#tyler dog days imagine

[walmarttrashbag]

Finnie & Characters Headcanons!

Finn Wolfhard & his characters x Y/n

Requested by: Anonymous!

I'm so happy it's not Yandere! It feels so much better for no Yandere to write with!!!

~First Date Headcanons~

Finn:

Finn, being the sweet guy he is, is a little nervous at first. He thinks you're so pretty. He pays for you even if you refuse, and you both walk in the park, before dancing around in the night. Really wholesome date for both of you. He drove you home and you shared a lovely kiss.

Richie:

Richie's so charming and charismatic, you couldn't help but fall head over heels for him. Going to the arcade and grabbing pizza. Believe it or not - He let you win Street Fighter! Richie biked you home that night and you kissed his cheek before you went in. He held his cheek, amazed, and biked home thinking about how lucky he was.

Mike:

You didn't know how he could afford a dinner date with his trusty 3.50, but you assumed he'd been working neighborhood jobs to earn the big bucks just for you. Rambles on about how much he misses El... It hurts your feelings so you stand up.

"Where are you going?" Mike would quickly say.

You looked away "I think it would be better to go."

Mike got up "Wait-" He ran over to you and kissed you. You felt weird weird looks from people but Mike grabbed your hand and dragged you into the men's bathroom, pushed you in a stall, and make out noises were echoing all over the bathroom.

Boris:

Let's be honest, Boris stole all the food and stuff and made sure his deadbeat dad wasn't here for anything. You were amazed by how much stuff he got away with stealing. Good food pretty candles, and even lots of flowers. Theo helped set up the place before going to bed. He woke up at 11 pm to hear Boris cursing in Russian and you moaning so loud your vocal cords could break.

Miles:

You were scared as fuck but he was actually incredibly loving. Opened up to you about his life, almost starting crying. The food was amazing, you thanked Mrs. Grose. You went upstairs to Miles' bedroom and almost fucked but Flora was too innocent for her little ears to hear such horrid noises.

Trevor:

You had lunch together in the ectomobile. Trevor sat close to you and put his arm around you, making sure no ghosts would get you, or at least that's what he claimed. You thought he was precious. You shared some kisses and stole bites from his food which he let slide this time. Almost getting killed by a ghost but Trevor resolved that quickly and reassured you everything's okay. You weren't let down in the slightest by this man.

Tyler:

Pizza was on him. He was so nervous, and you thought that was adorable. You gave him so many kisses. Tyler would've died if you weren't there to hold him close, muttering "Thank you" and "I love you". He was so head over heels for you.

Bobert:

Bobert was terrifying, but so mysterious as well. Not really any food to eat, but you laid down together and cuddled in the forest, so it was good enough for you. He was actually a great kisser, and he's earned himself a second date!

Hey! I'm so happy this isn't Yandere!!!! Thank you for requesting this!

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter two)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.7k

Playlist Song: the great war by taylor swift

prologue / one / two / three

I try with all I have to not feel any sort of pain over the look of hurt on the woman - Kate’s - face. That look of betrayal, like someone had killed her dog. Like a lover had kept a deep dark secret. I try to shake it off and hold on to the anger that my sad excuse of a husband had decided to show his face at my office. “So, I’ll ask again,” I turn back to the man in question. 

His smile has fallen and he looks at Kate almost apologetically before he drags his gaze slowly back to me. I ignore the sweet swirl of emeralds and sapphires in his eyes, I let the embers in my chest simmer. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Tyler opens his mouth but all that comes out is an awkward gurgle of uhs. He clears his throat and glances down. I follow his gaze to see the thick clay mud speckling his good boots. The boots that I bought him on our first anniversary to wear to the rodeo. “I, uh…” 

I look up into his face with a hard gaze. I watch him close his eyes, collect himself. “I don’t have all day Tyler,” I say. My hands start to shake a little, the overwhelming buzz from the embers starting to billow into a subtle flame. The heat of anxiety starts to warm me from the inside out. I cross my arms tight over my mesh vest to stop the tremble. 

“The truck’s in rough shape,” he says, eyes opening to stare down at me. 

The loud cackle isn’t my intended reaction. It rips through my throat before I know to keep it in. I look over at Kate, gagging the slight discomfort in her features turning a little disturbed as she watches the two of us. I raise a brow at her and laugh again, turning back to the man. “Oh, the truck is in rough shape.” I nod once, then twice. I turn around to my team, watching with apprehension in the bay. “The truck’s in rough shape,” I call out, waving as if to say ‘false alarm guys’.

I can see Tyler wince again in my peripheral vision and when I turn back to him, the light nature of my tone is wiped from my face. “Go fuck yourself.” 

I only make it to the gate when I hear the music peeling down the dirt road. It’s loud, guitar riffs coming from the speaker on what I can only imagine is their RV. I watch as the other wranglers park and come staggering out of their doors. “Sorry we’re late, I had to stop t’ get some gas and,” Boone’s loud voice travels across the space as he comes up to Tyler’s side. He must miss the hard lines of Tyler’s face because he catches my eye and comes running. 

“There she is,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around in a tight embrace before I can say anything. “I missed you, Ms. Fix It.” Boone’s voice is soft as his scruffy chin digs into my collarbone. 

The southern drawl of his nickname for me is a soothing cup of water, nearly extinguishing the burning in my chest. Boone was like a golden retriever. Boone had done his due diligence to send me postcards through the time since I’d last seen everyone. They’d always been blank, just pictures of different southern county spectaculars across the states but catching a livestream of the wranglers’ channel discretely playing on Carter’s desktop when he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom one day, I’d realized it had been the sweet man checking in. I missed his enthusiasm deeply, frustrated that Tyler not only took my heart with him when he disappeared one night but also that he took his whole crew of friendly faces with him. 

“Hey there Boone,” I breathe into his neck, my arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Couldn’t have sent a warning postcard?” 

The tall man pulls back, “You got my postcards? Oh gosh, that makes me so glad,” he says, placing a hand over his chest. My words register in his mind and his smile stretches wide with guilt. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that. It took all my convincin’ to get the guy to even drive here. Did he mention the truck?” 

“He sure did,” I nod, acutely aware of everyone watching Boone and I. Boone seems in his own world, blissfully oblivious to the two crews watching us. I glance back at the truck where Tyler, hands on his hips, speaks in hushed tones to Kate, another man I don’t recognize and Lily. She catches my eye and waves. 

“Can ya help? Ya know there’s no one else who can fix her up the right way,” Boone says, fixing his dirty cap on his head.  

“Boone, ya’ll can’t just show up here after all this time and just ask me to fix up the truck,” I say. There’s pressure starting to build behind my eyes and I have to shake my head to rid the feeling. I step backwards out of his grasp. 

“I know it’s a real shit thing to do. We wouldn’t have come if we weren’t desperate,” Boone says. He takes a peak over at Tyler, looking back at me with puppy dog eyes. “He would not have come if we weren’t desperate.” 

The comment tugs at my heart strings and I can’t help but look out at the fields around us. The tall grass sways lazy in the breeze, the sun starting to rise higher in the sky. My stomach growls a little. I sigh, starting to shake my head again. 

“Please El,” he asks again, my real name not something I’m used to hearing from Boone.

“Goddamnit Boone,” I say. I wipe a hand over my forehead and lick my lower lip. “What’s wrong with the damn truck?” 

Boone’s face brightens immediately, a wide grin back on his face. He hoots in glee, rushing the few feet across the path to hug me tightly. “Thank you, thank you,” he kisses my cheek a few times, his scratchy mustache rubbing against my skin. I try to push him off with a small laugh, noticing Tyler turning to look at the commotion. 

“Boone, Boone,” I say, laughing a little more at his excitement. “Show me what’s wrong before I change my mind, you bastard.”

He backs away, arms raised in surrender as he leads me back over to the truck. “Alright so, Ms. Fix It has offered to take a look at the sucker to get Betty back into tip top condition,” Boone announces to the group. Back in front of them, the lighthearted feeling of the moment with Boone fades though I catch Lily winking at me as I round the truck to look it over.

I can see the mangled iron of the drill blades under flakes of dried mud and grass. “What did you do to my base drills?” My tone is sharp as I turn to look at Tyler. 

“That was actually me,” a small voice quips from my right. I turn, identifying it as Kate. Hand raised, sunglasses tucked on top of her shiny caramel hair and guilty expression. My brows pinch together. “I took the truck through an EF5, got dragged through the ground. We’ve been going into more storms and Tyler hit a rock,” she continues. 

I only look at her, nodding slowly. “They weren’t built to survive EF5s but I guess that’s one way to test them…is that it?” 

“The rocket rig button isn’t workin’,” Boone adds. “We really need somethin’ with some more power.”

“Boone,” Tyler says, shaking his head at the man. He turns to me. “I can fix that, if you can just help with the drills.” 

I scoff, walking toward the driver’s side to pull the door open and examine the console but Tyler beats me to the door, sidestepping in my path to prevent me from tugging the door open. “I said, I can fix it.” 

“You came all the way here for a mechanic, didn’t you? Let me inspect the work,” I say, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze at him. 

“She’s been running mostly fine, just needs the drills,” he says again, squaring his chest. He looks calm for the first time since stepping out of the truck.  

I poke a stern finger into the soft material of his flannel as I say “Do you want my help or not?” 

He doesn’t flinch, only staring down at my hand hovering near his chest again. He must notice the lack of wedding band and the dainty engagement ring adorning my ring finger because when he looks back up at me, there’s a far away look in his eye.

“Move so I can see what other damage you’ve caused,” I say. 

It’s a low blow. I know it. He knows it. But too much time has passed for me to be kind in my compromising. The hard, stubborn look in Tyler’s eyes fades and softens at my retort. He looks away with a shake of his head, stepping aside while tugging the door open at the same time. My arm brushes against his shoulder as I slide past him. I lift myself into the driver’s seat and glance down at the panel of buttons I’d cleverly designed years ago when he started going out more seriously into the field. 

Crumbs are scattered all in between all the buttons, sticky residue from duct tape collecting dust. “God, would it kill you to take care of this and clean it every now and then?” I ask, cautiously brushing some of it away. 

Tyler ignores me, watching as I look over everything. I glance forward to see if my team is still watching and inhale sharply. The visor is flipped down to block out the sunshine. Gone is the old, tattered photo of Tyler and I on our first date. In its place sits a fresh, glossy photo of who I can only assume to be Kate staring at a storm. It catches me by surprise and the burning embers in my chest return. I make a mental note to dig out those papers from my junk drawer in the kitchen.

I look over at Tyler and we stare at each other for a moment. He’s watching me apprehensively, searching my face for a reaction, maybe an outburst. “Are there flares or rockets in the fittings?” I mumble, turning back to the buttons without waiting for his response. 

I barely hear him call to everyone to back up and instead try to shake off my unease. I hit the bright red button to shoot off the rockets and wait for anything to happen. I push it a few times, clearing out some of the crumbs that I can feel grinding up on the sides but still get nothing. There’s a piece of tap beneath the hitch button, Kate’s Barrels scribbled in Sharpie. I purse my lips and grab the joystick, pushing the button to deploy the drills. They shutter a little, digging into the ground and rattling to a halt with one digging further down than the other. I push the button to retract them and sigh, starting to climb out of the truck. 

“Well?” Tyler’s voice is thick as he steps closer. 

“You’re fucked,” I say, not bothering to look at him and instead motioning for Charlie to open the gate. 

“Can you fix it?” the curly haired man next to Kate asks. 

I look in his direction, then Boone is smiling like an idiot. “Course I can. Boone, can you get the truck inside for me?” 

Boone moves to jump into the truck at my request but Tyler grabs him, tugging him out of the seat to climb in instead. He starts the engine and Boone races to catch up to me instead. He’s joined by the others, walking behind me to the warehouse. 

“TempestEdge,” the curly haired one reads our sign and we get to the bay door. 

“Carter, can you grab my tablet please,” I ask and he nods, running back to my desk. 

“Wait, you guys are those government contractors building and updating infrastructures to withstand storms,” he says, sounding in awe. “You guys are like, state of the art.” 

“We try,” Charlie crosses her arms, tight smile on her lips as she and Birdie watch Tyler drive into the warehouse. Charlie nods in my direction. “El’s the mastermind of the operation, I just crunch numbers.” 

“The team is the mastermind of the operation,” I say, rolling my eyes. I put my hand out to shake his and Kate’s reluctantly. “I don’t normally come off this harsh. I go by my maiden name, Eleanor Harding.” 

