek. “Never gonna get enough.”

The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spine–you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know he’s wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize you’ve been coveting so deeply.

“Joel…” You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs aren’t cooperating.

“I know baby,” he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. “I know. S’okay.”

It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he purrs breathlessly. “Lemme feel it, come all over my cock.”

His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and that’s all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. It’s the best you’ve ever felt–you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, either.

“That’s it honey, holy shit…” He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. “W-where?”

For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if he’s about to–

“Inside,” you whine out after your moment of clarity. “Please–”

“Shit,” he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. “Y’sure?”

You’re not even conscious of nodding your head–all you know is that you need him completely. “It’s safe. Promise.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers. “Gonna leave you fuckin’ drippin’, won’t be able to stop feelin’ it all night–”

His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. There’s nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. You’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous man’s gorgeous face. Knowing that you’re the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.

He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. “Christ, honey… squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

“Not my fault you’re huge.”

He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. It’s lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again you’re struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.

The song outside changes to ‘Every Breath You Take’, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.

“Shit, Joel, we’ve got to go.”

He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but there’s hardly enough time to worry about that.

“How’s my make-up?”

“Perfect, darlin’. Not a thing outta place.”

“Thank god for waterproof,” you chuckle as you straighten your dress.

His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirt–there’s still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.

“We’ve gotta go,” you repeat when he halts by the door.

“Just a sec,” he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. “Come to my room w’me tonight.”

“Okay,” you promise–you’re surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.

He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesn’t let it go until he absolutely has to.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut

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tangerinearchive · 4 months ago

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queen shit | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x pageant queen! reader

summary: max verstappen mets you, his long term celebrity crush at a charity event.

notes; someone request this but i accidentally posted it before i finished and had to delete it…i hope this finds you anon

liked by rupaulofficial, maxverstappen, mclaren, and 913,047 others!

yoursername: very successful event tonight, many thank you's to all those who attended and donated, much love 💜

view comments below!

user1: by very successful she means that she just raised over 20 million dollars for family's in need. 20 million dollars. TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS.

user2: QUEEN. SHIT.

user3: i love rich people actually putting their money and status to work

user4: my goat 💪💪

user5: there were SO MANY different celebrities there

user6: and she definitely did NOT know all of them!

user7: probably just invited them so more money could be donated 😭

user8: was the most random people too, like kim kardiashian?? mitski??? f1 drivers??? hockey players??

user9: no seriously. because why was i watching the livestream only to see george russell dancing in the background. very horribly may i add

georegrussel|63: thank you for the invite! i had the time of my life!

yoursername: of course george! thank you for the donating :) <3

user10: they’re friends???

user11: some of yall are FAKE FANS. yn and george have been friends for YEARS. he even posted her when she won miss universe and many times after

user12: i wasn't even alive when she won miss universe...

user13: PAUSE.

user14: WHAT ARE YOU ON SOCIAL MEDIA? THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU

user15: YOURE SIX?? AND CAN SPELL??

user16: are we all going to pretend like max didn't just meet his celebrity crush?

user17: most people here don't know who he is 😭

user18: "meet" is a STRETCH, he stood behind her all night just staring...

user19: yeah it was actually kinda sad

user20: f1twt is CLOWNING HIM SO HARD RN

user23: 3x world champion and he's too scared to go up to his celebrity crush

user24: OKAY GUYYYSSS BUTTT this is his first time seeing her in person! ofc he was shocked, maybe next time he'll actually go up to her?

landonorris: thanks for the invite!

georgerussell63: you were my plus one?

landonorris: SHHHH

georgerussell63: in fact, everyone on the grid got personally invited, except you?

landonorris: STOP AIRING OUT MY BUSINESS

user27: yn definitely didn't invite him directly just so lando could be embarrassed like this

alex_albon: best thai food ever (other then my moms) thank you for the invite!

user25: yeah we saw they way your scarfed that shit down

user26: acting like it was the last fucking supper

yourusername: thank you for coming alex! (and for taking home the leftovers)

user28: HE TOOK HOME THE LEFT OVERS?

maxverstappen1: hi

georgerussell63: oh no

landonorris: no way he does it

charles_leclerc: i believe in you max

carlossainz55: don't hype him up! max don't do it. don't embarrass yourself like this

oscarpiastri: i say go for it max

yourusername: hi max :)

georgerussell63: omg omg OMG

maxverstappen1: would you like to go on a date with me?

landonorris: oh he did it...

carlossainz55: NOOO

charles_leclerc: yay max!

user29: it's been 10 hours and still no response...

liked by georgerussell63, and 762,091 others!

yourusername: pretty sunset 🌅

view comments below!

user30: is that…a man?

user31: this makes max being rejected so much more humiliating

user32: SHE HAS A WHOLE BOYFRIEND?? 😓

user33: max found sobbing into his pillow

user34: *not clickbait*

georgerussell63: i laughed

user35: GEORGE???

user36: he’s funny for this

user37: max most definitely doesn’t think it’s funny

user38: yns first time soft launching and it’s right after max publicly asks her out…hm!

user39: she was waiting for the funniest moment to do this

user40: QUEEN SHIT

user41: ok but who is this man 🤨

user42: don’t call me delusional…but that hand kinda looks like max

user43: okay granny let’s get you back to the nursing home…

user44: thankful i’m not this delusional

user45: free yn from the max fans…

user46: @/user42 DONT LET THEM SILENCE YOU

landonorris: he cried

yourusername: i cried

landonorris; we crode

user47: okay it’s definitely max

user48: lando knows something

user49: MAX ISNT IN THE LIKES??

user50: it really isn’t him…hes been flirting with her through the likes for years

user51: rip max being the first to like yns post..gone but never forgotten 🕊️

charles_leclerc: hehehe…hehehe…hehe

user52: WHAT DO TOU KNOW CHARLES

user53: don’t fuck with me charles. i am not in the mood.

user54: you can’t convince me that man is not max when all his friends are in the comments section like this

user55: charles istg

alex_albon: i know something 😏

user56: ok. it’s definitely max.

user57: i still don’t think it is…we can’t see his face

user58: but what are the chances she soft launches after max asks her out

user59: she probably did it to be funny?

user60: and it worked! she’s too funny

liked by alex_albon, carlossainz, and 914,058 others!

maxverstappen1: matching sunglasses 🕶️

view comments below!

user61: QUICK, WHOS FEET DO THOSE LOOK LIKE

user62: oh max…

user63: okay so! it’s either max and yn DID go on that date, or yn has a bf and max posted this to save himself

user64: i realllyyy hope max and yn did go on that date because if max posted this just to save himself the embarrassment….

user65: what if this isn’t even a girl, and it’s one of max’s friend pretending to be a girl 😭

user66: i can see charles pretending to be the girl

user67: HE SO WOULD

charles_leclerc: those are NOT my toes 🤕

user68: okay but no one on the grid has skinny little girl hands like this

user68: logan does

logansargent: ?

user68: well this is awkward

georgerussell63: well well well

user69: THIS CAN MEAN MANY THINGS GEORGE!! IS THIS YN OR NOT

user70: i don’t think it’s yn. she’s too pretty for max.

comment liked by georgerussell63

user70: GEORGE LIKED??

user71: so it’s NOT yn?

user72: but he could mean it in a “they are dating but she’s too pretty for him” way

user73: GRRRR

carlossainz55: i can’t believe it

user74: WHAT. WHAT CANT YOU BELIVE CARLOS

user75: you can’t believe that yn and max actually went out?? or you can’t believe max got a another girl after being publicly rejected??

user76: they’re like giving us hints but at the same time they’re not??

user77: THEYRE PLAYING WITH US

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 802,520 others!

maxverstappen1: i’m dating a pageant queen and you’re not!

view comments below!

user78: FINALLY!

user79: could’ve just said this earlier..

user80: could’ve saved us the trouble 😒

carlossainz55: i still can’t believe it

user81: SO HE DID MEAN IT IN A “can’t believe you actually got her” WAY

maxverstappen1: you have no faith in me :(

carlossainz55: correct!

charles_leclerc: i believed in you max!

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 😄

carlossainz55: he’s lying, he bet ��50 you wouldn’t get a text back

maxverstappen1: THAT BASTARD

charles_leclerc: IT DIDNT SEEM LIKE YOU WERE GOING TO GET A REPLY! I THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD TIME TO WIN €50 AND I WOULD’VE GIVEN YOU HALF?

user83: i could be dating a pageant queen, you don’t know me

user84: are you?

user83: am i what?

user84: dating a pageant queen?

user83: no

user84: what is wrong with you

user85: i love how nobody was hating, we all just wanted to know if max x yn was happening

user86: max has gotten his dream girl…WE CHEERED

user87: years later and lot of instagram likes, we DID IT 👏

user88: we?

user89: i was there almost 8 years ago when max put his first like on yns post, so yes! WE

user90: thank god for that charity event

liked by maxverstappen1

yourusername: former pageant queen

maxverstappen1: you’ll always be a pageant queen in my eyes 🥰

landonorris; simp

maxverstappen1: mad you don’t have a girlfriend?

user91: WOAH GIRLFRIEND?

user92: girl what did you think was going on here

user91: I DIDDNT KNOW THEY MADE IT OFFICIAL

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 715,047 others!

yourusername: i’m dating a 3x wdc and you’re not!

view comments below!

user92: please don’t rub it in

user93: i’m soooo happy for you guys (sarcasm)

user93: yes i’m jealous

danielricciardo: actually i am dating a 3x wdc and his name is max verstappen

yourusername; really? because max verstappen is is laying on me right now

danielricciardo: that’s a clone. the REAL max verstappen is laying to my right.

yourusername: this is what we call schizophrenia 🥰

user94: you guys are so cute! (i’m jealous, i’m so fucking jealous)

user95: max started dating his celebrity crush of 8 years in 8 days! we did it joe! we did it

user96: they won’t last. they’re moving to fast.

