#watch johnson fly!

[decimadragonoid]

Xander, how're you so tall? Most X-Nauts are so small, you could practically throw them like a football!

We don't play football. We play "cannon ball!"

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* Paper Mario belongs to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

* Xander, Min T., and new askbox by DecimaDragonoid.

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(Credit for height chart template goes to Chamodile.)

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Got some questions or comments? Please leave your comments, questions, interactions, and feedback in my inbox!

[sebdoesnothing]

watched knives out again in prep for glass onion and if you have had any problem with rian johnsons previous works at all give benoir blanc another watch. by all laws human natural and divine you will be compelled to forgive him

[manic-pixie-dick-girl]

Just learned Rian Johnson - yeah the Knives Out and Last Jedi guy - directed three Breaking Bad episodes. One was 'Fly', unquestionably the most controversial/hated episode in the series. Another was 'Ozymandias', arguably the most loved episode of the whole show. The absolute range on this man. He can do anything.

[unamused-boss]

The Player and The Cheerleader

Billy Hargrove x Cheerleader Reader

Summary: All Billy thinks cheerleading is that's it's just flips and splits. The view changes when he has a run in with a certain Hawkins High School cheerleader.

...........................................................................

Billy didn't care for anyone by any means. Either it be in Indiana or California. If he doesn't see you as someone worth his time then he didn't talk to you or give you the time of day. One of those groups in specific were cheerleaders. From his point of view they were only pretty girls to look at, that's pretty much how everyone treated the cheerleader at this point. Pretty things to look at.

The cheerleaders sometimes had to share the gym with the basketball team. Which did peeve some the guys on the team but as long as the cheerleaders were pretty they could handle it. But there was one odd ball on the cheer team, the captain. Always mouthing off the players when they got to close to the cheerleaders or a ball got to close to hitting one of them.

"Hey! Shit for brains!" A voice can be heard from then other side of the gym. "I thought the point of the game was to get the ball in the basket?!"

"Jeezu..." Tommy huffed. "Can you seriously be pissed about the same thing every time? It's just a ball." He answered to you. Clearly tired of your constant shouting at the basketball team when a ball would go the wrong way.

"And it's just balls between your legs, and they can just as easily deflate." You sassed back. To Billy, it was almost comical to watch. You with the tough guy act, puffing up your chest to a dude way taller than you with colorful pompoms in each hand on your hips.

"What a bitch..." Tommy huffed again.

"Oh get over it." Billy snapped. "What's captain pompoms gonna do?" He laughed at his own statement. Like said before he found the whole conversation comical-

WHAM!

A basketball went flying right into Billy Hargroves head. He snapped his head around to see the who had the nerve to hit him. His eyes met with captain pompoms. The two had a stare off. That's what it felt like for the rest of practice. The two practically eyeing each other the entire time.

After that stunt was over, after constant staring at one another, Billy had only one reaction in mind. A big one.

The next day followed. Billy knew where he could cut you off and corner you, in-between Mr. Johnson's chemistry class and Mrs. Shoffer's English literature class. It happened fast no one could react to it, actually you doubt anyone saw it happen. What you thought was just another normal day of school turned out to be more than that. A harsh hold took your arm, taking you away from the crowd into the more secluded part of the hall. Where you came face to face with a fuming Billy. His jaw was clenched and eyes held anger.

"What, you think you're real funny for the shit you pulled yesterday?" He interrogated. "Try it again see what fuckin happens..." His threats did not stop. Well his empty threats. As much as you are terrified of what he could do, you knew he'd never act on them. Your brave front was standing strong. Taking in every threat, comment, and remark he could throw at you. To get a reaction, if you were a guy you would have answered with your fists at his first remark. But you are not. You are you. You knew the exact thing that would make him even more angry.

" You are nothing but scuff on the gym floor, and that's all you will be."

Billy did not like that one bit. Who does this bitch think she is? His fist rose into the air, readying to strike. The force came down, you felt the air brush past your face, to only make contact with a metal locker. The sound ricocheted through the hall.

You open up your eyes. Now, again, staring at him. Anger was not held in his eyes anymore. If was fear and sadness, to you it was peculiar expression to see on his face. The actions that just happened finally caught up to you, you inhale deeply not knowing you stopped breathing. Everything caught up to you.