“Javi Rivera,” he says slowly, trailing off. 

“Kate Carter,” she introduces herself, shaking my hand. “Sorry for the awkward introduction.” 

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod, turning to walk further into the warehouse. Carter meets me halfway with the tablet, while the others head back to their desks. “Thank you,” I say, starting to swipe through our inventory for possible scraps and parts I can use to fix the truck. Carter stops me though, placing my phone on top of the screen. 

“Before you do that,” he says, his voice quiet with the surrounding guests. “I think you should call your mom.” “Carter, my mom can wait for a call back. She probably wants to hear about how the test went. You know how she gets on days like today,” I say, pocketing my phone and going back to the tablet. 

“Wait,” Javi exclaims. I turn around in surprise, noticing he’s looking at some of the photos on the siding of the warehouse. “That’s where I know that name from. Your parents created Dorothy, they’re legends.” He turns back to me, eyes wide. My phone starts to vibrate again in my pocket. 

I dig my phone back out from my pocket to see the 14th missed call from my mom. “They’re something alright,” I say. A text pops up then. I read it quickly, passing the tablet back into Carter’s chest. 

“I was trying to tell you,” Carter says, holding my bag and keys out  to me. “I’ll catch a ride home with Charlie.” 

I glance up at him, the pressure behind my eyes building again. Can anything go right today? “Thank you.” I turn to head out to the truck without another word. Heavy footsteps stomp behind me, chasing me out the door. It’s not even 10 AM yet as I unlock the truck. 

“El, Eleanor, where the hell are you going?” Tyler bellows as he catches up to me. 

“It’s gunna take a few days to get parts, alright? I’ll call Boone when the truck is ready,” I say, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and starting the engine. It takes a few turns before the engine roars to life. Tyler’s hand catches the door, preventing me from taking off. 

“Hey, talk to me,” he murmurs, leaning into the cab. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t pretend to care all of a sudden, Tyler. You’ve got what you came for, I’ll fix your damn truck so that you can go head first into the next monster of a storm with your girlfriend, alright? I need to go,” I say, my eyes glossy when I look away from his hand to his face. 

He steps closer, pushing with force through my tight grasp on the door. He’s silent as he reaches up to grab the seatbelt, stretching over my hips and torso. I squeeze my eyes shut, distraught as my hands only find comfort on the steering wheel. The click of the buckle is so loud in my ear and I have to remind myself to take slow breaths until Tyler is no longer invading my space.

“Leave the reckless driving to me,” is all he says before closing the door and stepping back. I do my best not to look in the rearview mirror and I peel off down the road to St. Mary’s Medical.

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[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 24

Tyler Durden and Jack “The Narrator” + masks and/or helmets

I’m sorry to anyone who was hoping for Jason Vorhees, but I’ve been watching my comfort movie (fight club) to destress from my assignments, so I got in the mood to write for these two.

Tyler is his own person in this, cuz I want both to go down on me at the same time, thats the only reason.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Welding had never been your plan for a job, especially not where you found yourself now. Low ranked and forced to do all the shit work your jackass boss couldn’t be assed to do, leaving you alone in the construction yard in the middle of the night, the welding tool hot and dangerous in your gloved hands as it cast an almost evil glow upon your welding helmet, the light reflecting off the glass that covered your eyes.

Imagine your surprise some group of jackasses show up at your construction site. They seemed surprised to see you as you turned around and slid up the front of your helmet to look at them, but the bags under your eyes and the dead look in them seemed to make them see you as one of their own. One of them was even polite enough to ask if they could use the yard for some kind of weird orgy club they had going on, or at least you thought it was an orgy club.

You shrugged and told them if they gave you fifty bucks a night, they could kill a guy there and you wouldn’t give a shit. Hey, there were at least ten guys, they could cough up five dollars each if they wanted to start wailing on each other as you worked.

This continued, multiple nights a week, because of course your shithead boss had you working extremely late hours every day for shit pay, and because of your lack of education and shitty upbringing you couldn’t just drop the job. The fifty bucks a night did help quite a lot, and at some point you didn’t even need to do all that extra work, but you kinda enjoyed watching all these pathetic meatheads and self-proclaiming alpha-males trying to show off just how tough they were by beating on each other.

You never took part in it, but “the guy in the welder helmet runs the place” became some kind of rumour, just because they paid you to let them use the place. Apparently, you not doing any of the fighting made them think you were some kind of bigshot, a member of “project mayhem”, whatever that was.

It might also have been the muscle you had packed on from years of physical labour and your less then friendly attitude that made them think you were more then you were. But hey, you kept welding, but kept half an eye on the group of blood thirsty men, a group that only seemed to grow every night. So much for an “exclusive” group.

One day some guy with ugly spiked hair and a douchey red leather jacket swaggered his way over to you as you half-assed a weld between a couple of pipes. He had a cigarette hanging between his lips, like a real asshole, as he leaned against the pipe you were trying to weld, messing up your already shitty work. You could do a lot better, but you were in no way paid enough to care.

You could tell he was trying to antagonise you, as he would start showing up every night this so-called fight club happened, always trying to push your buttons, and even once putting out his cigarette against the one way glass protecting your eyes.

You were great at ignoring fools like him, so none of his actions got the reaction he seemed so starved for. The one that really caught your attention was this scrawnier guy, who looked like he hadn’t slept in months. It was like watching a corpse walking around, but something unleashed inside him when he fought. It was like a rabid dog with a piece of meat, it made your insides boil.

It was him that finally got you to join the fight, though you spat at their rules, keeping your welding helmet on, because why not, it looked sexy. You could definingly tell your years of labour had served you well from the way some of the guys around the place were looking at you, like they wanted to fight you or fuck you, maybe both.

The sleep deprived corpse, who you later learned was named Jack, tried his damn best to get the upper hand on you. But your uncle used to breed pitbulls and other types of large fighting dogs, so scruffing him and putting him in the ground was too damn easy. The erection on his pants wasn’t hard to see either, but you’d seen enough of this circle-jerk of a club to know it was normal, adrenaline, they always said.

You honestly had no idea how you found yourself in the situation you would find yourself in weeks later. You had finally started taking part in a couple of fights, but the helmet always stayed on no matter how much anyone complained, and you only really cared to fight Jack.

Even when the fucker in the red leather jacket whined and draped himself across you. You learned he was Tyler Durden, apparently him and Jack created this Fight Club junk. Tyler annoyed you though, always talking about society and changing it, you had clocked him once when he just wouldn’t shut up.

One day you found yourself packing down your gear, fight club had ended early today for some reason, you didn’t pay attention to that stuff, you were just there for a show. Tyler had been the first to pull up on you, Jack following not far behind, and when you had grunted what they wanted, Tyler had pounced like an overexcited puppy.

He had started licking the helmet you wore, his spit streaking across the glass of your mask, his breath leaving a foggy texture against it as you gripped onto his jaw, your work rough hands gripping hard enough to definitely leave a bruise.

Tyler was groaning like hed been shot, moaning something about how hot that stupid helmet was, and how sexy you were because you never took it off. You almost threw him across the yard when you felt hands undoing your belt. Snapping your head down you saw Jack on his knees in front of you, he had a busted lip and a black eye, but it somehow added to his charm.

His lips were soft, and his tongue was slightly hesitant as he started sucking you off, Tyler groaning and panting into the metal of your helmet, that was close to where your mouth would have been. You could feel him slobbering all over you, his tongue probably picking up all the grime the helmet had collected over the many weeks you’d gone without cleaning it.

Tylers slobbering was starting to get annoying, so with a grunt you gripped kicked his knees out from under him, making him crash to his knees with a painful crack against the pavement. His eyes seemed to lock on where Jack had been licking and almost worshipping your cock with his mouth, spit and drool dripping off of you and his mouth as he looked up at you with large blown pupils.

Tyler, the attention starved fool he was quickly butted in, his higher skilled tongue started to lap at the base of your length, even ducking in between your thighs to mouth as your sack. You couldn’t help but snort as you ran your gloved fingers through Jacks short hair in an almost loving manner, whilst also gripping and twisting in Tylers gelled hair with the other hand.

Something about seeing their reflection in the reflective glass of your welding helmet only seemed to excitement further, especially Tyler as he drooled, barely even seeming to make an inkling of an effort to keep spit in his mouth. Jack seemed at least a little shy about it, avoiding looking at himself but somehow always ending back at his reflection.

You didn’t tell them you were close, but they seemed to notice from how your hips twitching or your grunting grew rougher. Tyler almost shoved Jack aside to start tonguing at your tip right beside Jack, their tongues rubbing up against each other around your tip in some kind of French kiss.

Tyler had been moaning and groaning loudly the entire time, seemingly getting off at the volume of his noises, where Jack had been more subdued but still present. There was almost a battle of their tongues as you came, spurting white across wet wiggling muscles that tried to catch as much of it as possible.

Surprisingly, or maybe not to surprising, Tyler roughly grabbed Jack and started making out with him like he was trying to swallow him whole when you finished, swapping the mixture of spit and cum between them like a pair of starved animals. You scoffed a small laugh at the sight of them almost humping each other as they kept rubbing their tongues together obscenely, and here you thought Fight Club was a good show.

Tucking yourself back into your pants, you patted them both on the head to get their attention. When they finally pulled away from their sloppy sorry excuse of a kiss to look up at you, you pushed up the welders’ helmet and looked at them, quirking a questioning brow.

That seemed to be enough to get them going, the two almost skittering after you as you started trekking back to your bucket of a car to head home, your roommate would have to put up with the noises you knew you were gonna rip out of those two, so what if you had to keep the helmet on, they were right, it was kinda hot.

[stardancerluv]

A Space Journey

Part Five

Summary: Anger ignites

Notes/Warning: alots of angst.

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback are always welcome and appreciated.

You crossed your arms in front of you. “So what is going on Tyler?“

Placing his hands on your upper arms, his thumbs gently rubbing, was usually comforting. It would calm you. But right as he leaned in close, that thing that dog tag hung from his throat as attempting to rest his forehead against yours. You managed to wiggle free.

“Are you going to tell me?“

He stood straight, very straight. It made him incredibly tall. You felt so small. You stepped back.

“Why are you so hostile?” He slammed his hand on the metal wall behind you.

You flinched.

“Because, because…” You stumbled over the words that struggled to come out.

He smelled differently, especially right now and in these last few days, he had seemed so far away. It hurt.

“What?” His eyes appeared darker.

“You have that bloody thing around your neck and…and you are not my Tyler. There is something different.”

“Oh? And how am I different?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t say definitively but he was.

“I don’t know.” You whispered.

“Well, that’s great.” He shouted. “Yet you don’t even know why.”

You chewed on your bottom lip.

“Well, this…this is in case something fucking happens to me. So you’ll know its me.”

He tore it off and threw it at you.

“Here, take it. I don’t need to wear it if it upsets you so much.”

“What is wrong with you?” Tears filled your eyes.

An alert, chirped to life filling the silence.

“Fuck.”

You heard him mutter, you looked at him. As he looked at his watch.”

“Not fucking now.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes slid to you. You didn’t move.

He tapped his communicator.

“Yes, Reid.” There was a strain in his voice.

“Is closer. Leaving now. Bring your protection.”

What you had heard, made the unease in your stomach churn. Now you felt ill.

“Understood.” He tapped the screen off. A loud sigh came from him.

“Tyler?” The argument, the upset you had felt was now replaced by whatever this was.

“Look. I said I got big things. This is it, or it will be. I gotta go.”

You nodded. His features were sharp, strained. He never looked this way with a simple salvage.

He brushed past you and went to his room.

You bent down and picked up the dog-tag,

His name, birthday etched in the glowing glass. You immediately followed him.

You only saw him tuck something way by the time you reached his door.

“Tyler, I’m sorry…” You began, you held up the dog-tag.

His words sliced through it.

“Stop. Doesn’t matter.” He came over cupped your chin, tilting your face up. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when. But I will. I’ll explain then. I should have earlier. Stay here. Not in the bunks.”

He felt especially warm as you felt his lips press against yours before he enveloped you in a tender squeeze. Your eyes barely met his brown ones before he spoke once more.

“Coming back to you, it will make the vast emptiness of space tolerable.”

******

You had brought down from the cabinet the amber liquid that had wonderfully warmed the two of you a mere few days before, now it barely softened the ache of his sudden departure.

His dog-tag now sat nestled around your throat. You couldn’t even imagine, what he was doing or why the sudden departure with no warning.