user97: they’re both grown adults who know what they want 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen1: that’s me!

yourusername; that’s you!

georgerussell63: yeah max we have EYES.

maxverstappen1: don’t be pissy because yn likes me more now

georgerussell63: she does NOT

maxverstappen1: you keep thinking that 😇

charles_leclerc: i always knew he could do it!

maxverstappen1: no you didn’t. stop lying to me.

charles_leclerc: IM SORRY. I WAS GOING TO SHARE THE €50 WITH YOUUU.

maxverstappen1: I DONT CARE @/oscarpiastri is the ONLY know who truly believed in me

oscarpiastri: i bet €100 against you

maxverstappen1: I CANT TRUST ANYONE

alex_albon: does this mean we’ll be invited to more charity events?

user98: you’re just thinking of the food 😐

alex_albon: …yeah

maxverstappen1: 😁🥰👊😏🔥💕🤗

user99: bro starts dating his celebrity crush and forgets how to act

user100: me if i was dating oscar

. . .

notes: thank you for the request! (even though i accidentally deleted it)

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rotary-supercollider · 5 months ago

Text

Average leverage episode

Victim: please mr. Leverage. They bought my orphanage and they’re going to sell all the orphans I need you to stop them

Nate “Leverage” Leverage: I think we can get you some… leverage

Sophie: I’m going to start a bullshit argument now

Nate: please dont

Sophie: it’s going to last the whole episode

Nate: 🙄women (laughtrack)

Hardison: alright this is our mark Mr. Monopoly. He owns 16 weapons companies and took in 100000 billion million dollars last year. He just got into the orphan business and on the weekends he plays puppy golf.

Parker: whats puppy golf

Hardison: it’s like golf but you use puppies

Elliot: I’ve seen it. (snifffs deeply) not fun

Hardison: this guys ruthless. we’re going to be exploiting his one weakness. He really likes having a lot of money

Sophie: how?

Nate: we go steal an abstract concept

*they steal an abstract concept*

The mark: hello. I was impressed by your ownership of an abstract concept

Sophie: we’ll give you 50 trillion dollars for the orphanage

Mark: Zamn!!!

Sophie: 😏 we got him

*1 day later*

Sophie: here’s the 50 trillion dollars (holds up briefcase full of crimes)

The mark: I don’t want your money any more. I have a new plan. I’m goijng to dress all the orphans in hot dog costumes and start a theme park

Sophie: 😦

Elliot: we’re blown

Nate: Sophie throw the briefcase 💼 in the lake

Mark: whoa!! Thats wet money

Sophie: I can give you 5000 more orphans. Meet me at this unmarked warehouse in 6 hours

Mark: awooga

Hardison: Nate do you have a plan?

Nate: not yet

*Fade to black*

Nate: alright the marks on his way. Hardison what’s your 20

Hardison: I need at least 30 minutes to finish this Lego Taj Mahal

Nate: ok I’ll stall

Nate (playing bit character): I cooka da pizza!! Ohhhh (drops full pan of sauce on the marks head instantly killing him) mamma Mia (walks into the sea)

Parker: guys we have a problem

*6 Bad Men materialize out of thin air*

Elliot: 😒I got this 👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊🤛🤜🤛🤜✊🩼✊��🦵✊🤛🚪🦶✊🦵🤌✊🦶👊🦵✊✊��🎷👊👊👊

*the Bad Men disintegrate*

Elliot: shit hes here (dives into a trash can)

*the mark reaches the building. There are orphans waving at him from the windows*

Mark: ok I’m here to take the orphans

The police: SIR YOURE COMING WITH US

Mark: what?? This is a completely legal orphan deal

Police: theres no orphans here

*police man grabs an orphan. Hes flat. Flashback to Hardison setting up 5000 cardboard orphan cutouts*

Mark: but what are you arresting me for??

Police man: sir you filled all of city hall with gravy

*flashback to Nate filling city hall with gravy while wearing a T-shirt that says “Im bad businessman”*

Mark: you can’t do this to me!!

Police: (arrests him)

Nate: heh. You could say he got... Leveraged

Parker: i have autism

Everyone: oh my god Parker shut up

#ro #shitpost #leverage #nate ford #sophie devereaux #Parker leverage #alec hardison #Eliot Spencer

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hopeymchope · 2 years ago

Text

No hardcore fandom has ever died so quickly and so completely as Veronica Mars. This is the story of its murder.

They should study Veronica Mars in Hollywood. I'm serious. It's an incredible story of how to go from "loud, passionate fanbase with its own fandom name that campaigns and advocates constantly for it" to "absolutely zero fucking interest" damn near OVERNIGHT with just ONE epically terri-bad decision.

If you weren't there, you don't understand: From 2007 to 2014, the fandom — the "Marshmallows," as they called themselves — were everywhere in the Internet's geek spaces, my friends. They routinely beat the drum about the series' three seasons and its excellence, lamented its cancellation, pushed others to give the show a try, and always - ALWAYS - proudly and loudly called for the series to be revived.

FULL DISCLOSURE/CONFESSION: I've not even watched that much Veronica Mars, frankly... ? Yeah, I'm sorry! it does seem pretty good from like the four-or-five hours I've experienced firsthand. I just never took the time to sit down with it. Regardless, I find fandoms and their dynamics — both how they operate internally and how they display to others externally — deeply fascinating. And I honestly find them easier to study from the outside than the inside. Like, if I'm IN a fandom, I'm more likely to stay in my corner and ignore places that seem negative. But being on the outside lets me just... absorb what's out there, looking into every forum without judgment. It's like studying pop-culture sociology or something? And it helps that I'm very close to some serious(-ly burnt) Marshmallows. It makes it so much easier to find and absorb the gamut of the fandom.

Besides: There is NO fandom story I've ever seen that's anything like what happened to Veronica Mars and the Marshmallows.

(Time to insert a brief explainer for the uninitiated: Veronica Mars was a TV series that aired from 2004-2007 on the now-deceased UPN network wherein Kristen Bell played the titular character, a high school girl whose single dad was a private detective in the fictional community of Neptune, California. She grew up working "unofficially" as his assistant, which meant that she herself was effectively a teenage private detective.

The three core elements of the series were: 1) Veronica investigating each week's big mystery with plenty of quips and snark, 2) Watching Veronica's various relationships develop and shift, with most of the focus given to a) her relationship to her father and b) Her romantic pursuits (which began as the Veronica/Duncan/Logan triangle before eventually becoming focused on the slow-burn, off-on Veronica/Logan love story), and 3) The gradual development of that season's "mytharc" — the overarching BIG MYSTERY that doesn't get resolved or wrapped until the season finale. So it went over the course of two seasons that took place in high school and the third, shorter season that was at the start of Veronica's collegiate career.)

Just how big and how passionate were the Marshmallows? WELL! When series creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 guy) and star Kristen Bell announced the Kickstarter campaign for the Veronica Mars movie in March 2013, it achieved its heretofore-unprecedented goal of TWO MILLION GODDAMN DOLLARS within less than 12 hours. At that time, it was the biggest Kickstarter goal to ever succeed — and certainly the fastest to reach that kind of height. Fans fell OVER themselves to pay out for it. Hell, my own significant other was DEEP in the tank for VM at the time and invested enough to get multiple t-shirts as backer rewards as well as a disk copy of the movie when it eventually came home.

And AFTER the movie hit in 2014? It was thankfully beloved and embraced! The once-teenage characters were adults who were actually out living on their own and working for a living, but the fandom had grown up with them, so it wasn't like they were begging for them to stay young students. They embraced Adult Veronica and her new adventure. The fandom rejoiced loudly and continued to be all over the geek side of the Internet... where they, of course, still wanted more. Sure, there were new novels in the aftermath (which were written by the creator of the series), but most of the Marshmallows were calling for more movies or a streaming revival.

And then, at long last... season four was actually announced. And there was much (premature) rejoicing yet again.

Yes, Veronica Mars returned for a fourth season on Hulu in 2019. It was just eight episodes, and it was heavily centered on one season-long mystery instead of sprinkling that amongst a bunch of smaller ones, but it would still feature the same ol' Veronica. They promised a new, more "adult" mystery/investigation plus a strong focus on Veronica and Logan's love story.

New Hulu purchased the rights to the first three seasons and hyped up its presence on the platform while marketing the return for the new run. The marketing team played up the most popular quips from the show's history plus put out TONS of stuff centered on the Logan/Veronica ship to pump up the fans.

The season was dropped all at once using the classic Netflix "binge" model in July 2019. And then... afterwards?

There was a brief explosion of LOUD RAGE from the Marshmallows at what series creator Rob Thomas had to done to burn and spite the fandom and ruin his own goodwill.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: See, at the end of the movie, Veronica and Logan finally entered into a long-term relationship. In season four, they've been dating for years, and Logan proposes marriage. But of course there has to be drama/obstacles: In this case, Veronica isn't sure she's ready to marry... or capable of being in a marriage. Ah, but of course she eventually realizes how much Logan means to her. The two are married, and, in the season finale... Logan is killed by a car bomb in the penultimate scene. The final scene is a flashfoward to a year later, where Veronica leaves Neptune alone.

For most fandoms, that'd be a memorable point of pain. A big ol' speed bump that ultimately throws some people off the bus, leaving only the die-hards. But the fact that fans had been invested in this relationship for literally 15 years and that Hulu (and creator Rob Thomas) had heavily marketed the new season as being a big romantic event for the ship... it was too much. Unlike the aftermath of the Star Wars sequels, there was no lingering group of die-hard fans who were open to whatever was next — at least no significant one. I did some Googling and could only find TWO people who still wanted another season.