SLAP! Your hand came down, striking Billy Hargrove in the face. Hard enough to leave a mark. Not knowing that one had just been healed from another hand. "What the hell is your problem?" You yelled, agitated. "God, you fuckin creep." You make your way back to your class leaving Billy stunned. He didn't know what to do. He has never had someone react to him like that before. It intrigued him. He had an interest in you now.

After that encounter Billy made it his mission yo agitate you as much as possible. I mean, how else are you supposed to show someone you like them. From poking you with a pencil in class, purposefully missing the hoop so the ball bounces into your direction, anything at all just so you could look at him. He was succeeding and he was royally pissing you off. Until on fateful autumn day, everyone had gone home for the day. Except for the extracurriculars that took place after school. Two of those being basketball and cheer practice. Just as the practices were about to start, Billy took notice that you weren't with the cheer team. Which he thought was odd, but instead he chose to go smoke a cigarette before practice. He made his way to the small alley like way that was outside the gym that lead to the track field. And the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. there you stood cheer practice outfit and all with a lit cigarette hanging from your lip.

"I thought cheerleaders didn't smoke?" Billy joked to you, giving you his famous smirk.

"And I thought shit stayed in toilets, but I guess I was wrong since you're here." You said taking a huff of your cig.

"Damn, always ready with a comeback are you?" Billy said, lighting his cigarette.

"Why are you messing with me Hargrove?"

"Ouch, last name basis now sweets?"

"Shut up." You won't deny it, that dumb nickname that he started calling you grew on you. "Is this because of me smacking you?"

"No."

"Was it me hitting you with a basketball?"

"No." He said blankly again.

"Then what is it?"

Billy took a huff of his cigarette then looked you in your eyes. No hate or anger, something you can only describe as adoration.

"I find you interesting." Was his only answer.

"What?" you were confused by this answer. What was so interesting about you that made Billy intrigued. " Your like curious about me or something?"

"Exactly."

"You know curiosity killed the cat, Hargrove." You sassed.

"And satisfaction brought it back, and I am not satisfied yet so get used to me sweets." He said taking his cig a stomping it out onto the ground walking away.

You grumbled at his response, inhaling the last of your cigarette with blushing cheeks. Stomping out your cigarette then making your way into practice. 'Why does this asswipe make me blush'.

...........................................................................

Weeks of this teasing have gone by. Everyday Billy would find a new way to make you mad, blush, or embarrassed to get a reaction out of you. He claimed "It's because you so cute." Which made you blush even more. Gosh, you couldn't stand half of the guys at this school. Why was Billy the only one making you feel this way?

Truth be told, Billy had seen you around way before he had met you. How you walk down the hall with your head held high, looking away in disgust at the "popular" kids, over all not conforming to what a cheerleader is by Hawkins view point. You fought, yelled, got in people faces. Billy love all of it, it made him excited. Excited to talk to you and ask you questions, even ones you deem are stupid. All he wanted to do was to be around you. Damn, he loved it in a way.

Practice had ended for the day leading off into the weekend. A light rain pour had come down, everyone else had a ride to get them home. Everyone except you, well you did but he was running very late. Billy made his way outside to find you standing in the walk way waiting to be picked up. Cigarette hanging from your mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Billy asked.

"Waiting." You simply put.

"Do you want a ride?" He asked.

"No, I have a ride." You said. "But he's running late."

"What your boyfriend?" Billy said, the words had jealousy behind them.

"No." You sighed. "My brother you dipshit."

"oh..." He sighed. A silence fell between you two. Not uncomfortable, but nice enough for you two to be around each other. But Billy had something building in his stomach, a nervous feeling. He hated it. He needed to tell you something.

"Hey." He called to you, you turn your head to face him. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened."

"What?" You were confused by what he just said.

"I said I'm sorry, did you not hear me?" Billy said, He turned his body to face you. "I said I'm sorry." You just stood there silent. Still taking in the fact he is saying sorry. "I'm sorry that I almost punched you into a locker. I realized I was acting like someone I didn't want to be, and you calling me on my shit. It made me look at you differently. I noticed more about you. How you always make sure the other cheerleaders are okay, how you genuinely care about the people you have around you, and you don't take any shit. And- shit I'm bad at this." He's now embarrassed by everything he just said. Heat rises to his cheeks and ears.

You step toward him, placing your hand on his arm. "I thought you were doing pretty well." You smiled, comforting him in a way. He just looked at you. You never smiled at him directly but now that your smile was intended for him. 'damn' He wants you to smile at him all the time.

"Do you want to go on a date?" He asked straight out. You were shocked by his forwardness, but not entirely surprised.