*******

You woke, face deep into one of his pillows when you heard the arrival of the others. So they didn’t suddenly leave either. He was alone.

Tears that had made your eyes raw came back with that realization. He was all alone up there. You reburied your face.

Inhaling, his crisp scent wishing you were miles away when you heard Kay call for him.

You would have to tell her, you would have to tell them all.

*******

They had finally managed to dock at the cargo ship. On the outside, it looked like it had gone through a few space battles, possibly with the pirates they had expected in taking it over.

As they entered, the gravity was on, but the cycle was almost over.

“And the gravity will remain on.” Xano informed him looking up from the only working screen, they came across. “The air is at a breathable level.”

“Good.” Nodding, Tyler finally pulled off his helmet. He coughed, after breathing the stale air. His gloved fingers rake through his hair. Glancing around not knowing what to expect; he remained on edge.

Walking over to where Xano perched, he gave the cracked screen once over. Xano’s fingers were a blur as they continued to slide and tap over the keys.

“Only one life signature appears to be on board with us.”

Tyler tapped at the screen. “What’s it doing in the sterile room?”

Xano shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

“Right.” He pressed his lips together and nodded. Tyler then looked away from the screen, swallowing as he did. The argument was still fresh in his heart. On the corner of the screen was a faded snapshot of a couple during happier times, it brought fresh pain from the argument you two had prior to leaving.

“You’ll see her again.” Xano patted him on the shoulder, after sliding off a stool.

“I plan on it.”

*******

Their flashlights automatically snapped on. The light beams were sharp in the pitch black room. The doors had reluctantly groaned as they slid open.

Whatever was under their boots crunched, he couldn’t tell it if was tile or glass. After more of a delay, the lights finally flickered on.

Tyler’s eyes grew at what he saw.

@luvscarlyle new chapter but oo so much 😳🫣

[joanofarcbutsilly]

shake the frost

simon “ghost” riley x reader

TW: angst to comfort!!!!!! simon and reader’s relationship is undoubtedly toxic (don’t worry it gets better), simon is not emotionally available in the slightest, mentions of sex in a friends with benefits type relationship but nothing is ever described, small disagreement, there’s kind of a breakup???? but it ends happy

not requested but this is for @corvusmorte who had commented on my last post about this song tehehe

simon has this undeniable coldness to him

he just seems to reek of apathy for his fellow man

upon first glance, you might think simon is just another product of military training. in general, for the type of work simon does, anyone would have to be able to distance themselves from people and the emotions they come with. i mean soap is normally a genuinely kind and thoughtful individual, but turns into a whole different being while on the field

simon is just different though. it doesn’t seem like he has any ability to turn it off, it’s just a part of him

without really knowing him, it’s easy to imagine peeling back this layer of his personality and finding a deep dark void where his soul should be

he is absolutely aware of this general aura and has never had the urge to make a change

he doesn’t get a lot of good first impressions because of this, and very rarely does anyone ever attempt to chip away at his shell

i cant stress enough it is HARD WORK to get to know this man

the fastest way to foster a connection with him is through a friends with benefits type situation (although he will not refer to you as a friend either, you are just a coworker with whom he has sex)

when you DO come to understand him a bit better from piecing little morsels of information together, you come to understand that his coldness is just a means to defend himself

years of pain and mistreatment quite literally from the day of his birth has turned him into a cornered dog, gnashing and thrashing at any attempts to get closer, wether you be friend or foe

knowing his reasons for this is one thing, but putting up with it is another. having empathy for his predicament does NOT mean that you should have to put up with any of his unkindness

i just imagine being in a relationship (if you can even call it that) with simon, built purely on physical interactions. you are someone to warm his bed, plain and simple, and he is not afraid to tell you this.

he has his moments, where he tries, in his own way, to maintain the connection you two have fostered

he’ll pick up little trinkets for you on his travels, little reminders that he DOES in fact think about you when you’re out of his room.

he’s also a pillar of stability for you. no matter the burden you carry. simon is one of those people who you just feel more relaxed by extension because he DOES NOT FREAK OUT

you can also take comfort in the fact that simon will ALWAYS be there to protect you. he will ALWAYS have your back, and even if he doesn’t vocalize it, you know that he would kill or die for you without an ounce of hesitation

he cares, not outwardly.

and you know, you KNOW he cares even if he doesn’t say it, you KNOW. but it can be so incredibly draining to be carrying the entire emotional burden of your relationship (which he vehemently denies the existence of)

so things can be good! you and simon have great moments! but some not so great ones as well

as mentioned, he refuses to acknowledge your importance in his life. and even though you can pick up on the clues of his actual thoughts and feelings on you and your whole arrangement, it can be so exhausting to be told and shown the opposite

some nights after your escapades he will let you stay, and sometime in the middle of the night you’ll wake up to a heavy arm across your abdomen and a heavy sigh. you breathe just a little bit quieter and resist the urge to rearrange yourself so as to not wake him up

the next day, he makes no mention of his midnight affection, so neither do you. you think you have turned a corner in the relationship.

but the next time you two- ahem- get together… following the activity he scoops up your things from the floor and drops them next to you on the bed with his eyes straight ahead. while you just kinda sit there in a disappointed stupor he silently walks to his bathroom, and you can feel the unsaid demand to leave his room before he gets back.

this is a pretty typical pattern, there’s the initial hope following an abnormally affectionate behavior or moment, which is immediately crushed when simon all but launches himself away to maintain a comfortable emotional distance from you.

you cannot vocalize your discomfort with this dynamic either. bringing this up would immediately start up an argument, where simon says that you are overreacting, and you knew what this was and what you are to him. this can end up happening a lot, he avoids healthy emotional communication like the PLAGUE.

after some time together you come to learn what sets him off in a fighting mood.

a BIG one to avoid is “prying” into his past. you cannot and should not be the one to ask any personal questions. all you’re going to get is a pissed off simon and a response along the lines of how “if he wanted to he’d tell you”

anything and everything you know about simon’s history is the result of a slip of the tongue, or the occasional comment by him or someone else on the 141

past this, it’s up to you to use your detective skills to piece together a timeline of simon’s life

following every fight or disagreement with simon there is a gap wherein you might as well be strangers.

the silence almost seems like a punishment, which makes fights absolutely unbearable. you’ve always got the thought in the back of your head that you two might never come back from this, and to keep any kind of connection with simon you’ve got to walk around eggshells for the foreseeable future.

the silence is hard, but he also just has his outbursts on occasion where he just absolutely snaps on you

these breaks happen in his own moments of emotional instability, like after a nightmare

when you do end up staying the night with him, and you hear the even cadence of his breathing suddenly interrupted before he tenses behind you, it’s critical to just lay there and pretend it’s not happening. should you wake him up, you have to pretend he was just snoring or moving around too much, and under no circumstances should you let him know you’re aware of his bad dream.

one such occasion ended up being the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. you finally believed the dynamic between you and simon was comfortable enough that you did wake him up and alerted him to the fact that you were aware of his bad dream, and of course he could tell you anything, and talking about nightmares with someone else often helps you get a better nights sleep, he just stared at you with a blank look for a few seconds. he then threw himself up to sit facing away from you, taking some deep breaths that slowly devolved into a growl. you hesitantly said his name again, which apparently set him off, standing abruptly and shoving his nightstand.

“ghost,” he corrects flatly between clenched teeth, “get out.”

it was clear to see there was no arguing with him, so you just peel his shirt over your head and set it on the bed before dressing and all but running away.

simon makes no attempts to talk to you for a while following this incident, and it is was honestly for the best. you love him, but you cannot put yourself in the position to be hurt by him again. this is the forced distance you need to make a break from you very clearly unhealthy situation.

this goes on for months following the initial confrontation, no late night rendezvous, no talks, no nothing. absolutely cold turkey.

the rest of the 141 is so sick and tired of you both during this for various reasons. they can all feel the tension rolling off of you both when you are either in each other’s presence, or one of you is brought up. price, although he does care for the well-being of his teammates, needs to make sure that all of the cogs of the machine are in working order. soap hates that ghost is in emotional turmoil, but can do nothing about it because any hand extended in simon’s direction might be ripped off. gaz is not as close with ghost as soap is, and doesn’t have a real concern in the leadership side of things, but absolutely hates the anxiety it causes. he misses just having fun with his teammates, but now he knows any teasing could go unbelievably wrong.

all of this comes to a head after a particularly grueling mission which lands you and soap in medical. soap ended up fine, he just had a dislocated shoulder and a nasty slash on his leg that the doctors wanted to keep a little bit of an eye on to avoid anything worse. soap was a good bedside companion, and easy company compared to the new norm of being constantly on edge. but all good things had to end, and johnny was freed from bed-rest and had to get back to work after just a few days. you weren’t gifted the same luck, and ended having to stay an entire week due to a broken ankle and a not so great concussion. sitting in the dark and sleeping constantly was a nice break, but it’s inevitable to get a bit stir crazy.

there was honestly nothing that could have been done, it was just a shit show. despite it not really being anyone’s fault, price is not quiet about the fact that maybe things could have gone better if two CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS could act like ADULTS and COMMUNICATE at WORK without RUINING THE TEAM DYNAMIC. price comes to you with this message, which usually would be unwelcome, but after being bored out of your mind, any human interaction was a welcome experience. price also makes the not so subtle threat of forced therapy should you and ghost not talk to each other within the next week (this was not so welcome). you assure price that you will talk to ghost when you’re off of rest.

this ends your little vacation, and you have to start thinking about how you are going to go about discussing this with simon

you have to sit there with nothing else to do other than twiddling your thumbs and staring at the ceiling, stewing in the pit of anxiety that’s brewing in the base of your stomach.

the confrontation comes much sooner than you’d like

just a day before your release you’re going along with your usual rumination of your expected conversation with simon, the metal rings of the curtain around your bed screech as they’re pulled back. a nurse sticks her head in through the window with a smile and tells you that you have a visitor.

much to your surprise you see ghost in full gear standing by the door like a vulture or some sort of gargoyle.

you stare at each other for a moment before you break eye contact and pretend to busy yourself with sorting out your bedding. without looking you hear the scuff-scuff of simon’s shoes dragging across the floor, and then the scream of a chair being carried along for the ride.

simon positions the chair next to your bed and takes a seat.

there’s a long stretch of silence which you decide to break, just to get the conversation over with, you tell him price already explained the situation to you. you apologize for any uncomfortableness on the field and end with a generic “i hope that going forward this will not affect our work relationship”

simon sighs after you finish and the silence returns yet again.

this time you decide that the ball is officially in simon’s court although you couldn’t have expect his next move

ghost leans forward and rests his arms on his knees, allowing his head to meet his hands.

despite his now floor facing position, it’s quiet enough to hear him apologize. simon says he’s sorry. he says the way he treated you was unfair and needlessly cruel.

still a bit shocked, you remark that although his actions did hurt you, you appreciate the apology.

you decide it is only fair that for all the pain he caused, he should sit in the same silence he had left you in all of those times before. he would not find comfort in you.

it takes a while for him to respond, just telling you that he knows.

you tell simon again that you appreciate the apology, but there is nothing much else to say about the matter. as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, you understand him more than he’d like. you know that he is a good person even if he doesn’t think so. but he hurt you. your only crime was trying to be there for him. you tell him it was so unfair for him to treat you like you had done something horribly wrong by attempting to be closer to him. to constantly send you mixed messages about what the two of you were and the nature of your relationship was. you told him you felt like an idiot. for following him around as if he hadn’t already very clearly shown you what he thought of you. it simply wasn’t fair. if all he wanted was sex, you could have helped him find a hooker, hell, you would have payed for it, just to make things clearer for yourself.

simon’s shoulders raise and his chest expands with an uncharacteristically shaky breath. you look away after this, unwilling to admit that for all he’s caused, his pain is directly linked to yours, and seeing him in any kind of distress causes a physical response in you.

this is why you don’t notice when simon moves his hand from his knee to the railing of the bed. you only notice when you hear the his hand sliding across the fabric of the thin sheet that covers you. unwilling to investigate visually where this is going, you continue pretending the ceiling is more interesting than whatever the hell simon is doing.

your feigned boredom makes the surprise of simon resting his hand on yours all the more shocking. this must show on your face, because when you snap your head up to meet simon’s eyes, he seems a bit hesitant. despite this, he keeps his hand on yours, letting the unspoken question of wether this was ok hang thick in the air.

you nod and he nods back, curling your hand around to entwine your fingers with yours and starts rubbing his thumb back and forth across your knuckles.