Funnily enough? Critics LOVED this. Hell, Vanity Fair infamously penned an editorial about how Veronica Mars had "finally grown up" with this finale. I suppose all the other murders and deaths and drug overdoses and r*pe weren't "mature" enough before now for... some... reason. (The same editorial also featured the author openly hating on Veronica ever being in a relationship because it causes "arrested development" and declaring that the movie -- which was acclaimed by both critics AND fans alike, I remind you -- was a lame dud. So. The writer must be a reeeaaaal fun person.)

But a series doesn't live based on critical acclaim, as it turns out. The fandom was murdered overnight. "Marshmallows" stopped appearing in geek spaces online entirely. No one expressed interest in seeing the next season or the next movie. The constant flow of fan AMVs on YouTube and fanfics on AO3 dried up to nothing or damn nearly so.

Since 2019 ? Nothing. Chirping crickets. An intensely dedicated fandom of 12 years was just... vaporized.

I've never seen anything like it before OR since.

That's why it's so fucking fascinating.

So what went wrong?

Creator Rob Thomas was adamant about two things: ONE, the series was intended to be a noir show, which meant there couldn't be any happiness for its protagonist. And TWO, the death of Logan was necessary to evolve and grow the series.

Thomas thought that having Veronica in a relationship would be holding her back, and that a marriage would absolutely kill the series and leave her stagnant. It never even occurred to him that marriage isn't the end of a character's life and growth. It never occurred to him that plenty of drama can be had AFTER someone is married, or that development/growth could be that the characters mature enough to be capable of maintaining a committed relationship. Thomas' view of his own universe was so myopic that he couldn't conceive of any possible way that Veronica could still be a private detective involved in life-threatening investigations AND be married at the same time. Futhermore, he felt that fans just wanted Veronica to become a pregnant housewife, which is about as far from what Marshmallows were after as you can get without straight-up killing Veronica and/or Logan. He managed to do the only thing wronger than what he wrongly thought was their insistence.

On top of the above, Rob Thomas only viewed "noir" as a vehicle for total fatalism... despite the fact that many of the most famous noir stories are cynical and full of moral ambiguity, but they still feature a positive outcome. The Big Sleep still has the protagonist get the girl. The Set-Up arguably ends with the happiest possible ending in spite of the beating the hero receives.

Perhaps most importantly? Despite Thomas own insistence that Veronica Mars was always "noir," the majority of both TV critics and fans did not think that designation ever truly applied. I suspect that's the reason why Thomas decided to go as dark and fatalistic as possible: He wanted to be noir, and he was being told that he wasn't. So he went so far into noir that he killed his own most popular property.

He was adamant that it was the only way for the series to grow. But as it turns out, it was instead the only way for the series to permanently end. Without that season four finale, a passionate group of fans would still be begging for more. With it? It's over. Nobody fucking cares now.

That's kind of amazing.

#veronica mars #rob thomas #fandom #dead fandom #marshmallows #burnt marshmallows #fandom histories #the death of veronica mars #the day veronica mars died #gifs #television gifs #tv gifs #veronica mars gifs #vmars

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cookinguptales · 1 month ago

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oh my god, I might literally throw a party. I might literally buy myself a cake tonight. thank you, thank you, thank you, Pete Buttigieg.

things that have happened to me specifically while flying american:

being asked to stand in a very long line to check my bag before they'd let me have access to a wheelchair

not being picked up by an attendant in time to get to my flight despite arriving over two hours early

being loaded into a broken accessible bathroom. the door wouldn't close all the way so my naked body was visible to people in the terminal.

being refused restroom access at all, sometimes for hours at a time. I'd say that this one happens about 80% of the time when I fly, especially when getting off the plane.

being denied stops for food at the airport as well

being left outside a restroom for over an hour because the attendant straight-up left. I had to TWEET AT THE AIRPORT FOR HELP because I knew being public was the only thing that would work.

being left on plane for over 45 minutes for the same exact reason. once off the plane, I was left at the gate for an additional hour. my parents, waiting for me at baggage, were frantic. a gate agent got into a screaming match with a wheelchair attendant. it was wild.

having a wheelchair attendant harass me about my homosexuality the entire time they took me through the airport; I'd just come from pride and had an identifying t-shirt. I couldn't get away from them or their lectures about being a good christian.

never being collected for a connecting flight, forcing me to walk or miss the flight. I dislocated my shoulder trying to get there.

once I was loaded onto a shuttle but no one bothered UNloading me, so I had to bang on the glass to get passersby's attention

not being preboarded a solid... I'd say 20% of the time. this is important because preboarding means I don't need to stand for an extended period in a narrow aisle behind people putting their things away, and also provides me with additional space to put away my accessibility devices.

once this happened because the wheelchair attendant was late (as usual) and the gate attendant assured me they'd hold the line so the aisle would be clear. once I got down there, they refused to do this and wanted me to stand for 15 minutes, which would have been incredibly painful while holding my bags. I refused to board until the aisle was clear, so they started directing passengers around my wheelchair. it was only after a passenger straight up refused to board and blocked everyone else that the aisle was cleared and I was allowed to board.

I have also had passengers break rules to take me to the bathroom when I was literally weeping at the gate from how badly I needed to pee and how much I did not want to publicly wet myself. thank you to those passengers. (and the ones that yell that I need to be preboarded when they "forget" to do so.)

I've been told to get off the plane because my wheelchair was there, but got off the plane to find out that it wasn't -- and they wouldn't let me back on the plane. they wanted me to walk to baggage, but I couldn't. I sat down on the filthy floor of the bridge and wouldn't move until they brought a wheelchair, no matter how much they yelled at me and threatened me with security. what a fucking mess.

they have given away my seat near the front of the plane before and forced me to walk to the back of the plane. I was openly sobbing from the pain by the time I made it back there.

things that have happened while flying in general (TSA, other airlines, etc.):

(trigger warning for sexual assault)

TSA giving you the most invasive pat-downs you can imagine. if you remain in your wheelchair, often they will run their hands under your thighs, bottom, and genitalia. the weight of your own body means that I have had fingers part my outer labia through my pants. one I started crying during a pat-down because I am a survivor of CSA and they yelled at me then restarted the pat-down from the top.

I have had attendants refuse to help me with my belongings during security, instead insisting that I get out of the chair and do it myself

I have had security make me get out of the chair, then lose the chair until my legs gave out and I sat on the floor, which also got me yelled at

broken accessible bathrooms have happened at MULTIPLE airports.

delta has broken not one but TWO of my personal wheelchairs

once while boarding an attendant (who was already mad at me because I'd refused to walk up the steep tarmac ramp without wheelchair assistance) grabbed my cane while I was using it and I almost fell. I was never notified that this would be a tarmac boarding to begin with.

once, during a different tarmac boarding, they expected us to go down a flight of stairs, despite me being loaded onto the plane via wheelchair. I would not go down the stairs and they had to call for the lift to be brought. it took about a half hour, and the entire time the attendants kept asking me if I really needed it and wouldn't I just go down the stairs? like I was just being a recalcitrant child and not someone who's broken her ankle stepping off a curb before.

honestly the refusal to let me eat and pee is pretty universal, as is wheelchair attendants ghosting me, refusing to talk to me, acting like they're transporting luggage instead of a person, etc.

believe it or not, that is not an exhaustive list. they're just the first examples that come to mind. whenever I fly and it goes completely smoothly, that's more of a shock.

and like... it's dehumanizing. it really is. not being allowed to go to the restroom? having people refuse to talk to you? being abandoned in random hallways?

I'm always in so much pain after I fly, a fact that is generally worsened by poor treatment at the airport, and even the literal dislocations have hurt less than being treated like I'm less of a human person than my fellow passengers.

so uh. rock on, Buttigieg. fine them into fucking oblivion. I'll be cheering you on the whole way.

#ableism #disability #us politics

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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

Text

Winter Wonderland

Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toto would do anything for reader, some friendly teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a bit of an age gap (reader's late 20s/early 30s), handsy toto, the two of you are kinda drunk, daddy kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight edging, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,772

Author's Note: this one goes out to all the dilf lovers.

merry smutmas series

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

Toto had one last work engagement to do this week before he's officially off for the holidays and it took him to London. So by extension, you made it to London as well.

Your husband had left you in the hotel, promising you that he'll be back in a few hours after doing his final work meeting before he was on holiday break.

When he returns, he finds you in the same spot he left you, on the couch. "Babe, have you not gotten up all day?"He asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I did, I ordered room service so I had to get it from the door," you tell him, eyes glued to the TV.

Toto laughs, making his way over to sit next to you. You lean into the man, his arms wrapped around you and you can still feel the chill on his skin despite him wearing a coat when he was outside. It takes him a second to realize that you weren't in your pyjamas, but you were dressed as if you were going out.

The man looks at you with raised eyebrows, there's a hint of a smile on your face. "I know that look, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Okay I know you're probably tired but we leave for home tomorrow and I really wanna go!"

"Go where?"

"Hyde park," you tell him, showing him the pictures of their winter wonderland on your phone. "I saw the ad already for their winter wonderland today and then I looked it up and I fell into a loophole, so now we have tickets." You smiled sweetly at him - if there was one thing more important to Toto than work, it was you and your happiness.

"Are you serious, y/n?"

"Yes, now come on," you get up, trying to pull him up. Toto huffs, "I have emails to answer." He reluctantly follows you to the door.

"The emails will still be here when you get back," you handed him his coat before putting your own on. "Let's go."

Toto drives, of course - not like he ever lets you drive anyways. The first half hour was just the two of you trying to find your way around, it was a lot more packed than you were expecting but to be fair it was a week until Christmas, so it was to be expected you suppose.

You grab his hand and pull him towards what seems to be a circus tent. Toto looks at you a bit unsure for a moment, "is this.. an actual circus?" He followed you in and his question was answered; it was.

He sits next to you in the back row, the two of you waiting for the show to start. "Are you 5? Why are we at the circus ?"

"I mean, in comparison to you, I basically am." You smiled and he chuckled, his hand in yours as you two watched the show.