"You want to go on a date with me?"

"Hell yeah, why wouldn't I?" He made it seem like you were speaking a different language. "Listen one date is all I ask, her if you still think I'm a piece of shit I'll stop everything that I'm doing."

Your smile grew even wider. "I would love to go on a date with you Billy."

"Dang, back on first name basis already? Looks like I'm getting a second date already." He joked to you, in turn caused you to laugh.

For the remainder of your time you and Billy talked till you had been picked up. You both talked about anything and everything. It was pure bliss, you loved every second of it. You both were abruptly interrupted by the honking of your brothers car.mYou said your goodbyes to make your way to the car. The smile that held your face did not drop. I didn't drop on Billy's either, when getting home Max found it incredibly disturbing to see her step brother so giddy.

That following night Billy arrived to your house to take you on your promised date. Which one date turned into another and another and another. Till it reached throughout the whole school that Billy Hargrove and the cheer captain were finally official. With many guys questioning Billy as to why he picked you out of everyone, to which he said if they insulted you again he had no problem with dealing with them himself. Girls just snuffed their noses up to you since you now made Billy officially off the market. Not like you cared, he's your boyfriend now and you have him all to yourself. So you could say everything did work out in the end. You and Billy have each other.

"So I guess we have Tommy to thank since he is the reason we met?" You joked.

"Hell no, I would have went after you even if you didn't hit me with that basket ball." He smirk.

"Jeez, you are something Billy." You smiled, leaning into him to seal your lips in a kiss. Yeah, nothing could beat this.

..........................................................................

[nonotnolan]

Jock Cock, Part 1

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Adam Johnson, next year's star quarterback and this year's bane of my existence, looked up at me with his baby blue eyes. If he was trying to look small and unintimidating, it would have worked better without carrying 200+ pounds of muscle on a six foot frame.

Well, if he wanted to be melodramatic, two could play that game. "You know full well why I called you here, Adam." I thumped the stack of papers on my desk for emphasis. "You've been failing ECON 105 all semester, but suddenly you can score an 83% on the final exam? It's enough to get you D- in this class. It's not a perfect score, but it's still enough for you to avoid academic probation."

His face flashed with a brief moment of irritation before setting back into his normal, casual stupor. "Well, I wasn't studying before, and now I did. It's not like I scored all that great... sir."

"We both know that you don't know what 'sustainability' means, Adam. You tried to fly under the radar, you didn't cheat your way into a 100%... but it's still cheating. We both know that academic misconduct is a serious crime." I tried my best to sound stern and disappointed, but it was hard to be angry at a face this sexy.

Adam just laughed at me. "And if you could prove it, you wouldn't be calling me into a private meeting, would you?" He leaned back into a shit-eating grin, displaying his dazzling white teeth. This asshole had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"I checked every single essay!" I said, pounding the stack of papers once again. "Every essay, in every single TA's session of this class. You didn't plagiarize... but we both know this isn't your style of writing. And we watched you like a hawk during the exam itself, so you didn't cheat that way, either."

Adam leaned close into my face. "Professor Michaels has no idea that you called me in here, does he? You're just a Teaching Assistant on a power trip, and it's all because you can't stand knowing how I did it." He was right, and I hated him for it. Worse, when he stood this close to me, I could smell the musk of his body.

"Tell you what," he added, pulling off his tank top to reveal a set of firm abs. "You let me get away with this... sign off on my scores, whatever you need to do... and I'll let you live out one of your deepest, darkest fantasies." He struck a pose, showing off both his rippling muscles and his hairy pits. "We both know that you'll never get jock cock any other way. Come on, Teach. You want this."

Was I really that easy to read? "I-- I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Look, if you're going to stick to your lie about studying, then you can just leave. I don't... there's no need to insult my moral character. You're a student, Adam."

He responded by leaning in close to me, and placing his hand on top of my bulge. "Your body betrays you," he whispered, letting his fingers massage my inner thigh. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not your student. Adam and I swapped bodies so that I could take all of his final exams."

"I... yes, well..." That was the last thing I expected him to say, but it would explain a lot if it were true, somehow. It seemed much more likely than a desirable athlete like Adam coming onto me, at the very least.

"Be that as it may," I said, grabbing his hand and moving it away before my cock started leaking though my slacks, "that body still belongs to one of my students. And I still have meetings to attend today, so if we're done here..."