he apologizes again. and says he knows you’re a good person. he knows you mean no harm, but he’s just afraid. he can’t help but think of how people who were supposed to love him treated him, and what happened to those who actually did. he knows this isn’t an excuse, but he needed to tell you. he needed to tell you that he misses you.

this is new. very new. you could never have dreamed of a conversation of this nature taking place with simon, and yet there you were

he tells you how much you mean to him, even if he doesn’t say it, and it’s not fair that you he can’t tell you.

there’s more silence, you don’t know if you could respond even if you tried

simon continues

he tells you he loves you

this obviously doesn’t fix everything, simon still has so much trouble believing your good intentions, but the difference now is that he’s trying

he decides that if he wants a real future with you he has to put in the work, so at your gentle suggestion, he asks price about his options for some therapy services he can get into contact with through the military (price choked on his own smoke)

you can still see simon trying to pull away sometimes but he warns you

when he comes back from a mission you hadn’t gone on for whatever reason, he will tell you if he had a particularly hard time. how he’s not feeling like himself at the moment and might need some space in the coming days.

he’s come to discover that this is much preferable to how he handles things before. you don’t get mad at him, you thank him with a comforting smile, telling him that you appreciate the fact that he told you and if he wants to talk about it you’ll be right here.

the nightmares are getting better too- well not the subject matter, but how he handles them

you’ll wipe the sweat from his brow after a nightmare and he tenses like he did when you thought it was over, but now he takes a few shuddering breaths before yanking you to him, arms wrapped around you in a vice grip and face shoved into the crook of your neck. he’s still tense, but not in the flight response you’re used to. breathes in your scent and mutters a gruff thank you as he tries to settle back into sleep. he hasn’t worked up the courage to tell what they’re about yet, but he takes comfort in the fact that you’ll be there for him if he needs.

he starts telling you things too.

simple things at first, like when he first read his favorite book. how his favorite color is dark blue because it reminds him of a blanket he had as a kid. you made some cookies for him one time, and he said he loved them, and told you about the last time he remembers having that sweet treat with his family.

most of it seems trivial, but such a huge step in the right direction it’s almost like he has been replaced by some imposter.

the culmination is when he takes you back to where he was raised. he walks you through the streets, hand in hand, and periodically stops to grab your attention. he will point out where he had his first job, his favorite restaurant that he only really liked because it was his moms favorite.

he is so much… more… now

the new best part of every day is when you and simon part ways for the day

as you go off to leave your practically shared room in the morning, simon always catches the you by the arm to bring you closer. he raises your hand to his lips, and closes his eyes, mumbling a quiet i love you against your skin

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO LONG

requests are open!

[jacksprostate]

f Narrator wanting to murder maim mutilate m marla.. or marla/ male marla and narrator/f narrator worsties/besties. or marla/male marla and tyler… or anything with marla/ male marla..

Marlon called me, interrupted me at work, and he said he had a bruise. He said I needed to come and look at it right away, because he needed to know.

This was him, asking me, pounded flank steak, to look and tell him the nature of his bruise.

Marlon hasn't had health insurance in years, so he tries not to think about it, usually. It's easy, since there's no difference when you have health insurance. It's old hat.

But today, he thought about it.

And he noticed a bruise.

So I'm walking up to the Regent hotel after work, and he's in the lobby in his limp little tank top. He'd call it a wifebeater and imagine himself in place of the wife, I'm sure. I wonder if he isn't cold all the time. Mr. Marlon Singer, such a masochist just so he can show off his skeletal body with all the cigarette burns I have to hear him and Tyler laughing over.

I am Jane's abnormal hemorrhoid development.

He doesn't mention what Tyler and I stole from him, even though I think it was all the cash he had. Even though just three days ago he tried to chase me around the house and beat me with a broom. He made me and Tyler go sleep in the junkyard. Buried under our furs, howling at the moon. Maybe I can't fault him for that.

He couldn't keep it here where the guys he brings back could get at it, he said, and sure. But he should've known better than to tell Tyler about it, because now it's bags upon bags of lye being kept in the driest room in the house.

I work on grinding cracks into my remaining teeth as he grabs his neighbors Agatha and Dianne's Meals on Wheels kits. The delivery lady remarks on what a good young man Marlon must be, helping out these old ladies. Oh, yeah. A real, upstanding, mummified rat of a man. Maybe he helped them into the ditch. He yaps at me the entire walk up to his room, and I don't hear a word as I methodically rip up the skin around Tyler's kiss on my hand with a broken nail. It's been infected since Tuesday, and the ring of puffy red flesh makes the ghost of her lips white like the center of a neon tube. Always buzzing.

We get to his room, he says to me, "One of these boxes is for you, you know."

I think about all the women who bother to use what little time they have to operate charities that keep the poor and destitute alive enough to want to kill themselves. All that time spent cooking mac and cheese en masse and putting little packets of powdered milk next to little cartons of the liquid, like they get at schools and prisons, packets that can only be opened by the nimble fingers of caring relatives these elderly recipients do not have.

Sure.

Tyler told me I need to be eating at least two meals a day, or she'd steal a blender and make me drink raw chicken. So I eat the Meals on Wheels box. Sorry Agatha. I rip open the powdered milk packet, dump it into the carton, hold it closed, and shake it. Twice the calories. A recipe for palliative care.

Marlon's sitting there, quiet, eating Dianne's latest last meal. All the urgency is gone. Sucked dry. He's got pallor like a hospice heart failure. When dogs get treated for heartworms, the worms die, and sometimes, not all of them break apart. Sometimes, there will be thin, dead cords of necrotized nematode strung through their heart waiting for the right beat to fall apart and clot a vital artery. This can take years to happen. Your pet recovers perfectly from treatment until seven years down the line, you give it a doggy cupcake and a pulmonary embolism for its tenth birthday.

Marlon looks like he's had his first melarsomine injection and his owner is thinking about taking him to a dog park instead of bothering with the second. If you let a dog get its heart rate up too high when getting treated for all the parasites you let grow in it, its heart will explode. Or all the worms will clog its lungs. Whichever one it is, it's happening to Marlon here in this room. On this bed.

He says he'd found a bruise, a while back. A nasty little thing, like the crush of a plum under your thumb. Near one of his ankles. And Marlon Singer knew he couldn't afford any novel treatments, and he'd seen too many people rot from the inside out from them already. He did not go to the clinic down the street that gets its windows broken in often enough that there's just big black billowing sails of trashbags over their storefront more often than not. Marlon says he once saw a rat nailed to the door, which is something you'd think would be too neat and poetic for real life. He didn't go to the clinic because he didn't have to. And maybe if he was fucking guys he wanted to he would be a bit more cautious, but the men Marlon Singer gets to fuck are the type to have given him those bruises in the first place. They're the reason there's single mothers visiting that clinic, like half melted wax getting scraped out of the picture. He says he shouldn't feel guilty.

I tell Marlon about where I got the idea for poisoning all the food at the Pressman hotel.

He asks me what I mean by that, and I tell him about my first boss at the company I work for now.

When I first started there, I was selling our cars to companies. Bulk orders for work vehicles. My job was to not fuck up any contracts we already had. Marlon is probably aware, but the type of man involved in that sort of thing, he knows he's got you on a collar and chain. You and him both know he'll be renewing the contract, but you have to do the song and dance for him. Pretend you like how close he gets to you. Pretend you don't want to rip his testicles from his ballsack when he leans in sweaty and tells you how he likes your hair, did you go and do all that just for me?

Because he knows. And you know. But enduring this is what you were hired to do. If you were a man, you would've been hired to create a sense of the old boys club with this guy. But you're not.

There is so much pretense in the world.

Anyway, my first boss, call him Joe — whenever I'd return from those trips and dinners, Joe wouldn't pretend that it wasn't a shit job. He'd commiserate and wish me luck with the next one. He didn't overstep, he wasn't creepy, he kept his distance. The best you could hope for. Thirty days on the job, they asked me how I was doing, and I told them I was doing great. The job was amazing, I felt embraced by the company, my boss was great. One of those things was true to me.

And when Joe got his promotion, for being such a great regional manager, he cornered me in my cubicle and informed me he'd been jerking off into my nicely labeled thin salad lunches each time they showed up in the office fridge. He told me this with the same smile he'd always worn.

Marlon, he's next to me, and he leans closer like we're having a nice little confession. My skin itches.

It was before the 90 day clause kicked in my health coverage, so I had to wait at one of those free clinics like Marlon's, and I was surrounded by a lot of young men, wispy mangled pears. What little flesh was left was soft. When I told the nurse what happened, I watched myself die in her eyes. Dappling up with rashes and bruises until I was all painted and sunken like a bog body.

For the longest time, I wondered if I'd become the oral Mary. How many times I vomited in that office toilet, I don't know. I stopped bringing lunch.

The thing is, I couldn't see it in his face. Joe's, I mean. Not even when he told me. I couldn't see it in anyone. So I stopped eating out. Stopped eating altogether, really.

Marlon, his response was to go to the support groups. His tragedy was that it was a slow death, coming for him. Best to wriggle into the pile of dying bodies, see what it's like. Maybe that could muster enough suicidal impulse.

I tell Marlon, of course, I couldn't go to HR. I was a new hire with no evidence and previous record of liking my boss. I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. Those uncomfortable dinners became absolutely, wretchedly unbearable as I thought about the food I was being forced to share.

When the option came up for a dead end job in the least loved department in the building, I put on the best performance of my life to get the part. Best aspiring Compliance and Liability head and sole department employee, that's me. My new job was to keep secrets. It was, already, old hat.

For months I thought about waking up from a narcoleptic fit at my desk, with Joe leaning over the cubicle wall and asking if I was alright. I watched my stomach like it was nuclear. Every extra second it took until I bled like usual slid me closer to buying myself a shotgun and pumping a slug or two into my brain.

It's an unavoidable fear, I tell Marlon. You can't do anything about it. Once you know, you know. At some point, you have to find the peace in it. Imagine yourself, a balloon popping with meaty chunks flying apart, splattering onlookers and raining viscera.

For a month, six months, I had cancer. Worse than cancer. Every time I eat out, I get it again.

Marlon is looking at me, melting stained glass, drowning in that sort of shared pity you build together with someone who's dying.

I don't want Marlon to feel guilty.

I tell Marlon, that's why I poison the food at the Pressman hotel. Someone's got to do it. Blood in the tomato sauce, spit on the steak. Imagine what you could do to a soup. The men who go to the Pressman hotel, they're the kind that leave Marlon bloody and walking around Paper Street calling for Tyler to come out and burn more holes into him. They're the kind that get promoted from regional manager. They're the kind that lean in close, pull your wrist towards them, and say there's one way they know you could secure the contract renewal. The kind that almost ruin it in a temper tantrum when you don't, resulting in an upper management intervention on the 24th day of your new job. They're the kind that hear that shit and say you should've been more appeasing. More polite.

Don't feel guilty, Marlon.

I hope all of them rot so everyone can see the maggots eating their insides.

Marlon isn't smiling. I am unavoidably bad at distracting him. There's something final in it, when he sighs, and takes off his tank top. He says it's on his back, and I should just tell him.

I look. I see it. Black hole, botfly, necrosis. There's so many things these broken blood vessels could be. Withering, snapping apart like mummified heartworms. I imagine driving the two inch melarsomine needle deep into the muscles bunched upon his spine.

I look.

I press my hands into him, and I grip like I'm trying to rend my fingers through his skin, deep into his body cavity to rip out his guts. Like I'm trying to grab the rope of his small intestine and strangle him with it. Marlon's yelling at me and trying to hit me, arms flapping like a chicken, and I am bruising ten deep circles into the soft pearskin of his abdomen. It's the only place left on him that's mealy, that isn't frayed rope under worn out leather.

I tell him, you've got bruises. They look mostly normal, to me.

Don't worry too much about it.

And Marlon, he leans into me, and I let him.

[misskattylashes]

I have had to say something because I am fed up with all the hate directed towards Alex. And Miles being painted as some tragic Victorian heroine sitting at her window weeping, waiting for her handsome prince to return to her.

Does Miles look unhappy to you? He has a successful career, great friends, a lovely home and most of all, his beautiful little dog. Has it ever crossed your mind that he might be happy single?

Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe him and Alex could possibly have a relationship? They constantly share clothes, Miles has frequently slipped up...only recently speaking about when they’re sitting on the sofa of an evening with their acoustic guitars. How do we think Alex got the idea from Miles of having a screen that reflects the audience, recommended The Mysterines to support AM in the UK, asked Miles to appear at The Emirates Stadium in June, and most of all support the band in Ireland? It’s not done by osmosis. Alex and Miles have a relationship. Whether or not it is sexual is not for me to say. But just because you don’t see them together doesn’t mean they aren’t friends. They live within minutes of each other in London and share many mutual old friends – including the rest of AM and the likes of Tyler and Davey.

I hear many people say when it is suggested Louise is a beard, that Alex would not do that. Alex became famous at 19. He was young and impressionable, and once again I am not saying whether any of his relationships have been fake, but once he started to blossom it was pretty obvious he was going to be a heartthrob and a big selling point to the US audience. His cute little bromance with Miles would have become problematic so he may well have been advised to enter ‘straight’ relationships to keep up the hetrosexual image. Yes he is now a grown man, but fear of coming out can be crippling but it doesn’t mean, in private a person doesn’t have fulfilling relationships. He is probably bound by iron-clad contracts to do certain amounts of publicity, and if spending a few days a year with a girl he’s friends with, who will also benefit from the relationship, means he can live the rest of his life in peace with Miles or whoever he is in a relationship with then let him do it.

Most of all stop turning Miles’ life into a fan fic. I write them myself but I perfectly appreciate the real Miles and Alex aren’t the ones in my imagination.

[embodyingchaos]

❥ YAY first tyler request, he's so baby, sorry this is so late! @user40724432sworld

yandere tyler(dog days) headcanons warnings: yandere behaviour, stalking, obsession, creepy tyler, delusional tyler, implications of murder, manipulation, gaslighting

whew this is gonna be a hard one bc i can barely picture tyler as a yandere but i shall try my best

i feel as though if tyler were to like someone he’d be pretty shy about it, he would watch them from afar, without being creepy of course

but as time passes by he starts to become a bit obsessive over his crush, maybe too obsessive

obsessive to the point he knows where and when you’d run your daily errands, what your coffee order was(not from asking you but by grabbing your empty cup and smelling it like a CREEP) and where your parents lived

he hadn’t talked to you, not once, but he seemed to like that fact

without talking to you, he can imagine what you’d be like if he did talk to you, your responses and your expressions, he could imagine you in any way possible, sure it was delusional but who cares?

of course this all ended once you had eventually bumped into him while going to the library, he was daydreaming about you as he watched you and hadn’t noticed you making your way towards him

you knocked the drink out of his hand and onto the floor, quickly apologising and he was just taken aback, rendered speechless over the fact the imaginary love of his life was speaking to him

he doesn’t say anything for a while, a long while, to the point you’re sorta creeped out by him

“hello? are you alright?” you’d ask and he would shake his head out of it before nervously chuckling and nodding, “y-yeah! i am! s-sorry, you’re just.. so much more beautiful up close.” and this compliment would of course get you enamoured with him, unbeknownst to you that this boy had been following you for a month now

he was glad that you were almost exactly how he pictured, almost

you had a lot of friends, too many for his liking, he didn’t care if they were a guy or a girl, he didn’t like their playful flirting, or teasing jabs, he hated them

when you guys started dating, he had to slowly take them out one by one, using their phones to text you or someone else in your friend group that they’d left the country or some sort of bullshit like that

you were unsuspicious of it at first, until there were only about two friends left in your group, and you were weirded out, why would they all leave so randomly? and not even say goodbye in person?

you would have confided in tyler and he’d just say “maybe it’s cause they weren’t your true friends. i am, though. your true friend and boyfriend, and i’d never leave you, sweetheart.” and you’d be soothed and fall deeper into the hands of someone who was capable of so many horrible things

[miscfandomwrites]

Ghost

A/N: This is one of my first fics but it did get a decent liking to it so I will be reuploading it.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Location: Marvel > Wanda Maximoff > Oneshots

Words: 1.5k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

“You are not seriously wearing that, are you?” Questioned Tony as I walked by him. 

I was wearing a white dress shirt tucked into black pants, my hair a bit messy but down. I had a set of silver rings on both hands, and I was wearing a pair of black boots. 

“I am.” I replied, heading to the elevator. 

“You realize every woman will be on you in a matter of seconds?” He questioned as he followed me in the elevator. 

“That’s the point,” I answered. 

There was in fact only one woman I wanted on me tonight, if she’ll have me.

~~~

“You did what?” Steve gasped. 

I grinned at him. “Stark hasn’t noticed yet, and I got a photo to prove it” I told him. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the photo of a note stuck to the back of Stark’s suit that read “Kick me”

While it was childish, it got her attention which is what I wanted. 

~~~

It was getting late, and the Gala was still going on, despite it being nearly midnight. I was talking to someone who I didn’t know, when I decided to ask her. 

I conjured up the words in my head and glanced around to find her. 

Wanda was wearing a red dress that did nothing to help the need growing between my legs. With low cleavage and a slit up her left thigh, and the way the fabric hugged her curves…

Damn, I had a thing for women in dresses. 

Suddenly a song started playing that I recognized- Jungle, by Nina Chuba.

Care to dance? I asked her, along with an image of us on the dance floor. 

She turned to look at me, with a small smile and swore my heart started beating faster. 

Of course. 

I walked to her, completely leaving the person I was talking to. She had several men around her, all behaving like dogs. 

“May I have this dance, Miss Maximoff?” I asked her. She grinned at me as the men turned to look at me with various emotions that I had no care to observe from. Only hers. 

“You may” she replied as she held out her hand, which I took. 

I led her to the dance floor, twirling her once we got on. I had one hand on her hip, the other holding her other hand in the air, as she reseted her hand on my shoulder. 

“You look beautiful tonight” I told her, gazing at her startling blue eyes. The calm and delight that they held in them reminded me of the sky after a rainstorm. 

She smirked at me. “Don’t I look beautiful every night, Ghost?” She said. Ghost was my callsign, partially due to my abilities and partially due to my habit of disappearing and reappearing out of nowhere. 

“There has never been a day where you have not been beautiful.” I replied, smiling at her. 

She let go of my hand and put it on the back of my neck, and moved closer to me. We were gently swaying to the music, and I rested my other hand on her shoulder. 

She smiled back at me, humming the song. 

I turned my head and saw the men she was with earlier, glaring at us. She turned her head too, and leaned into me. 

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” She asked, as I started glaring at the men. 

“Good idea.” I answered, taking her hand and leading her to the elevator. 

Once we got in and the doors closed, she grabbed my collar and kissed me. She tasted like strawberry chapstick and cinnamon, just as I had imagined. 

I laced a hand through her hair and pulled her closer, and put my other hand on the small of her back. I nipped at her lip and she gladly opened her mouth to me. I backed her up to the wall, pressing her against it. She broke the kiss to look at me. “Care to show me how much you want me?” she asked. I grinned at her. 

“You’ve been listening to my thoughts, haven’t you?” I asked her. 

“About the fact that you want my dress on the floor, of the fact you have a thing for women in dresses?” she replied, smirking. 

“Damn then, you’re in for a hell of a night” I grinned at her. 

The elevator stopped at my floor, and I pulled her out of it, pushing her against the wall right outside of it. 

I had my hands on her hips and was pressing into her. She wrapped her legs around me, and I started grinding into her as she gasped. She leaned her head back, moaning softly as I started kissing her neck. I pressed kisses to her collarbone, before my lips found her mouth again. 

“Do you want marks?” I questioned. This was more so she wasn’t questioned and was comfortable having them.

“Show them who I belong to.” 

That was all it took. I lifted her off the wall and carried her to my room, making sure to leave plenty of marks along her neck and chest. 

I leaned her against the bed as we kicked off our shoes. I started pulling her dress off of her, groaning at the sight of her braless breasts. 

I kissed down her chest, taking one of her nipples in my mouth while I rolled the other between my thumb and forefinger. 

Her hand found its way into my hair as she let out a breathless whisper of my name. I switched, taking the other in my mouth. She started grinding against me, and I placed one of my thighs between her legs so she’d have more friction. 

Fuck, I could feel her heat through my pants. 

I kissed down her stomach, sliding the rest of her dress off. She was wearing a lacy pair of black underwear, which were quickly taken off. I kissed the top of her mound and the inside of her thighs. 

“Please” she asked. I looked up and saw her kiss-swollen lips and piercing blue eyes starting at me. 

I grinned back and licked her folds as she fell back against the bed, cursing. 

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me darling?” I asked. Her essence was coating her inner thighs and damn, it tasted sweet. 

I licked against, from her entrance to her clit, flicking it with my tongue. I put her thighs on my shoulders and pressed my face more into her, licking and occasionally sucking one of her lips. 

I took her clit in my mouth and was rewarded by a near yell of my name. I sucked on it, and felt her thighs shaking around me. I carefully entered one finger and curled it, then another. A jumped mess of words fell out of her mouth, some curse words, others my name, and one that definitely caught my attention as I kept curling my fingers.

“Fuck-(Y/N) please please don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!” she cried out, moaning. 

I kept up my minstations, sucking harder on her clit as she let out a loud moan, the hand in my hair gripping tighter. I felt her walls start to squeeze my fingers and I kept going. 

I looked up right as she came and fuck, I wanted that photo intergrained in my head permanently. Her back was arched, her hair spread out on the bed, her other hand gripping the sheets as she lets out a moan. 

I coaxed her through it, eventually earning another orgasum from her. My mouth switched places with my fingers, causing her to scream my name as she came again. 

I finally stopped, licking her essence off of her thighs, and flicked her clit with my tongue as she whimpered. 

I stood up, licking my fingers as she started at me. 

“Fuck, that was good” she told me. I grinned at her. 

“I can do better.” I replied. Suddenly a loud chime started playing, from which Wanda grabbed her phone. 

She answered it as I went to my bathroom, wetting a washcloth and coming back to her telling someone that she’d be there in a bit. 

I wiped her down carefully, as she asked me “Do you do this with all your lays?” 

I chucked and tossed the washcloth in the laundry basket, and then helping her back in her dress. 

“Only with the ones I really like” I replied. She smiled at me as I helped stabilize her as she put her heels back on.

“I wish I could reciprocate, but I’m needed downstairs. Later, though?” She asked. 

I grinned. “I’m always here.” I replied. She smirked at me and walked out the door. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tilting my head back and breathing out a curse. 

“Fuck”

I sent a mental image to her, of her between my thighs and I got a one-word response from her. 

Later. 

[of-comfort-and-love]

Scrubs Are Not For The Summer

Originally started on: 07/04/2023

Word Count: 434

Omg, I just remembered I'm a writer. XD

Finally got inspired to write something. It's summer and it's hot and I'm all sweaty and muggy and yucky and I hate it!!!

So, I figured why not let my Trau.ma Cen.ter insert suffer with me. Pfft- It was honestly about time I wrote something for this game.

It must be very difficult to work in a hospital when it's so hot outside. I hope they have good air conditioning.

For the record, this takes place after the events of Under The Knife 2.

Doubles DNI. If you ship, Der/Ang (Der.ek X An.gie), please be respectful and don't mention the ship to me, as it makes me uncomfortable. Thanks for understanding!

Tag List: @topstarodeo @rose-wine-selfships @syos-princess @ofieugogyshz @vaporvvave @bipocselfship-archive @so-sang-the-hollow @luvsailor @mystrunmah) Please let me know if you want your name added/removed.) 🙏🏾

"I. hate. Summer." I scorned through clenched teeth, dabbing the beads of sweat off my neck with a paper towel.

"Hate's a strong word to use, Crystal.", Dr. Stiles replied with a chuckle as he handed me a water bottle.

I scoffed and rested it on a nearby desk, glaring at the frosty drops of water dripping off the side.

Unfortunately for us, the air conditioner in the offices broke down, so we were stuck with other options to keep cool when we weren't operating.

Chilled water bottles from the freezer. Fans with rotating heads that didn't have strong enough power.

Those were all fine, but it didn't compare to the cool breeze from the AC. It didn't help that we were stuck in our scrubs.

"You know, we should plan a beach day for the whole office," Derek suddenly declared, his eyes focused on the computer as he looked through various files.

"A beach day, huh? I don't think I'd consider myself a beach type of gal," I scratched my chin before sipping my water. It was definitely needed, especially in this god-awful heat.

"Heh, I'm certain everyone could use a day at the beach once in their life. Besides, wouldn't you prefer to be taking a nice dip in the water instead of getting all muggy in this warm office?"

He did make a good point. Although I've never been to the beach before so...