He would never admit it to you but he enjoyed doing things like this with you, it was nice to see that you kept a bit of your childishness alive.

After the circus, you made your way around the park once more, taking a million photos and trying out all the games until Toto was lugging around a big bag with stuffed animals.

"Do you think that's enough?" He asks, walking towards the car. You shrugged, "I guess but I'm hungry now."

"Dinner then?" He suggests, nodding to the busy street. You're not, fingers interlocking with your husband as you walk down the street towards no actual destination in mind. You were just hoping to stumble upon a place that wasn't too busy.

And eventually you did, a little restaurant tucked away between all the madness. You and Toto sat at a table by the window, the table covered in junk food and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Did you have fun tonight ?" You asked your husband, popping a fry into your mouth. He shrugs, taking a sip of wine. You can't help but roll your eyes, "you totally did! Don't lie."

Toto laughs, a grin on his face. "Yeah, okay. I did have a little fun, but maybe next time find an indoor activity?"

"Nope," you popped the P, "as your wife, it's my job to make your life unnecessarily complicated, just for fun."

He rolls his eyes, taking some fries off your plate. "You'll be the death of me."

You two ended up topping off the bottle of wine, Toto pays the bill and his fingers interlock with yours as you walk back to the car. The streets have calmed by now, but there's a few people walking around on their way to wherever.

Your husband pulls you into his side, your arm wrapped around his torso as you make it back to the car. The man has you leaning on the hood, his cold hands cupping your cheeks before he kisses you. His hands wander and you blush, stopping him.

"Not here."

"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me." He kisses along your cheek, the tip of his nose cold as it rubs against your skin.

You giggled, giving him a slight shove off of you. "We're in the middle of the street, it's more like stopping you from getting arrested for public indecency."

He laughs, opening the car door for you and letting you get in. Toto's hand rests on your thigh the entire drive back to the hotel and he can barely keep his hands off of you to make it up to the room.

His lips on your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind, the two of you giggling as you attempt to open the door.

"It's not opening," you grumbled, trying to unlock the door.

Toto pulls on the handle a bit, pressing the key to it. "Finally," he says when the lock clicks, "let me unwrap my gift."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at your husband's cheesy use of the words, but you let him drag you into the room and drop you on the bed.

He's careful, even though he's drunk - his movements are exact as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, tossing it into the pile of clothes that's developing on the floor.

"Move your legs, baby." He whispers, moving them up to rest on the edge of the bed as he drops himself down onto his knees. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Toto drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy.

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the red lace that covered your cunt.

You smile, “I know. Wore it just for you, daddy." The name makes the man smile.

Toto can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the red lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much.

He's sick and twisted and pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers wiped on your inner thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.

"I hate you," you grumbled, your husband smiles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You love me."

"Sometimes."

He smiles, standing up to undo his pants. Toto pulls you back to the edge of the bed, one of your legs hitch on his hip as his hand wanders.

Your eyes fixed on his hand that was moving down your chest at the moment. Toto's lips follow his fingers, kissing and leaving little marks as he goes along his way. His tongue brushes over your nipple, your back arches involuntarily; your body betrays you.

Your eyes find his and his hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the bed a little more before he pushes into you. The other ankle is over his shoulder now.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the bed, hair sprawled out in perfect curls, eyes closed and your head tilted back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

He’s never seen a prettiest sight.

He feels you clench around him, the hand on his shoulder digs in, your nails leaving behind their own set of marks. His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again.

“Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of him.

“C’mon pretty girl, want you to cum for me.” he says, knowing it won't be long more, especially not after him leaving you on the edge earlier.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me." He whispers, kissing you softly.

A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge. He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, he follows behind you.

It takes you a second to gather yourself and register that your husband has collapsed on top of you. Your hands rubbing over his back.

"You okay?" you asked him quietly and the man nodded, moving so you two could lay comfortably.

Your leg draped over his, his arm wrapped over your shoulder. You catch him staring at you and you smile, nodding. "What?"

"We should come to London every year."

"Yeah," you nod, resting your head on his chest. "I'd like that."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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kjupchurch-xx · 4 months ago

Text

Conflicting Feelings Part Six

As the morning sunset swept through my hotel room's balcony view, I felt Hugh begin stirring in his sleep, "G'day, gorgeous." He said sleepily as I felt him start stretching.

I smiled, "Good morning, sexy." I purred, leaning up to peck his lips before moving out of the bed towards the bathroom to turn on the shower.

Today was going to be bittersweet. I was going back home today, my stay in LA had come to an end. It was time for me to head back to the East Coast, to the beautiful, busy town of New York City. Hugh was in LA for the filming of the new Deadpool & Wolverine movie, so I'd be going back to NYC solo. Truth be told, I missed my condo in New York, but I knew I'd miss my favorite Aussie even more.

Now that things are beginning to happen, the thought of leaving breaks my heart. I didn't realize I was reacting to my thoughts until his voice interrupted the thoughts racing through my brain. I felt two arms snake around me, "What's wrong, my love?" He asked softly.

I sniffled, quickly wiping a fallen tear from my cheek, "I'm leaving today to go back home." I said as my voice trembled.

He frowned, "Today?" He asked, making sure he heard me correctly. I nodded, staying silent, trying to control my flooding emotions. "Do you have to go back home today?" He asked.

I sighed, "I paid for a round trip, so my flight's already booked. I can't get a refund and I can't afford to lose the money."

He kissed my forehead, "I'll take care of it." He said simply.

I looked at him, shaking my head. "I can't let you do that."

He smiled, "I want to and I can." pecking my lips again.

I rolled my eyes, "I don't want you doing that. I paid for first class and that's not cheap."

He chuckled, "You do realize I make millions, right love? I'm making $20 million from Deadpool. I can assure you a first class plane ticket will not break me."

I shrugged, "And I'm staying where?"

He looked at his phone, "With Noldsy and Blake, and of course me. You have to babysit their kids from time to time, but it's not that bad." He chuckled.

I looked at him, "You seriously want me to cancel my flight?" I asked, grabbing my phone.

He pouted, "I would be heartbroken if you didn't."

I smiled, "And Ryan and Blake are okay with this?" I questioned.

He rolled his eyes, "C'mon, you know Ryan and Blake love you."

I sighed, "Okay, if you insist..." I logged onto my app and canceled my flight, luckily receiving a 50% refund for a last minute cancellation from the flight insurance I'd purchased when I first paid for the ticket. "It's cancelled." I said, throwing my phone down, pulling him into the shower with me.

As we washed off he spoke, "We'll drop your rental car off when we head out. We can take mine back to Ryan and Blake's."

I nodded, "Okay, but I need to make a stop and get some more clothes. I packed for five days and I'm not wearing the same outfits for another week."

He kissed my forehead, while rinsing my hair out, "We can do that."

After our shower and packing up the hotel room, we parted ways to drop off my rental car, Hugh following close behind me in his.

Hugh's POV:

As I followed close behind her, I was overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the course of knowing her. We'd met each other in 2020 when she starred as an extra on a show I was working on. I had very little interaction with her on the show, but backstage was a different story. She approached me and told me how she was starstruck to work with Wolverine, which made me laugh.

She was only 22 years old when I met her, I was 51, turning 52. She was an attractive young woman. She was funny, she was intelligent and she was humble. I thought nothing about her until we'd cut up on set and spent hours talking. She had a boyfriend and I had a wife at home, not to mention I like older women. We'd remained friends until she came to my rescue when my father died. That's when things went wild for me. Several things took place that her pride will not allow her to talk about, but I couldn't stop thinking about them.

When I arrived back to NYC and to Deb, I separated myself from her. COVID made it easier. I kept trying to block the feelings out because I knew they were wrong. I forced myself to focus on Deb, and Deb only, but that only made us grow further apart in our marriage.

While in England, not only did I walk in on her changing and saw her breasts, there was one night she had too much to drink and confessed many things to me that she has no memory of. She talked about her difficult upbringing, she talked about her failed relationships, but she doesn't have any recollection of admitting to me that she loved me and dreamed that one day I'd be hers. Or how if my marriage ever ends, she was claiming me for herself. That night, I'd had a few drinks myself and we shared a kiss.

I thought about how after I walked in on her, she'd became what I'd imagine when I'd wank off. I'd imagine how perfect her breasts were, how I wanted to run my hands down every curve on her body as I fucked her, and how her pussy would taste, or how tight it would be around my fingers. I thought about how much I'd want to pleasure her and make her orgasm so much that she couldn't function anymore. Just the thought of her made my dick throb.

But, it was more than just sex with her. She was genuinely my favorite human being, besides my children and of course, Ryan Reynolds. She was there for me during one of the hardest times of my life. She keeps me grounded and focused on the bigger picture, even if I struggle to see it. I'd spent 20 years thinking I was with the love of my life, until I realized I didn't know the meaning of it when she came to England that night.

Main Reader's POV:

As we arrived at the drop-off for the rental car, I quickly returned the keys, heading back outside only to be bombarded by photographers. They photographed Hugh, me, us in the car together, etc as they asked if we were an item.

"They're fucking relentless, jesus christ." I mumbled.

He chuckled, "You act like you haven't had the press bother you."

I giggled, "Not to that extent. That was different."

He reached over grabbing my hand, interlocking it with his, bringing it to his lips, placing a small kiss on my knuckles, "Did you want to get clothes now?"

I blushed, shaking my head, "Let's get to Ryan's first. Let them calm down and then we'll go." I said regarding the photographers.

He chuckled, "Okay, we can do that."

The drive to Ryan's wasn't long. It was full of Hugh singing along to songs on the radio. He had a beautiful voice and hearing it on screen was nothing compared to hearing it in person. About 5 minutes later, we arrived at Ryan's place. Ryan and Blake weren't home. Ryan was filming scenes and Blake was promoting her new movie. The kids were with a nanny since Nanny Hugh had been MIA all weekend.