"What do you think would suit me better- a bikini or a one-piece? Regardless, my ass is gonna be out in public."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that last comment. The sudden pause from the keyboard typing took me out of my funny moment.

"O-oh well uh..."

I looked over and noticed Derek's ears were flushed a bright red.

Was he really imagining me in a swimsuit? Geez, what a perv...

"I think you'd look amazing in anythi- AH!"

My sudden kiss on his burning earlobes left him unable to finish his sentence.

"Wrong answer, Dr. Stiles", I whispered teasingly, giggling as he held his head and his hand.

"Derek, you sly dog. Remind me to give you two plenty of alone time on that company retear to the beach.", another voice exclaimed with a suave tone.

Now it was my turn to get flustered. I whipped my head around to see none other than Tyler himself, a wide smirk spread across his face.

"M-mind your business, Chase!"

He burst into laughter, my face now beginning to burn from embarrassment.

Way to ruin the moment. Note to self: put a lock on Dr. Stiles' office door...

[toasterhasabucket]

so. imagine this: you are tyler black, a young wrestler on the independent circuit. there is another young wrestler working the indies, jon moxley, and you hear about him all the time but you've never actually wrestled him and you've only really met him once in the back of a truck.

the year is 2010, and you sign with Florida Championship Wrestling, FCW– the (at the time) developmental territory for famous company WWE. you change your name to seth rollins, and you're doing pretty good there, actually. then another guy signs, the guy you met that one time actually, except now his name is dean ambrose. and he's a little obsessed with you. you have this feud where you stare longingly at eachother and try to figure out what this guy wants with you, and continue to orbit eachother throughout your time in fcw-nxt

then, one day, in 2012, you get a call. they want you to come up to the big boy roster– but not just you. they take you, they take that guy leakee you know (roman reigns), and they take dean. they put you all on a team and give you black tactical gear and throw you into the metaphorical lions den together. you and these two other men who will become your brothers in arms, all against the world.

and that is how the shield debuts! described as "two indie schmucks and a football player", seth, dean, and roman go into that world together and soon enough an incredibly dominant force in the wwe universe, one that stands for justice and truth, which obviously makes them a lot of enemies. they may be hired by cm punk's manager to protect him, you know, if anyone can prove that (plead the fifth) but they go from little mercenaries for hire to their own unit, and start working for themselves, because they don't need anyone but them– and working together like they do, they get to the top of the food chain very quickly.

this much success and power might not be good for them, honestly, because dean starts acting out and being more and more impulsive, and him and roman start butting heads, with seth left to try to mediate until it frustrates him to the point of walking out on them during a match. but they're good, right? they talk through it, hit eachother a little bit, but all brothers fight sometimes. they still love eachother!

and then seth destroys everything.

he takes a chair to the backs of his brothers, beats them ruthlessly while the crowd screams "why" at him, as seth decides to join up with the authority, a heel stable led by triple h, the big boss of wwe, and his wife stephanie. he sells out his family and his integrity for the chance to be something bigger, promises triple h feeds into his ears of being a champion all by himself. how he was the one who created the shield, he was more than dean and roman if he would only let the authority help him get there.

roman takes his feelings of betrayal to the authority, to the money-hungry soulless people that run this company, dean, though. he takes everything straight to seth. he vows to haunt seth for the rest of their lives, to burn together, to make seth feel the amount of pain that he's put dean in. and he keeps losing, with seth getting away at the last second with help of the authority or running away from him, but dean just chases him. ruins every chance he has of cashing in his MITB contract, runs in on his matches, steals his belts and briefcase and even makes him the victim of harmless pranks just to make sure he can never rest. dean is written off as being crazy, part of his "lunatic" reputation, but everything he does is to mask the heartbreak he feels, for losing his brother, his best friend, losing the only safe space he's ever had with the shield. even during their summerslam he can't stop himself from kissing seths forehead and telling him he loved him before stomping his head into the ground. seth is having trouble choosing between being the authoritys good little lap dog and the regret and feelings he still has for his former best friend, not really taking any joy out of their matches together when he wins. even when their feud isn't quite as intense as it once was, they stay bitter exes, even if dean eventually loses some of the anger he held. and they go their seperate ways, seemingly putting eachother in their pasts.

in the meantime, though, seth realizes that the authority used him as a means to destroy the shield, and hunter discarded him the second he was no longer useful to him. he realizes that he let those empty promises get into his head and that he destroyed his family for it, to get nothing in the end. realizes that love shouldn't be conditional, he shouldn't only feel worthy when he's winning things for the authority. that he doesn't like who he became, and he tells hunter all of this to his face and defeats him during their match at wrestlemania 33, getting justice for the version of himself in 2014 that he lost forever. he reconciles with roman, and once dean makes his way back around to him, he's seemingly undergone his whole redemption arc and they live happily ever after!

just kidding, dean still doesn't trust him, and he sure as hell doesn't forgive him. ("I got burned by you once, not gonna happen again.") seth tries a lot of things, helping dean out with fighting miz, saying he's changed. dean tells him he's not interested in a shield reunion, that seths burnt all his bridges with him, but when seth finds himself in trouble with miz and the miztourage– dean comes out to save him.

theyre brought together by a mutual enemy in the miz, with seth trying to rekindle their bond and dean practically running in the opposite direction. seth ends up apologizing in front of an entire crowd, the first time he's ever apologized for The Incident, and even tells dean to hit him with a chair if it'll help him because he just wants them back together. dean throws the chair to the side, refusing to strike him, but he doesn't accept the apology either. but he cant help their natural wrestling chemistry coming out in full swing every time they're in the ring together, like they never missed a beat in all their years apart. he knows they work well together, but he doesn't reciprocate any emotional advances. he's terrified of being hurt again, as much as he clearly wants it. they're an incredible tag team, though, despite their relationship issues, with them eventually becoming tag team champions. they reunite with roman to fight the miz, and the shield makes their official return in 2018. and they lived happily ever after.*

*(well. roman has a hiatus for health reasons, they have dean turn heel and betray seth, and the writing is so bad that dean kind of leaves the company entirely. they give the shield one last ride to say goodbye to dean, though. and then that's that. but close enough.)

Evil. I thought you actually meant it ended well, what is this. Evil.

Love them, this is evil

Boys hug it out frowning face emoji ! !

You gave me an idea, I'll be back, you did this to me

[campgender]

mac’s tags

links + descriptions under the cut

note: some of these tags tumblr doesn’t like to link because of special characters; those will be added as tags to this post so they can be accessed from there.

all of the excerpts i post are tagged as “mac’s bookshelf.”

butch, femme, both

everything goes back to femme – some of the infinite fem(me) ways, both my own & others’. line from “Between My Fingers” by Stacey Park Milbern

they are our stigmata – butches & butch ways. line from “The Butch Question” by Judith P. Stelboum

butch/femme – romantic, platonic, sexual, & beyond

but what gets it for me is high femme – high femme posts & resonances; line from Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg

οἱ λίθοι κράξουσιν – “the stones will cry out,” from Luke 19:40. tag for stone sexuality more broadly - stone topping & bottoming, clothed sex, sex without touching

mutual polarization – femmebottom4femmebottom; answers to the perpetual “what’re they gonna do, get in bed & hold hands?”

double role playing – futch, stem(me), & others who embody both butch & fem(me) identities. phrase from a quote by narrator Mattie interviewed in Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold

sex

impurity culture – sex ed & building a sexual ethic

tomorrow sexting will be good again – sexting-as-sex + related practices & boundaries. a play on Foucault’s quote “tomorrow sex will be good again,” also the title of a book by Katherine Angel

places to be had by – non-normative sex from a crip high femme lens. denial, vaginismus, impotence & other non-penetrative wonders. line from “The Cure for Melancholy Is to Take the Horn” by Natalie Diaz

another night wandering the desire field – longing & fantasy; line from “From the Desire Field” by Natalie Diaz

eat your meals at the red table of my heart – the feminine urge to treat a man like your dog & other assorted high femmedom viscera. line from “If I Should Come Upon Your House Lonely in the West Texas Desert” by Natalie Diaz

why not take me now as i am? – kink, leather, promiscuity, cruising; line from “Shameless” by Tyler Glenn

bottom text – bottoming & the meanings imposed on it

one must imagine the wound man in sexual ecstasy – S&M

simone weil says that when you really love you are able to look at someone you want to eat and not eat them – looking at someone you want to eat. line from “After the Movie” by Marie Howe

indignity of risk – forthcoming poetry chapbook about eroticizing / playing with chronic illness

asexual tendencies – phrase from Asexual Erotics by Ela Przybylo

spirituality

in the dark i thought i heard somebody call – spiritual experiences, posts that resonate with my spiritual beliefs + practices. line from “To the Dogs or Whoever” by Josh Ritter

habitual intertwinement – drug use; phrase from “4mg of Phenomenology” by Dr. Simone Dennis

quaker tag – Quakerism & pantheism

❌ – rage in the key of religious trauma. the red X symbol was used by Tyler Glenn (in lipstick on his face & later a tattoo on his wrist) in his 2016 album Excommunication

i got the holy roll ❤️‍🔥 – christian trauma but make it fashion. line from “Fever Pitch” by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

self-image, mirroring, & ancestry

she steals the show (she is the show of difference) – a gender tag of sorts. line from “Revealing Femmegimp” by Loree Erickson

epistemic love poem – hermeneutical justice; the frameshifts that enables us to recognize our own oppression + discuss our experiences. phrase from poem of the same title by Heather McHugh

all day my body accepts what it is – things that make me go “me shaped!” + fat art, fat fashion. line from “August” by Mary Oliver

fag4dyke <3

you are the result of the love of thousands – ancestorship in general; line from Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World by Linda Hogan (i haven’t read this i just liked the quote)

unnatural frequency – people & figures i consider personal ancestors + moments of highly specific resonance across time & space

fashion

lipstick technology – phrase from The Color Pynk: Black Femme Art for Survival by Omise’eke Natasha Tinsley

​how we dress the mouth reflects what we need it for – lipstick; line from Lipstick: A Celebration of the World’s Favorite Cosmetic by Jessica Pallingston

it’ll be the goddamned dress they bury me in. – red dress dreams; line from “What Do Women Want?” by Kim Addonizio

i am tough; i’ve got nails like god – nail art, fake nails as femcrip technology, high fem manicure emotions. line from the song “Nails Like God” by McCafferty

disability

life is in your house too – homeboundedness

tabula rasa – memory loss

the epic highs & lows of emotional lability – severe mood swings (in this case related to brain damage)

movements of the uncontrollable body – movement disorder; phrase from piece of the same name by Bronwyn Valentine

[besidesitstoowarm]

"The Waters of Mars" thoughts

hey y'all it's been a minute. i'm going to knuckle through the last few eps of the davies era before i leave the country. anyway this one was good

this feels like the clearest throughline so far from s4. the doctor is experiencing the same emotions as many a greek protagonist– he has been touched by fate and destiny so profoundly, so inarguably, that he lashes out powerlessly. some of this is a reaction to being alone, deeply alone, having lost all the friends he has made since the time war ended, but some of it is about HOW he lost them. he was destined to meet donna, travel with her, he was actually a pawn in HER destiny, her journey. "journey's end" that was HER journey, he was HER companion in a sense. for someone so accustomed to having the upper hand, especially someone like ten, i can imagine how bad that shook him

cause like, this is ten, you know? i remember nine's last story, i remember "a coward, any day." i remember how he chose suicide, not because it would destroy the daleks but bc it meant he didn't have to live to see them kill everyone. coward, absolutely. the time lord victorious is the polar opposite. time lord victorious is glorious, violent arrogance. what was the change? what happened in the meantime? a lot, but primarily, rose tyler. rose-badwolf forced the regeneration, ten absorbed some of her into him, and time lord victorious is PURE rose tyler. her audacity, her confidence, her arrogance, all wrapped up with a fragile doctor who has lost all and has suddenly realized there are no rules, no rulemakers

the doctor has always been the "teenage rebel" but that implies youth, obedience, an authority figure to defy. it implies a kind of harmless messiness. but that authority figure is gone, before the war he was a father and a grandfather and now he is neither, he is an orphan, he is a widower, he is the very last of the time lords and he is completely lost as a rebel in a universe that suddenly has given him nothing to rebel against

i'm not going to recap the episode. go watch it if you don't remember it, it's really good. a few points: "name, rank, and intention" "the doctor, doctor, and... fun" that's a good one. adelaide was born in 1999 which makes sense for this being 2059 but hello??? adelaide brooke is gen z?? it's 2024 is she on tik tok rn?? girl. so the doctor notes that they have the first flower to bloom on mars in 10,000 years, not sure if that's referencing anything. we get several ice warriors mentions tho, respect