As we walked in and made it to the bedroom Hugh was staying in, he ran his fingers through his beard, "I've gotta shave this." He said to himself.

I smirked, "Can I help?"

He giggled, "Can you do the Wolverine shave? It has to be perfect for the film."

I shrugged, "It can't be too hard to shave mutton chops."

"Shawn will kill me if you fuck this up." He laughed, handing me a set of clippers.

I giggled, grabbing them. "I won't fuck this up. Do you know how in love with Logan I was as a child?"

He playfully rolled his eyes, "Don't say it like that. It makes me feel old and it's making me feel weird. You know I was 32 or 33 when I filmed that."

I shrugged, "I was 4 when it was released."

He cringed, "God, stop. Let's talk about something else."

I chuckled as I began shaving the infamous mutton chops, "I love making you uncomfortable." I said playfully.

He looked up at me, "I'm not giving you a reaction while you're shaving my face, but I've noticed."

As I finished up showing him my kick ass skills as a barber, we heard a voice downstairs, "Oh, Hugh! Where you at big fella?! It's your favorite Canadian. A little birdie called the media just told me you're with a hot little number. Is she here?"

We quickly jumped at the sound of his voice, looking at one another, making a run for the door to meet him downstairs. Ryan looked at us, still wearing the Deadpool suit, "Ah, there she is. Hot little number, this is my humble abode" He chuckled as he swayed his arms around showing me his living room.

"Why are you in your suit, mate? They actually let you bring Deadpool's suit home?" Hugh asked, smirking, knowing Ryan was instructed to not leave set with the suit.

Ryan smirked, "Sir, I will have you know, I stole this suit."

I joked, "Levy is going to beat you."

Ryan laughed, "He can try, but no one can beat me in this suit, darling."

I rolled my eyes, "Mutton Chops! Look at you." He exclaimed at Hugh, noticing the freshly shaved face.

Hugh laughed as Ryan's face got serious, "Seriously though, I have a question for you." He said, pointing towards me.

"And that is?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

Ryan looked at Hugh and I, "We're rounding up people to play the Deadpool variants. Blake is Lady Deadpool, but there's another female one. Do you want to do it?" He asked.

I gasped, "Are you serious?" my eyes widened.

He smirked, "As a heart attack, sister. Plus, I figured it would give Hughy here more time to spend with you."

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strawberrychampayne · 2 months ago

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you can't be this oblivious

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: none except like one swear word lol.

word count: 1026

summary: oblivious!bradley x affectionate!reader!! reader is super affectionate to everyone but it is different with bradley. She’s sweet to everyone but she isn’t sitting at a table for 30 mins and letting just anyone rant about their day, unless they are rooster.

Y/N Y/L/N, aka Magnet was just that. A Magnet.

“And then they had me doing pushups because I made a snarky comment according to them.”

Bradley Bradshaw better known as Rooster was someone you would consider a best friend. Though Phoenix would argue he’d be more than that if he wasn’t so oblivious.

“I mean what did you expect Roo? I would’ve had you doing the same thing.” she giggled into her glass.

They had been at the Hard Deck for around two hours now, coming right after they got off. It felt like a ritual at this point. Work, Hard Deck, go home and then repeat. There were a million other things they could all do and yet they always came here. Maybe it was the atmosphere that cheered them up after a long day. Or the beer.

What she hadn’t expected was sitting at a table for the last 30 minutes with Rooster ranting about the trouble he’d gotten in earlier, she didn’t mind that though. She could listen to him talk forever. There were very few times that Rooster felt comfortable enough to share things so anytime he did, she took it seriously.

“You wouldn’t even think to punish me Mag, we both know that.” Rooster replied with a smirk playing on his lips.

She often thought of what it would be like to kiss him. Would his lips be soft and plushy or more rough like he pretended to be. She liked to believe it would be the first option. She’d never get to really know though as it seemed he never reciprocated the feelings she was putting out.

“You don’t know what I would do, Rooster. I could make you do 20 pushups right now.” she said

“And I would do them.” he said, a twinkle in his eye or maybe it was the lighting.

She gasped quietly hoping he didn’t hear. Flirty Rooster only came out after a couple of drinks. She had heard the phrase that drunk words are sober thoughts. Never really believing it though, he never had so much to drink he couldn’t remember saying something so eye raising to his supposed best friend.

“The worst thing about all this extra work is I feel like I have no time to eat something good. It’s always some fries from here and a couple beers” he continued, brushing past his previous statement.

Coming back to her senses she spoke quickly, “We could go out together. I mean all I do is drink a couple of beers here.”

She felt him tense up. Preparing for the worst she thought of a way to recover.

“You are truly my best friend. I mean nobody else would’ve offered to do something like that.” Rooster spoke up before she could backtrack.

Her heart cracked slightly. Best Friend. Who knew two words could hurt so much. Glancing to her right she could see Hangman and Phoenix cringing at the sight. Warmth flooded her body as she began to stand up.

“Hey where are you going?” he questioned following her up.

“Yeah um, my head is starting to hurt so I think I’m just going to head home. I’ll see you tomorrow Bradley.” she said as she turned to walk away.

Bradley? She only called him by his first name when she was upset or poking fun at him.

“Well at least let me take you home? I mean I brought you here.” he rushed out.

“No. It’s fine I’ll call an uber.” she pushed past a few people and walked out the door.

Shoulders slumping Rooster glanced out the window at the woman. Phone in hand she was true to her word in calling an uber. He felt a pang in his heart watching her. Had he done something wrong?

A hand clapped against his shoulder. He could smell the cologne and know who it was before even turning his head.

“Well that was a shit show. I mean come on, Rooster, you can’t be this oblivious.” Hangman said with a cocky smile.

Shrugging his hand off Rooster turned his head; the muscles in his jaw contracting, “What do you mean, Hangman? Oblivious to what?”

Hangman laughed at him, “You’re meaning to tell me that you haven’t realized that Magnet has been flirting with you ever since she met you? I mean she practically asked you on a date a few minutes ago.”

Was that a ringing in his ears? Y/N flirting with him? Bradley felt like his head was going to combust where he stood.

“And there's the look of realization. You really must’ve been oblivious.” Hangman added.

“I think you’ve gotten this all mixed up. I mean Y/N is close and affectionate with everyone. She leans her head on your shoulder, gossips with Phoenix, and is constantly fixing Bob's glasses. And with me she just leans up against me, compliments me and listens to me rant and she-” Rooster took a pause. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I mean Rooster, Y/N is an affectionate person for sure. But she has never once listened to one of my rants and she’s the only one who'll listen to yours.” Hangman said, an almost serious look on his face.

“I just watched my future wife walk out that door after asking me on a date.” Bradley said.

“Well hold on nobody said she was-” Hangman started before Rooster talked over him.

“No Hangman, trust me I know. That is going to be my wife. As long as I haven’t ruined everything.” Rooster said, confidence in his voice.

“Well then I guess you should go get your wife to be.” Hangman said, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah I’ve got to go.” Rooster took off out of the bar and to his car.

“I cannot believe it took him that long to realize that.” Phoenix said, walking up besides Hangman.

“He’s a little oblivious but we got there. Hope he has a gorgeous ring to propose with. Claims that’s his wife to be” Hangman replied.

“I don’t doubt that.” Phoenix remarked quietly, watching Rooster peel out of the parking lot.

let me know if anyone wants a part 2!

part 2:

!!!please don't repost my work anywhere, translate, or bind my works anywhere without permission!!!

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #miles teller #x reader #fanfic

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m00nsbaby · 1 year ago

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Falling asleep on their shoulders.

A bunch of headcanons about how would they feel. :) (Moon system x reader.) Steven.

In a million years, he would never have accepted a work outing when he could be in his comfortable apartment with Gus, reading a new book.

Until he found out that you would be going.

He never imagined that an amusement park could be so much fun. He had never been to one before.

Or maybe he had, but he doesn't remember.

You separated from the group as soon as you arrived. Steven thought he would like to be as carefree as you when you took his hand and walked without a trace of nervousness or fear.

You talked all day, about anything and everything.

"You're very interesting, Steven." It was probably the sweetest thing he had ever heard. His blush made you feel satisfied.

For the rest of the day, you made sure he knew you were interested in him.

You also mentally noted how his lips brushed against your fingers when you offered him some of your cotton candy.

You held hands again when you rode the tallest roller coaster in the park.

Oh, and you kept the photograph.

"Shall we go see the Aqualoop?" "See it or...?" "Get splashed, I mean." He couldn't say no. Both of you were like a pair of children enjoying the day.

Adult life hadn't given you the chance to enjoy yourselves like this in a long time.

Both of you closed your eyes tightly as the water splashed over you, drenching you from head to toe. You both laughed until your stomach hurt, and Steven brushed a wet strand of hair from your face.

Having him so close made your heart skip a beat.

You spent the rest of the day dripping wet, enjoying the sun on your skin and the warm air drying your hair.

You shared food as the evening approached, and you discovered that vegan food was much better than you had imagined, while Steven ate half of your french fries.

As the park was about to close, you met up with the others at the exit.

Both of you insisted on declining the ride J.B. offered, as your clothes were still wet.

After 20 long minutes of arguing, you accepted on behalf of yourself and Steven.

Or Scotty, as J.B. had called him, making you struggle to hold back your laughter.

The space in the back seat was limited, and your body was squeezed between Steven and the car door, but you couldn't say you were uncomfortable.

His body emitted a delightful warmth.

A yawn escaped you.

"Are you tired?" Steven's whisper near you broke the complete silence in the car.

You silently nodded, rubbing one of your eyes with your hand.

If only he had the courage to tell you how adorable he thought you were.

Minutes of silence passed, your breathing became slower and heavier, and your head gradually leaned to the side as you began to fall asleep.

And it happened. Your cheek ended up against Steven's shoulder.

He almost vomited from excitement, not exaggerating. Needless to say, he was the type of person who simply assumed he would die of natural causes before moving or telling you that his shoulder had become tired.

After a few minutes, you shifted, slipping an arm underneath his and intertwining your fingers together, returning to your place on his shoulder after.

He allowed himself to finally smile.

And the hours it took him to gather the courage finally culminated in the best part of the night. He leaned in enough to kiss your forehead.

You smiled too, without opening your eyes.

Marc.

One day, you had to explode, and he knew it.

His plans were always thwarted because Khonshu interfered with his sudden missions that not only meant pausing whatever you were doing, but also meant that Marc would disappear completely from the radar for God knows how many days.

It was strange when he returned, too. It took him days to return to normal, if you were lucky enough he would tell you what had happened, only partially.

"It's always the same!" You finally screamed at your breaking point. Tears overflowed from your eyes as you quickly packed your clothes into your suitcase. You didn't care if the clothes became even more wrinkled.

"You knew it would be like this, I told you." Marc had the migraine of the century.

You shouted at each other for a while, and the maid looked at you as if you were crazy.

To be fair, you sounded like it.

The argument came to a close when Marc went too far with his words. You didn't argue often, but when you did, it always ended like this.

You cried the whole way to the bus station. And you almost started another argument when you pushed your boyfriend's hand away to prevent him from grabbing your suitcase.

If only he had the strength to set aside his pride for once, he would have apologized the moment the tip of your nose turned red.

You wished you could switch places with a stranger to avoid hours of travel with him.

But it didn't happen.

You felt like the thousand times you cried yourself to exhaustion as a child. You even let out a yawn within the first 15 minutes of the trip.

It didn't take long for you to succumb to physical and emotional exhaustion, thinking that sleeping would make time pass faster and you would be away from him sooner.

He was so focused on avoiding your gaze by looking out the window that he didn't even notice when you fell asleep.

Until your head landed on his shoulder with a sudden turn in the road.

Marc's body tensed. He was too stubborn to give in instantly, but at the same time, he was too in love to push you away.

He looked at you, and his chest tightened.

You looked so vulnerable. So tender and small. How could he hurt you if he loved you so much?

Unbeknownst to him, a barely noticeable pout formed on his lower lip.

"I love you," he whispered, more to himself than to you. He was almost consoling himself in the pain of having to carry the regret of his words.

"I love you with all my heart," he repeated.

It was futile, you were deeply asleep.

He made his decision and closed his eyes, leaning his head against yours to find comfort.

He would sleep by your side, feeling the warmth of your body, and when you woke up, he would apologize to you as many times as necessary.

Even if it meant having to make it up to you with other vacations.

Jake.

You never exchanged words unless it was necessary.

You knew his name, he knew yours, and that you were good at fighting together. Unfortunately, you didn't have a "magical" suit to help with that.

You stared out the window, suppressing the urge to moan in pain every time the taxi jolted on the road. You had survived worse things than a twisted ankle and a possible broken rib.

Jake didn't look at you, only when he heard you hiss or take a deep breath because of the discomfort you were in.

"We're close to the hotel," he reassured you, even though it was a lie. You were in the middle of nowhere, trusting that the driver had the correct directions.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against the cold window.

Five more minutes passed, and there were no signs of life on the road, but the pain became more bearable as exhaustion started clouding your perception.

Every time you were about to fall asleep, a tap of your forehead against the window would wake you up.

And you didn't even notice his gaze on you.

After the seventh hit, Jake lost his patience.

"Eso no va a funcionar, cariño." You didn't understand, and you couldn't be bothered to understand as you kept your eyes closed.

The last thing you felt was his body moving closer to yours.

You yielded, your body finally relaxing as you managed to fall asleep. It was easier for Jake to wrap his arm around your shoulders and gently push you against his, allowing you to rest.

Almost immediately, he regretted it.

Jake didn't have this kind of closeness with anyone. His interactions with other people always involved punches, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but pain was always present.

Was it normal for his heart to race like this? He would investigate later.

You moved your head slightly to snuggle better against his shoulder as he held his breath, trying not to make the slightest movement that could wake you.

"¿Cuánto va a ser?" he asked in a low tone so that the driver would understand his concern about not disturbing you.

The driver pointed to the meter in silence. Well, he encountered someone even quieter than himself.

Jake lost count of how many times he whispered in your ear, "Shh, cariño." (although sometimes he changed the endearment to "cielo" or "corazón") as a way to lull you in his arms whenever you shifted in your seat.

When you arrived, he paid in silence, as usual.

He didn't wake you up, in fact, he did his best to be as stealthy as possible.

He slid one of his arms under your legs, wrapped the other around you, and lifted you up like a bride.

Jake was careful, but not so much that your reflexes didn't catch the movement.

You woke up, but never opened your eyes; you simply nestled closer to his chest and enjoyed his care.

Tomorrow you would both face whatever you had to face.

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charmedbystars · 11 months ago

Text

for the plot...?

pairing: e-42 miles x reader

summary: just press send.

content: ONE CURSE WORD

a/n: I HAVE BEEN OUT OF THE LOOP! these past few months have been crazy! i've moved like 4 times in just a couple months, it's insane... also i wrote this in life 20 minutes sooooo..

part two here!

you could hear the commotion going on outside your room. parents invited everyone they knew over to party. it was the 31st of december, the day that everyone anxiously waits for so they can have a “fresh start”. sometimes you thought it was a little weird… like why are you waiting for the next year when it’s any other day. sometimes you think people just use it as an excuse to hold off, “i’ll start working out next year” or “i’m gonna start learning to love myself this new year”. if you were ever making goals then it was just knowing who your real ones are or leaving all the bad last year.

now just two minutes before the countdown started, you were staring down at your phone with uncertainty. the four words that you never thought you would send was now drafted, thumb hovering over to send it at the perfect time. thumb against your teeth, as your eyes darted around your room. millions of thoughts were running through your mind to hype yourself up to just press send.

a couple months earlier, you and your now ex-boyfriend, miles, were in a relationship. it was a good relationship, except it would always get rocky when conversations of making time for each other came up or the topic of the prowler slipped while talking.

you knew everything, but sometimes you just wished that he would focus on himself. you just wanted for him to clear his head for a couple hours and think like a regular 15 year old.

so, that being so, you both broke up mutually. you both agreed that you guys didn’t want to end up having a bad argument and it spiraling into a bad break up, so mutual it was. you guys didn’t speak that much after, just nods to acknowledge each other when walking down the halls of school or down the streets of brooklyn, or sometimes you guys would occasionally partner up for school projects. then, months passed by and it was as it you guys went full no contact, although sometimes glances were tossed here and there and you could feel that there was still a connection.

which brings you back to now, thumb hovering over the “send” button. glancing at the time, it was 11:59PM. couple seconds later you hear the people in your living room starting to countdown.

“ten!”

okay i can do this

“nine!”

if it doesn’t work then this year is for myself

…

“five!”

mmm i can’t back outttt

“two!”

oh fuck it

“one!”

i’m just gonna do it for the plot. was your last thought as your quickly hit the sent button. you sighed as if that simple tap took everything out of you.

“new year, new us?”

you read the message you sent before shutting off your phone and deciding to walk into the living room, when you felt a little vibrate just a few seconds later.

*miles liked your message*

“wsg ma?”

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tinydefector · 3 months ago

Note

Hi Tiny, all the sparklings and babies talk are so sweet to read. But, what if Tarn and their little human get the news that they are expecting sparklings (I thought that having twins would be so much funny). Would the DJD take it good or they will all start panicing at the idea of two sparklings roaming around the Peaceful Tyrany.

And just for the giggles, I imagine the reveal something like this:

Nickel: well yep, there is no denial. There are two sparkling in development.

Tarn: But, but, how did this happened in the first place?

Human: well Tarn, we where both in your berth and...

Nickel: PLEASE STOP RIGHT THERE!!

Tarn's Sparklings

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, pregnancy issues, (slight mention of abortions)

Ohhhhh this is something I was excited to talk about since I have some stuff over the biology of humans and cybertronians. Such as how rare it is for bots to ever have twins due to the danger of carrying a sparkling, time it takes for one to develop. And I think it be amusing for them to witness how kinda carefree a human is hearing they are having twins.

Info is over in this piece from

Human Effects

Also, some other information since I thought I'd add the difference for time between humans and cybertronians took me a while to make this so hope you enjoy. (Ps this is what took this request so long XD)

- Nanoklik - 1 second

- Klik - 1.2 minutes

- Breem - 8.3 minutes

- Groon - 1 hour

- Joor - 6 hours

- Orn - about 1 day (20-25 hours)

- Cycle - 1.2 weeks

- Orbital cycle - 1 Earth month (29.5 days)

- Deca-cycle - 3 months

- Stellar cycle - 1.3 years

- Vorn - 83-100 years

- Mega-vorn - over a million earth years

________

Tarn is terrified when he gets the news, mind you Cybertronian and human biology is quite different and he's panicking over the fact this his human is not just carrying one spark which in itself is a very dangerous process for a Cybertronian but they are carrying two. So he's on the verge of a system meltdown.

Nickel looks over the scans as worry slowly takes hold on her face. " it looks like a split-spark sparkling." it makes Tarns field nearly cry out in agony. His little human was sparked with his bitlet, but it was a split spark. No one knows what to really do it's the first time they have really dealt with this situation.

The human just kind of sits there stunned for a moment. "I'm pregnant?" They ask in shock, wanting to see the images, "Please show me, " they ask while Trepan and Nickel both give weary glances to each other and then to Tarn. He gives them both a slow nod to let his little lover look at the scans.

Their eyes are so wide and bright as they look over the scans, fingers slowly tracing the outline as Nickel slowly explains what has happened. She's trying to be subtle about the face of the split spark situation. "If you look here, you can see the outline of the other," she says softly, and it makes Tarn take a deep vent as he watches his human excitedly trace the outline of both protoforms. "I have twins!, woah they are so small," they state in excitement. Turning to Tarn with the biggest smile he had ever seen on their lips.