this whole episode has kind of a "the thing" vibe, i like it. viral life form in the glacier, can't tell who's infected. wish this episode had a fucked up dog. uniquely this episode has ten trying to leave, repeatedly. it was pretty common in classic who for the doctor to land somewhere randomly and then go "hm. i don't care much for this. goodbye" and be thwarted, cause he was messy back then. nowadays tho he's not like that, this is unique, this is notable. he finally admits it's a fixed point, a thing i think means nothing except whatever any particular episode writer wants it to mean. which is fine, this is doctor who after all. he takes it back at the end, decides he's above the law bc there are no lawmakers anymore, but forgets that other people have agency. adelaide killing herself got a gasp from my bf

a bit of the "bad wolf" theme plays during the time lord victorious speech which proves my point imo. this is rose, this is rose's influence. she did this, she made him this way, and i don't think that's even a bad thing! in so many ways she made him better. but she also took this fragile war-torn survivor of genocide and made him angry, hard, fanatically right about everything. we also got a bit of "vale decem" at the end around adelaide's suicide cause like yeah this is very distinctly leading to his death

i know this has been extremely rambly but i truly think this episode (which is mostly "the impossible planet" meets "the thing" until the last 15 minutes) is deeply rich thematically and ties into threads i've been picking up on since "the parting of the ways" like ten's era has SO MUCH going on in it!! it's a commentary on nine, on rose, on the time war, on destiny, on classic who, on new who's forward direction. and it'll lead so elegantly into eleven's era, who lives in extreme opposition to having once been ten (as is pointed out directly in "day of the doctor") i think we lose the plot a bit after that. but that's quite a ways away in my recapping. anyway this story is really good and this era is so rich

also this episode was in memory of barry letts. pour one out

[jacksprostate]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The five days Tyler's stolen my voice from me, I spend watching. The commons, group therapy. I visit my cave with my eyes open. Mills should get used to the cold. I've heard if it drops below 50 while your respiration is this depressed, you go to sleep and never wake up.

Valley of the Dogs.

An orderly with fresh bruises peppering his temple lets me take my walk in the same time Mills is carted around. This is how I must've looked for months. Glazed. Drooling. At this point they probably have to use elephant tranquilizers on me, the tolerance I've built.

God, his petty ass, we meet up for one on one and he says he has to give me some bad news.

No, it's not about Mills.

Tyler, whatever.

He is giving me the bad news, of the passing of one Marla Singer. Everyone seems to think this is bad news. Found dead in her apartment because she didn't pick up any Meals on Wheels for her neighbors for three weeks, and they worried about those little old ladies, up there all starving alone since their angel in black stopped showing up.

Her corpse was found, instead. I imagine it all waxy, tits rotted off just like she said, at some point you're so sick even the bacteria in your gut won't bother decomposing you. I imagine Marla's skin pulling back, fleeing, away from her eyes, her teeth, like a mummy. Dried out as all her collagen rots.

Paper clutched in her hand. A will, sort of hasty and half-assed.

Marla's many worldly possessions all fit on a hotel notepad.

Many other worthless things go to a small number of worthless people Marla has mentioned leaving behind in her life, and god says, Marla Singer has left me something.

That's the entire reason I get to know all of this.

If not, I would've never known.

The world could blow up, and you'd never know in here unless it was in someone's will to tell you.

Marla Singer left me her dildo.

Oh, Marla.

Addressed me in the will half the time as Tyler.

I wonder, did the cancer spread from her tits to her brain, like the cancer I didn't have. It's everywhere now. God says they're working out treatment. I wonder if it matters.

Without Tyler between us, I don't really know what connected me and Marla.

What kept her calling.

I liked her. Another psycho boyfriend in her stories. There will never be another, unless she's gone to Heaven, the real one, and they've got some sort of exchange program going on for her to have fun with.

I think Marla might deserve that. She deserved better than this.

I wonder if it was pills. There was no Tyler to save her, this time. No one to listen to her death rattle. I don't have the voice to ask.

I won't be getting her dildo, because you don't get possessions in a psych ward. It'll get dumped in some other landfill to persist for time immemorial with all the other plastic iconography of our stupid, stupid lives.

Released back out to pasture, I watch Mills. His wife was murdered. Murdered, you see, it's an action, and it's solvable. Mills solved it.

You can't solve the slow death. Not really.

I think about how empty Mills is.

Am I empty?

An unidentifiable amount of time ago, Marla called me again, and she told me all about what happens at the new support groups she goes to, since I ruined the old ones for her. They were willing to rally behind her for the whole blowing my brains out show, and she only would've had to wait them out for six months or so, but she decided to just find new ones. A new church, with new temptations like Living With Angels, a group for those caring for severe dementia patients, and Recovery Road: a program for those trying to rebuild their lives after a loved one blew them up. She said, when I got out, we could both go to that one, and I could talk about Tyler, and she could talk about me, and we could have fun getting kicked out together.

Marla was always talking about that. When I got out.

I wasn't ever hearing any of it.

Mills, they've let up on him, finally, you can see his eyeballs aren't floating with all they've juiced him up on. He's watching me, back.

I wonder if he knows about Marla.

Would Tyler care?

Tyler had said, don't call this love.

Does it need to be?

When I get my voice back, I bury my thoughts on the subject and Marla and everything in a relentless campaign to needle Mills until he looks like a voodoo doll in a shitty tourist trap.

[mindfulcuppa]

Dipped in Foreign Lands; An Exercise in Image Storytelling

The beginning of an offering of consolidated thoughts, photos, slices of life in between rocks, more photos, and general going.

Preface.

With an elongated farewell, a month passed before I departed the country. This time wasn’t spent finding accomodation, or sorting bank cards as it probably should have been. No, instead there was lots of relaxing, music, surfing, watching the NBA playoffs and organising of the hoards gathering dust in my parents cupboards. It wasn't until the final 2 days that the urgency of packing life into a bag for the foreseeable future became a priority. 

It was done though, thanks to my loving housemates who provided a ‘jacpac’ for its potential to be filled. 2 jackets, 6 t-shirts, 2 brother-made garments, 2 shirts, 2.5 pairs of shoes, 2 cameras, a recording kit (regrettable now…), synthesiser (also marginal…), 400 leaves of paper, and a whole lot of other possessions that I probably didn’t need to pack. I felt sad to think of time apart from some things, but their absence will drift like the main themes of Toy Story (1998). 

I write this now sitting at a glass dining table enclosed in a small house-in-progress situated on a piece of land in Almagreira. There are dogs barking next door, and many flies darting around the area. It has been 2 weeks since leaving Aotearoa, so I would like to tell you how I have been, and how it’s being seen. Through the lens of a digital camera (and the occasional iPhone pic).

1 Melbourne

As early birds get worms, I had an early flight to Naarm on 01/06/2023. Melbourne waited a bounty of friends, sandwiches, musical sharing, long walks, and pizza. A social extension on a Friday saw our Mouthfull ‘Live at Capers’ residence with a jovial group of deejays providing a space for listening, dancing - and a great meeting point for people to come together over some Mastika & Moussaka worthy of a trophy made of pure 1 million carat gold.

Tyler and I would also have so much fun playing songs on the radio for breakfast over 2 days (links below for listening). For breakfast we ate toast with avocado and tomato, and for breakfast radio we listened to a mixture of jazz, folk, new wave, ambient, worldly music with a sprinkling of a few classic ballads of course.

Sleeping on the sofa was comfortable after some cushion amendments and some wine. We would spend our days walking and talking in Carlton North, relaxing and imagining. Our best meal together was from the Sri Lankan spot, Citrus, where you can find a banquet of vegan smorgasbord for $15.

Once the event was said and done, a recovery in the mornings light was aided with a walk to the felafel shop to meet again with Olive. Hearing of her news in between bites brought great happiness and love.

The following day, I met with Poppy. We were to find a place in Brunswick for a coffee; opting for some breakfast too at Kines. While we were there, I would think of Denzel for his obsession with the cafe. His voice would riddle through echoes from the past. After our breakfast, we walked up and down, crossing Sydney road 3 times, turning corners, and entering discount food stores to browse the obscure flavours of pringles and chocolate. The day was hot and the walk long. Navigating our bodies to Ceres we rummaged through bike parts and found entertainment in a cat in the chicken coup. It was a pleasant walk, except the moderate panic when I left my jacket on a park bench with all money and devices embezzled in the pockets.

After all the catching up, walking, wandering; I caught a train down to Torquay to visit an old friend, Isabelle. It was strange down there considering last time was around 5 years ago staying in a resort not dissimilar to vaudeville. However, we would go for a long walk to discover an amazing mosaic sundial (designed by artist Claire Gittings - whom I have no known lineage to - but am probably related somehow). 

With conversations over a cafe breakfast of my conviction against mining, we would enjoy each others' company in a true taurus manner. I would stay in her house near Marshall and meet her love, and we would have a Spanish soup next to a brazen colour changing fire in a brazier. A casket of red wine was ordered for $10 and delivered promptly, while it wasn't exactly even middle of the road it was a fine drink.

Finally, a pizza evening at Leonado's with Harrison & Andre. Some of the best pizza you will try, the Italian community in Carlton is a reliable source. Twas a welcome carbohydrate to carry forward into the nights digestion on what was to be my last night in Naarm. I bought Tyler a Toblerone to thank him for my stay, and the constant trickling of happy travel wishes would soon be finished with a final embrace.

And so it was, as it was, an extended layover in a city being taken over by sandwich shops and wine bars. It was to be the takeoff point to the north, an expansion to signify the changing of place from previous programming. The world outside was luminous and the air filled with a freshness known to mother nature so much more well than ceiling fans.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

[ilyasorokinn]

I posted 3,145 times in 2022

1,907 posts created (61%)

1,238 posts reblogged (39%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ilyasorokinn

@2manytabsopen

@rosesvioletshardy

@alextturcotte

@comphyjost

I tagged 3,021 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#taylor speaks - 637 posts

#mama i love him - 551 posts

#taylor answers - 535 posts

#ask taylor - 532 posts

#beverly hills 90 queue 10 - 464 posts

#nhl - 376 posts

#hockey - 373 posts

#nhl imagine - 314 posts

#hockey imagine - 313 posts

#hockey imagines - 306 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#also was totally planning on writing something for lunar new year but things got a bit hectic so maybe in a few days something’ll come out?

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

family man , tyler seguin

note, how did i come up with this idea? i got a tiktok on my fyp, an edit of ty from his gq interview. we all know the one. anyway, this fic is part of the "the seguin squad" series. check out this masterlist for more. pair, tyler seguin x reader summary, the five times tyler gushed about his family to the media. warnings, children/kids, mentions of murder (jokingly) word count, 2098 words

(gif not mine)

Tyler was a proud guy and he loved talking about his family at any chance he could. If prompted, he would proceed to gush, and even un-prompted he would gush about you and Rosie.

one. postgame, september 2017

Tyler was getting ready to leave for the arena. He really want to have you there with him but Rosie was still too small, so you settled for watching it on TV.

He kept, longingly, looking back at you and Rosie as he tied his tie, "Stop. Just get ready." You laughed, throwing something at him.

"Hey, violence!" He shouted.

You shook your head as you rocked Rosie. He eventually was ready and opened his arms. You placed Rosie in his arms and he smiled, "Goodbye, Roro. Be good for mom. Promise?"

He held out his pinky, which Rosie wrapped her tiny little hand around, "Good." He smiled and kissed her head.

He stared down at her for a few more minutes, not wanting to leave or let go, "You gotta go, Ty."

"No." He shook his head, "Wanna stay."

"I know." You frowned, "But you have you." He sighed but relented.

He grabbed his stuff and you followed him to the door. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned around you both and looked so sad you almost didn't want to send him away.

"We love you." You told him, leaning up and kissing his cheek.

"Love you, too." He kissed you. He then leaned down and kissed Rosie's head, "And I love you, too, sweet girl."

You watched from the comfort of your couch, dogs laying all around you, sporting your Seguin jerseys, Rosie wearing one of her own but it being a little too big on her.

"Stars Fans, this summer, our very own Tyler Seguin and his girlfriend Y/N welcomed a new family member to their clan. Please put your hands together and welcome Rosie to the Stars family." The arena erupted in cheers, from both sides.

You smiled, moving Rosie so she could see the screen. On the jumbotron, a photo taken after Rosie was born flashed up onto the big screen. It was after you got home from the hospital. His mom had taken it.