"Nickel, how did this happen?" He asks rather grimly even as he watches them excitedly look at the scans. "In truth, I don't know, human DNA shouldn't be compatible with us, and how the split happened, it's mostly due to the different in species," she explains.

The rest of the DJD are walking on eggshells because of this. Nickel is doing everything she can to make sure that at least one of the sparks survives this process, Trepan is actually called into help, he maybe a mnemosurgeon just at this point Nickel and himself are the only ones with some sort of doctorate.

The Peaceful Tyranny is in absolute chaos, but no one is willing to say anything because if Tarn has a crash because of this, the whole ship and crew is in danger. And it gets even funny because the cybertronians are rushing around panicking, trying to figure something out, and the human is just sitting there like. "Woah, this is great, I haven't had morning sickness. Half the shit people told me I'd have hasn't happened" and non of the cybertronians can figure out why the human isn't panicking over the fact of have a split-spark sparklings.

And then, one day, Nickel is nearly barging in to get Tarn. "Sir, this is important. I need you in the medical lab now," and he reluctantly leaves his lover's side, who is still curled up in blankets on his berth.

Tarn follows Nickel to find out what's happened, worried it's news about the split and the need to terminate. Nickel pulls up new information with the fact of some rather recent human cybertronian relationships involving the human having a sparkling. "These records have only just been released, I was starting to think we weren't the only one in this situation and asked around, don't get mad but I got into contact with some others in the medical field, kept it very vague. But there have been a few human-cybertronian sparklings, " she states, and it makes Tarn go stiff in silence, not knowing whether to be angry and relieved.

"I've also done alot of research into human biology due to your situation, I believe the split spark is viable, there have been thousands of recorded cases of humans carry not only two but up to five young at once. It sounds strange but my recommendation is to go about it the same way you would if it was a single spark with a Cybertronian, they will need transfusions, surprisingly the human body temperature is the perfect temperature for sparkling" she explains while finally relaxing into a seat as Tarn just stares.

"There's records... how long is gestation?" He asked wearily. " less than 3 stellar cycles, that's over multiple different records I've found" it's news, news that Tarn wasn't expecting at all most cases of Cybertronians with sparklings the gestational time was a Vorn, but to be less that 3 stellar cycles sounds like it was a lie. he's been watching his lover waiting to see the signs of frame deterioration, but so far, he hadn't seen any. He lets out a low sound as if in thought.

"Are you positive?" He finally ask, despite wearing a mask, he was terrific underneath it, originally he wouldn't admit to being in love with his little human but everyone knew he was, he knew so too, and he was terrified of losing them. "Tarn, I can't say for sure, but their species seem the best suited for this. But if they don't get the fusions needed for growing sparks, it will be an issue, protoforms need fuel. And enough for your field to be able to know that you are their Sire. " Nickel finishes, it was a lot to take in, a lot to take on a whimp of information.

And that's how the next three humans years went, him very cautious, watching his lover making sure they had everything needed, it became the most inactive the DJD had been. He slowly watched the way his lover's stomach swelled, feeling the field of his sparklings calling out to him whenever he ventured too far from his human.

But the day they were born will stick with him forever, he thought his human was dying, listening to them cry out in pain, he had them at medical faster than anyone would expect for a Tank frame, he doesn't pace, he sits there watching the sweat bead down their forehead, it's only when Nickel hold out the two tiny Protoforms does he nearly crawl his way over to hold the two little forms. It's almost like instinct and he has them both settled in his sparkchamber wrapped around his spark.

And they he's checking his little lover tracing his digits across their face, trying to calm them and let them know they they did amazing, both their little sparks made it and had latched onto his spark.

The months after are true chaos, as the two sparklings develop more, they get more time away from Tarns Spark, and their frames begin to take form. He watches the way to curl around their carrier, chirp, and coo in delight. In truth, he never saw himself in this position being a sire to young sparks, yet watching the way these two little bitlets grow over time, he wants nothing more than to make sure they are safe he himself curls around his little family pulling his lover closer as the two sparklings scale his frame cooing in delight.

_______________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

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@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

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@chaihena

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#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers x reader #mtmte #transformers lost light #idw tarn #tarn #mtmte tarn #tarn mtmte #tarn idw #transformers tarn #tarn transformers #tarn x human #tarn x reader

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erinwantstowrite · 3 months ago

Note

opinions on ai?

This is the perfect time to share something I wrote a few months ago when I was upset about it:

AI is the bane of my existence and I hate it so much. Not only because of the environmental impact that it has, but because of how it gives us absolutely nothing of value in creative spaces and is actually a detriment to our future, rather than being "innovative" like companies want us to believe.

If you're using AI to write notes for you, or to answer questions, to write your essays and your discussion posts, you are hurting yourself. But eventually you will hurt others with your willing ignorance. You are not learning, you are not taking the time to push yourself to new bounds. You are not absorbing the information you need, and for why? Because it's hard? Life is hard. Learning is hard. If learning was easy, you wouldn't be learning anything at all. And one day when you need to use these tools you put down and gave to a program in order to do your job, you are going to get someone hurt in some way. If you're going into teaching and you didn't bother to learn about childhood development because you let an AI take your notes because you couldn't be half-assed to sit through an hour long lecture, you will fail every student that comes your way. If you're an engineer and you had AI do the math for you, something that you make will break and it could kill someone. Because the AI can not even count how many times the letter 'r' is in strawberry, but you're trusting it to make bridges or design buildings?

And in a creative sense, you are not an artist if you use AI. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to.

You are not an artist if you use AI.

Because to be an artist is to put your very soul into what you create. And an AI has no soul. To be an artist is to lay yourself bare for people to witness and interpret, and it's scary but it's freeing. To be an artist is to make a message with your art, to have people a thousand years from now sit in a museum and feel connected to who you were so far in the past. To think that humanity may be different but we are also inherently the same. To be an artist is to despair over the process of creating your art because it's difficult, and time consuming, and damn does it drive you crazy. But then you get that end result and you realize you learned something about yourself, you got better at something that brings you joy, you created and now you see what you are capable of, and what you will be capable of in the future. To be an artist is to connect with someone because of what you made, and that someone includes yourself.

We keep telling young artists that they need to be better now, they need to quit if they aren't good at it on the first try. We keep acting like we didn't start from somewhere ourselves, like we were born with the fine motor skills and the talent needed to create. It's because our attention spans can't handle over 20 seconds and we need multiple videos playing to drown out our own thoughts. We have to look at comment sections to see the court of public opinion before we make a judgement ourselves. If anything is out of the ordinary or doesn't look the way we expect or want, it must be shamed. And this existence is exhausting because at the end of the day, we have done nothing of value. When coming across a video of a young artist who took the time out of their day to create, we need to encourage them to continue going, tell them that their work is worthy. Because it is. It is worthy because they made it. If we shoot them down before they can go anywhere, we've just killed an artist that could have painted the next Starry Night, or created a sculpture that millions of people would try to visit. We've shot down someone who could teach others how to create one day in their future. We shot them down and killed their inspiration and motivation, and they might turn to someone else to do it for them because they will believe they are not worthy enough or talented enough to make it.

When I was still in school, my favorite part of the year was seeing the projects put up on the wall. The silly displays our teachers put up to show a holiday with slightly wonky paper snowflakes, the posters that the art students made with "too many lightning bolts around the guitar", the signs for school dances, the yearbooks that students spent all year making, the English class posters that depicted scenes from what they were reading and they were made with stick figures or they had someone draw out butterflies. I loved seeing the decorations for Homecoming Week, loved looking ta the booths that everyone made for our career and science fairs. I liked when we put on talent shows still, when we did pep rallies and fashion shows and we saw everyone get together to have fun and not care if it was "perfect." No one there was a professional artist, not yet, but that didn't make it any less entertaining or creative.

We dance because we want to feel how our bodies move and express ourselves in ways words cannot. We paint and we draw and make pottery and quilts and pictures because at one point, all we had were cave paintings of our hands, and we still look at them with reverence for where we started. We sing and we drum and we laugh because music is a universal language that anyone can understand, and isn't that breathtaking? We write so that people in the future can pour themselves over our words and learn from us, so that kids can hide their books underneath their covers with a little flashlight when their parents put them to bed hours ago but they just can't put our story down they have to know what comes next! We cook for our loved ones and have family recipes that mean we've been tasting the same food that our family we never got to meet were eating too.

We create because humans are meant to create. We put our love into the process, we put our dreams and our hopes and our hard earned lessons into these creations.

AI will never have that. AI has none of the process, and therefore, it is not art. We can gripe about how art has different meanings all we want, we can shout that art is only art if it invokes an opinion or a thought, but that is not what makes art. Because there is still effort put into placing a shoe on a pedestal, or painting a yellow square, or painting a mural on a wall, or writing poetry in a tiny notebook at school, or melting crayons together, or anything that requires you putting it together. If AI is doing all the work for you, then you've accomplished nothing. And you stole from the people that actually did accomplish something. You stole not only their effort, but you stole their process, their feelings, their hope and their dreams and their ideas of the future.

AI is nothing and will ultimately become obsolete. Because humans will not stop creating just because companies are pushing for us to stop and hand it over to them. They want us to stop creating, they want us to pay them for it, they want us to put blind trust into what they're doing, they want us to forget that they are stealing from us. I will not forget. I will never forget. Because I was born to sing and dance and write and draw and cook, and when I die, my body will go right back to the Earth and perhaps flowers will grow around my grave. I will still be creating even then. And even if AI is still around and still trying to steal from us, I will die knowing that it could never do the same.

#ai #ai is a plague #ai is not art #ai is theft #ai is stupid #ai will never be worth it #ban ai art #ban ai #fuck ai #erinwantstowrite #writing #i want to die knowing my art made an impact #they want to take that art and make it a profit #that is the difference between us

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metamorphesque · 3 months ago

Text

On March 1, 1984, a short article titled "Imprisoned Armenian Dies" appeared in the New York Times: “Gourgen Migirdic Yanikian, an Armenian author and engineer who killed two Turkish consular officials in California in 1973, died Monday in prison of natural causes. He was 88 years old. He was sentenced to life in prison in July 1973 for first-degree murder."

But who was this man? And why did he commit this "crime"?

Gourgen Yanikyan was born on December 24, 1895, in the city of Karin, Western Armenia, into a traditional Armenian family. Gourgen was six months old when the hamidian massacres began, claiming the lives of approximately 300,000 Armenians. His father had good relations with the Persian consul in Karin, and with the consul's help, the Yanikyan family found refuge in the Persian consulate, escaping the massacres. After two weeks of safety, they were transferred by a mountain road to the village of Kyotah near Kars on the consul’s orders. Suddenly, it was discovered that Gourgen was missing. He had fallen on the road from his mother’s arms that were numbed from the cold. Despite the danger, his mother and brother Hakob went back and, after walking about six kilometers, found Gourgen nearly lifeless. They revived him with the warmth of their bodies.

Six years later, the mother returned to Erzurum with Gourgen and Hakob, intending to take back the money and documents hidden in their barn back. While digging, two turks arrived, captured Hakob, beheaded him, and took the iron chest. The mother and Gourgen witnessed everything from their hiding place. A terrified Gourgen tried to scream, but his mother held his mouth shut. Gourgen never forgot this tragedy throughout his life. For political reasons, he became a Persian citizen and later moved to Switzerland with his family, where he continued his education, which he later pursued in Tbilisi and Moscow.

Like many Armenians of his time, he experienced the devastating effects of the massacres committed by the turks against Armenians. He lost 26 family members to the Armenian Genocide of 1915, as well as his homeland—Western Armenia.

Although Gourgen was far from his homeland, the injustice of the genocide never left him. He had exhausted all peaceful means to inform the world about the genocide and hold turkey accountable for the atrocities they committed.

He chose cinema as the means to achieve his goal: “Our plan was very simple. With our personal funds, we secretly planned to make a film showing the world the sufferings of our people and the barbaric turkish massacres, not forgetting the Armenian genocide and the conspiracy of so-called civilized nations against our rights."

Yanikian's factual book "Paradise" (originally in English), which his wife Shushanik had titled, became the basis for a screenplay. Several foreigners joined the film project, and they shot 20 hours of material depicting turkish atrocities with striking authenticity.

"The film was to be shown simultaneously in the capitals of three different countries, free of charge. Flyers explaining the purpose and our demands were to be distributed with the tickets… The goal was to return the land stolen from the Armenian people to its rightful owners and provide compensation for our two million victims. Many individuals were to join the cause once the film was ready."

Despite the strong dedication to completing "Paradise," the endeavor was unsuccessful because U.S.-Turkey alliances and strategic interests were prioritized, and the US government hindered the production of the film.

Yanikyan, by then old but not despairing, had spent decades using every peaceful means to punish the perpetrators of the Armenian Genocide and avenge his compatriots, but he ultimately felt compelled to choose an alternative.

"In all my writings, I always defended the belief that violence should disappear from our lives. But when all of this happened and humanity and the world remained silent about the Armenian Question, I made the decision to take action in order to bring the Armenian cause to the attention of humanity and world governments."

On January 27, 1973, at the age of 78, Gourgen Yanikyan, without hesitation, fired 13 bullets at the turkish consul and vice-consul in Santa Barbara in his room at the "Baltimore" hotel. Following a highly publicized trial, Yanikyan was sentenced to life imprisonment, and in 1984, with a clear conscience, he passed away into eternity.

But his sacrifice was not in vain: the Armenian Question was finally brought back from the dusty archives of history. By sacrificing his freedom, Yanikyan ignited a movement. His act became the catalyst for a wave of Armenian activism, inspiring the creation of ASALA, who would go on to fight for the recognition of the genocide.

Everyone condemns violence but, alas, it is the only language the world understands.

#in my eyes he's a true hero #break the chain of ignorance #armenian history #armenian genocide #turkish crimes #azeri crimes #gurgen yanikyan #world history #world politics #armenia #armenian culture #genocide #cinema #asala

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thatbadadvice · 5 months ago

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I (15f) am slightly worried that I led on some guys I did not mean to lead on.

There are two guys that I've hung out with over longer spans of time or regularly.

1. Hung out with him for several hours non-stop cause he was fun to hang out with, and we took a walk in the forest aswell, he got (slightly) touchy but not that much.

2. Works in a shop in my small city and I go there almost weekly just to hang out but always buy something, he sometimes offers me drinks for free (twice by now) or reduces the price.

They both got my insta too

However, the problem is that a) I'm not looking for a relationship and, more importantly, b) they are both in their 20s.

I took care to mention that I am only 15 to both of them but idk if that changed anything. Any advice? I also don't want to confront them directly cause I might have just interpreted it like this.

Hello, anonymous!

Thank you for writing in. I am delighted to inform you that you have excellent judgment for wondering what the hell is going on here, and for questioning these guys' behavior toward you.

Grown-ass men — and that is what dudes in their 20s are — bear the burden of not being weird to, for, or about young women of your age. It is the grown-ass men of the world who are obligated not to make you, or young women like you, feel weird about literally anything. In fact, grown-ass men should go out of their way, on purpose and with gusto, NEVER to get even within ten million football fields' worth of "(slightly) touchy" with a gal of your age. So that's my read on Mr. Walk In The Woods. I have less to say definitively about Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks, but I trust your judgment: if you feel like Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks is sending some ~ signals ~, you're right about it.

It sounds like both of these Grown-Ass Men are trying to make pretty creepo moves, so let me be clear: nothing you could ever do could even possibly in the most remote sense amount to "leading them on," because you are not responsible for the behavior of Grown-Ass Men.

I think you know this, or you wouldn't be asking the Bad Advisor this question. You know they're being weird. You know you haven't done anything beyond exist in these dudes' general sphere, which you are entitled to do! You are allowed to exist in the world without having to swat off the advances of older guys! It really sucks that girls and women can just be living our regular-ass lives and have dudes be at us like this. But you're not responsible for their decisions — whether it's a decision to offer you free/cheap drinks (with strings attached, implied) or to get (slightly) handsy during a walk in the woods.

The fact that you told both of these Grown-Ass Men explicitly that you are 15 years old should have sent both of them spinning back into the sun with shame and embarrassment, not that they probably needed it spelled out, but GOOD ON YOU for making it so clear. That is actually terribly brave of you, and they should have fallen all over themselves to not fall all over you subsequently. They should be mortified about their behavior.

You did not misinterpret their actions; and if you did, who cares? Some dudes who weren't hitting on a 15-year-old will continue to not hit on a 15-year-old? Girl, your self-preservation instinct is INTACT and WORKING. It's on them not to be creepos. Any Grown-Ass Man who is on the level and not a weirdo would 1000000000000% never need to be told "Hey dude, I'm 15" in the first place. You have good judgment. You are reading these men correctly.

So what do you do about your good judgment? Well, first — no more walks in the woods. Suddenly you have an urgent appointment that precludes all walks in woods! The benefit-of-the-doubt ship has sailed. Dude got handsy and you dislike it. Dunzo. You are unavailable for future walks in woods (or anywhere). You've got a test to study for, a practice to go to, some buddies to hang out with elsewhere. So sorry, no-can. Dude can find a 20-to-90-something-year-old woman to paw up under the canopy if that's his jam. There are scores of women his age and older who'd be glad (i guess?) to get felt up while some dude shoves them ~ romantically ~ against the bark of a moldy Hackberry.

As for Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks — look, I appreciate the appeal of a discount beverage — but I think you gotta be prepared to aggressively (politely) pay for your drinks. Dude says "This one is on the house" and you DGAF, because you've got $5 cash and you're laying it on the counter with a smile and saying "I really appreciate it, but I'd like to pay for my drink — you get it!"

It's the "you get it!" that's really the key here. It's polite, but clear. It demands that these Grown-Ass Dudes do the work of not getting it and saying so if they're gonna be that dippy about it. You can use it on Mr. Handsy In The Woods, too. You can't do X, Y, Z because Reasons -- "Gotta get back to piano practice, it would be weird if I stayed here, since we're just friends! You get it!"

You shouldn't have to do the work of offering these dippos the "you get it" out, but it's a safe and reliable way of making it clear that they better the fuck get it. Like, they better the fuck understand that you are 15 and they are being weird about this whole deal.

Practice:

"Oh, I'd like to chill but doing another big long hang alone together would make it seem like we're going out or something, and that would be weird -- you get it."

"I appreciate the discount, but if I keep taking these drinks, it'll seem like you LIKE me or something. That's weird, right? You get it!"

If either of these Grown-Ass Men gets sketchy about these very polite brush-offs, that shit is on them and will only confirm what you know: you have great judgment. These dudes are weird. If they're going to be weird, you can be so polite that they have to explain why, specifically, they are being weird and don't understand what you are politely saying, which is that their interest in you is weird.

You have not led these Grown-Ass Men on by existing in their universe. You have not led them on by being polite to them and tolerating their inappropriate advances to preserve your own safety. The concept of "leading on" is bullshit, fucked up, heteronormative dipshittery that puts the burden on women, mostly, to account for the crappy behavior of men who can, do, and should know better. I assure you these men know better, and they think you don't. That's why older guys pursue younger and teen women in the first place — they think they get to be the big men in charge, because they're afraid they can't manipulate women their own age.

Here's what, though: they can't manipulate you, either. You are clever, self-possessed and a great self-advocate. They're being weird. You're being smart. Make sure they know it.

#advice #good advice interlude #older guys #creeps #creepos #this fucking guy

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