The camera flashed down to Tyler who flashed a teary smile to the fans. He nodded appreciatively and waved a hand. Fans on the other side banged their sticks against the side of the wall.

After the game, Tyler knew most, if not all, questions would be about Rosie and he was pumped.

"So, Tyler, tell us…" Right off the bat, Tyler knew exactly where the question was going, "How's dad-life?"

"Oh, man, I was waiting for this one." He got laughs, "It's the best thing in the entire world.

"You have a daughter, correct?"

"Yeah, Rosie."

"Is Rosie best friends with the dogs?"

"Oh, for sure. Before she was even born, they were the ones standing guard next to Y/N, my girlfriend." A smile found its way onto his face when he said the word 'girlfriend'.

“And is Rosie a daddy’s girl yet?”

“She’s a doggy’s girl.” He laughed, “They’re best friends.”

“That’s so sweet.”

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503 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

#4

can i request “never letting go” hug prompt with joe burrow? ☺️

16. "'not wanting to let go' hugs" (from this prompt list)

tw: one curse word (ass)

whenever joe would go away on long road trips, it was a whole thing. you would spend the day before together, doing whatever you two wanted, and would cherish every moment together.

the morning before the roadie, you were both awoken by your dog, beau a toller. beau hopped onto your bed and started licking your faces.

"ugh, beau." joe groaned, pushing the dog's face away from his.

beau turned his attention to you, "silly boy." you giggled, scratching his head.

clearly, you were two different parents.

"come on, is it potty time?" you began to get up but were pulled back into bed by joe, "beau, save me." you hollered with a laugh.

the dog hopped back onto the bed and began barking at joe and trying to free you, "geez, i guess we know who your favorite parent is."

"he's protective of his mama." you laughed, unwrapping joe's arm from around your waist, and walking with beau out to the garden where he could do his business.

once he was done, you made your way back inside and headed to the kitchen so beau could have his post-bathroom treat. maybe you spoiled him a little.

"so, it was your turn to plan out joe and y/n day, what'd you plan?" you asked as you started making your coffee.

"well, i had us sleeping for another hour, but i guess we'll have to change some things around." joe looked down at beau, whose tail was wagging and he looked up at his dad happily.

"oh, come on. you can't be mad at him. he's too cute." you cooed, bending down and kissing beau's nose.

"anyways..." joe grabbed your attention, "we were gonna have a nice breakfast, prepared by moi. then we were gonna go to colour me mine..."

"awh." you smiled, "that's so cute."

"yeah, yeah, i know. i'm so cute and sentimental, moving on." he cut you off. you rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, "then we're gonna have lunch at that cute little cafe you like. then we're gonna come home and rewatch wandavision or the falcon and the winter soldier or whatever show you want to watch."

"you'd rewatch it with me?"

"of course, but only if we get to watch one of my shows next time."

"promise." you smiled, linking pinkies with him.

"and to end the night, i booked a reservation at your favorite restaurant."

"wow, you really went all out. i'm gonna have to think extra hard next time." you laughed.

joe did everything he could to make you smile and laugh. making stupid dad jokes or singing loudly off tune.

as you walked through the park near the restaurant, he had his arm thrown over your shoulders, occasionally pressing kisses to your head.

"did you have fun today?" he asked.

"i did." you smiled as you stopped under the gazebo.

"i'm glad." he hummed.

"i don't want you to leave me tomorrow." you pouted.

"i don't want to leave either." he pulled you into his arms, "but you'll have beau, and he loves you, almost as much, if not more than me."

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538 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

#3

just like dad , rooster

note, this is my application to join top gun tumblr. so.... slay! anyways, i love rooster as a dad and might make this a little au family series. haven't thought that far into the future. if people enjoy this, lmk if you want to see a little family series. another note, i promise all my fics aren't dad content. i have three other fics in my drafts (all top gun related) that aren't dad content. pair, bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader summary, bradley left for a mission two days ago, and his daughter, jamie, misses him. so y/n helps take her mind off it. warnings, children word count, 849 words (shorty but a goodie)

(gif not mine)

Bradley had only been gone on his mission for 2 days but you could tell that Jamie was taking it hard. She always did whenever he went away. It wasn't even a long mission, but it always felt like an eternity to Jamie in her 4-year-old brain.

"When's daddy coming home?" Jamie had been asking that question all morning.

"In two days." You answered as you set a plate of fruit in front of her.

"That's so far away." She whined, picking at the strawberries on her plate.

You watched her eat her breakfast before a thought popped into your head, "I have an idea." Once she was done eating breakfast, you both got ready and headed for the mall.

"Do you know what that says?" You asked Jamie as you approached the store. She shook her head, but her eyes were drawn to all the colorful bears lining the walls of the store.

"Bears." She pointed.

"Yeah." You set her down and let her run around, looking at all the bears. When she finally picked out a bear, you moved over to the sound station.

You played her a couple voicemails that Rooster had left and she finally made up her mind after listening to all of them, "Hi, Jamie-Jam! Daddy misses you, and I'll be home real soon. I love you, and don't forget to give mommy a big kiss for me."

She stuffed it, gave the heart a big kiss, then placed it inside the back of the bear. After getting him all sewed up, she wandered around the clothing area. Lots of accessories for her new bear caught her attention, but when she saw the pair of sunglasses, her eyes went wide, and she made an immediate beeline over to them.

You couldn't help but laugh as she passed up the pair of pink sunglasses, that you knew would match the pair she had at home, in favor of the aviators.

After finding the accessories, you made your way over to the name station, "What do you want to name your bear?" She pursed her lips and thought about it for a second.

"Goose." She answered and your heart melted.

"All right, Goose it is." You nodded, typing it into the computer.

-

Two days after getting Goose, Rooster was walking up the pathway towards your house, a smile gracing his lips as he spotted the sign you always put up for him when he got back from missions.

He used his key and before he could even push open the door, Jamie was throwing the door open and greeting him with a big squeal, "Daddy!"

"Hi, baby!" He picked her up and spun her around, "Come on, let's go inside." He carried both Jamie and his bag inside. Jamie talked his ear off the entire time as he carried her inside and towards the dining table.

You popped out of the kitchen, where you were making a mid-day snack for you and Jamie before your husband came through the doors, and locked eyes with Rooster, smiling as he listened to everything Jamie told him, not taking his eyes off her for a minute.

"Hey, Jam?" You grabbed her attention, "Want to go show daddy your new friend?" Jamie nodded eagerly, hopped off her dad's lap, and ran to her room.

He pushed his chair out, letting you take residence on one of his legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist.

"How was it?" You asked, playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

He hummed, "Not too bad. Went quicker than we thought it would."

"Hmm, explains why you're home earlier."

"It's only a couple hours."

"Still." You shrugged. Right before you could say anything else, Jamie came running back in, holding Goose in her arms. You pushed yourself off his lap and let Jamie take your place. She showed her dad the bear, who also let out a laugh when he saw the sunglasses.

"Look at this." He looked at the bear, taking it all in.

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580 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

#2

like the movies , hangman

note, the titles comes from all the cheesy romance books i read and romcoms. i watch. you might see tropes you recognize. with. it is inspired by books and movies, things might move faster than they do in real life. if you don't like that, don't read this. pair, jake "hangman" seresin x reader summary, after being left at the altar, y/n gets in her car and drives. with no destination in mind, she eventually ends up in front of a bar in san diego. she garners everyone's attention the moment she walks through the doors, one of those people being hangman. warnings, cursing, alcohol consumption (all legal), jerk former fiances word count, 4579 words

(gif not mine)

"I'm sorry, he's gone." Those were the words that kept replaying over and over in your head. He wasn't dead, but he might as well be.

The words, "He's gone" kept playing over and over in your head, and it wasn't like you wanted to keep thinking about it, you were driving in silence, left alone with nothing but your thoughts. After almost half an hour on the road, you finally reached for the radio nozzle and turned it on.

You flipped through the channels, trying to find one that wasn't playing some kind of love song, and ended up on a station that played nothing but Christmas music, and even then there were some Christmas love songs that hurt more than the actual love song.

After driving all afternoon with no breaks, you were somehow still awake and moving, only running on a couple cups of crappy coffee and a bagel from that morning, you ended up at a bar.

You pushed open the bar doors, paying no mind to all the eyes that were immediately drawn to you. You plopped down on a barstool and waited for the bartender to come over and take your order.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked, her eyes warm and inviting.

"Something strong." She smiled and grabbed a glass, pouring you a shot of something.

The question she was about to ask quickly died on her lips after she watched you down the shot, "That bad, huh?"

"The guy I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with left me at the altar. I've been driving since 2 in the afternoon, and it's..." You looked up at the clock, "10, so I've had a pretty shit day." You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on the ring still on your finger.

As you continued to stare at it, the more you wanted it off. You didn't know why it took you so long to take it off, but when you did it almost felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

"You know what? This rounds on me." The woman smiled, "I'm Penny."

"Y/N." You smiled. She was called away by another customer but offered you another smile before making her way over to the man.

"White dress? Don't tell me you got a groom at home waitin' for you?" You turned around to match a face to the voice. You were fully expecting a jerky-looking guy but were surprised to find a man in service khakis, a pilot, standing behind you.

"Nope." You answered with a simple shake of your head.

"I gotta say, this is very Friends-like.” He commented, “Girl runs into a bar wearing a wedding dress.”

“She ran into a cafe.” You corrected.

“Potato-Potato.” He rolled his eyes, “Can I ask why you’re in a bar in a wedding dress? I know there's a story there."

"Not much to talk about." You shrugged.

"There's always a story."

"Oh, there's a story, just not a very interesting one." You tried to brush it off, "What's your name?" You attempted to change the subject.

"Hangman." He flashed you an almost cocky smile.

"Hangman?"

"It's my callsign." The smirk didn't once fall from his face as he held out his hand, "What's your name?"

"Y/N." You shook his hand.

-

The same ritual continued for the next couple of nights. You would sit at the bar, drinking only one drink, paying but not leaving until closing.

If you left right after you finished your drink, you would be stuck going back to the empty hotel room with nothing but your thoughts, and the thought of that was almost as scary as the situation you were in at that very moment. Alone and trying to navigate your way through this new life alone.

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595 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

okay hear me out dad!joe being super cute with his kid

okay, but that sounds so cute!! tagging @idblowburrow just cause.

tw: children, dad!joe, mentions of pregnancy (like once)

happy valentine's day from me and my valentine ilya sorokin &lt;3

everything joe did, levi wanted to do too. levi burrow was his father's little shadow. whenever joe would have to go away on a long roadie, levi would sleep in his burrow jersey every night and beg to listen to the old voicemail joe had left on your phone when you were pregnant.

joe was set to come home from a long road trip, and instead of waiting for him at home, you were gonna pick him up from the airport.

levi, early in the morning, walked into your room and climbed into your bed. he poked you in the face to wake you up. you jumped away, "huh? what're you doing here, levi? what's wrong, bud?"

"where's daddy?" he asked, holding his little tiger stuffed animal to his chest.

"we're gonna pick him up after lunch." he pouted, and shook his head, "do you want to go to the park today?" that seemed to make him happy, so you went on with your day.

after eating grilled cheese sandwiches, you got levi into his car seat and drove to the airport, playing levi's favorite new song from encanto.

you got out of the car and parked in the private lot. levi busied himself with his stuffed tiger. you both heard the plane land, which was when levi started to get excited.

he began kicking his feet and squealing, "okay, okay, stay still. we're gonna see him." you laughed, unbuckling him from his car seat.

within 10 minutes, the team was unloading off the plane and grabbing their luggage, "daddy!" levi squealed, catching joe's attention.

joe's face immediately lit up as he quickly grabbed his suitcase and made his way over to you. you set levi on the ground and watched him run into his father's open arms.

"there's my man." joe grinned, picking levi up and spinning him around, before peppering his face with kisses, "were you good for mom?"

he nodded his head as joe picked up his bag and headed over to you, levi propped on his hip while his other hand held his bag.

he walked up to you and smiled happily, "hi." you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"hi." he dropped his bag and wrapped his arm around your waist, "missed you." he hummed.

"missed you, too." you smiled, "but let's get home. levi's been waiting all day to play with you." you grabbed his bag and lifted it into the trunk while joe buckled levi, who was rambling about his week to his father, into his car seat.

although somethings didn't make sense, the smile on joe's face was enough to tell anyone he was happy right where he was.

702 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

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