Adam, or the stranger in Adam's body, just laughed at me. "You're the one who wanted to have this meeting, remember? But that's fine, I know when I'm not wanted. But here's the thing-- once you submit grades at end of day, Adam's not your student anymore." He started typing something on his phone. "And honestly, I expected this from you. You're so uptight. Good thing you gave everyone your cell phone number on the syllabus at the start of the year. So if you change your mind... now you can have Adam's number, and a bonus pic from me."

"I know you don't know the real me, but trust me Kevin-- I've wanted to plow that uptight hole of your for months. And in this body, I've actually got a shot at it." The stranger slapped my ass before I could react, and swaggered out of the room. Whoever was inside of Adam's body, they knew my first name.

I looked at the retreating wall of shoulder muscles, and down at the teasing bathroom selfie the stranger sent to me. God help me, I was only human. And he was right-- how else was I going to get jock cock? He wasn't a student, not really, and that's what mattered. "You win. Tonight at 8pm, my place. Bring lube."

Check out Part 2 here. Check out Part 3 here.

[sunsetchicane]

I love your post card series! Could I request Oscar with rodeo reader where they’re penpals and Oscar subscribes to the cowboy channel (that’s actually what it’s called) to watch his penpal and rodeo reader starts to watch f1 and then she gets invited to Austin?

love letters [OP81]

oscar piastri x fem!barrel racer!reader [from southern US]

word count: 4.2k

summary: The one where you meet a certain racing driver as you're both starting your careers and you decide to keep in touch.

warnings: fluff, fluff, oh and a little more fluff! angst maybe if you squint and tilt your head

author's note: To my dearest anon, this is MY love letter to YOU. Thank you for requesting this and letting me write about the rodeo; it brought me back to when I was just a little girl and was oddly healing?? Sorry for being a sap lol! I hope this is to your liking :) Feedback, comments, reposts, and likes are always appreciated!!! Peace and love babes. [xoxo elle]

“Speed. Agility. Determination. This barrel racing pair is one for the ages and the crowd here today knows it,” Janie Johnson says, a bright smile on her face while she stares down the barrel of the camera.

She turns her attention over shoulder when the crowd’s cheers hit a crescendo. You’ve just rode out into the arena, the American flag streaming by your side while you gallop around. Chants and cheers of your name fly from the mouths of onlookers, swallowing everything into a thunderous roar. For this moment, the entire world is yours. The other top riders follow you out into the dirt of the arena, hands waving and smiles flashing. There’s nothing quite like being at the rodeo. 

“And there she is, our winner today and her beautiful horse, Sweet Tea,” Janie says, unable to look away from the way you and your horse run the perimeter. You take your time, soaking up the glory of another win. 

You fly through your post-race duties, one thought constant in your mind: you have to write your letter to Oscar. It’s sort of a silly tradition, but you’ve been doing it for ages. After a rodeo weekend or a race weekend for him, you both would write each other a letter explaining everything in careful detail. You loved it. Even though the information about the rodeo and the race would be released ages before the letters arrived in your respective mailboxes, it was still amazing to hear about things from his perspective and explain your’s to him.

So, once everything is loaded up and you’re back on the road, you lean yourself back in your seat with a pen and pad of paper in your lap trying to put everything you’re feeling into words. Though your sports were different in a lot of ways, there were similarities that pulled the two of you together. The pressure, the adrenaline, the rush of a win. It’s what made you two so close even though there were vast oceans separating you. 

As you write, you can’t help but reminisce on the first time you ever wrote one of these letters. It was years ago, just as you started pro barrel racing. It was a rodeo early in the season. You were dressed and ready for your pool. Sweet Tea was edgy and nervous and so were you. You were the rookie pair that year, just a five year old horse and an 18 year old jockey. You remember that you felt way in over your head that day as you watched the vets take on the arena. 

To ease both of your nerves, you led Sweet Tea on a walk. Whispering to her with your head low, you didn’t even notice the group walk up in front of you. The voice of your manager made you tip your head up, looking at him under the brim of your hat. He smiled at you and introduced you to a group of young, thin, pale looking boys. He explained that they were from a Formula 3 team called Prema. You’d never heard of Formula anything before.

Your manager led the group of boys away after some small talk. They were nice enough, but you didn’t need any distractions. Just as the last of the boys followed your manager to your stalls, you thought you were free to go about walking Sweet Tea again.

“What’s your horse's name?” An unfamiliar voice with an unfamiliar accent said. You don’t get much for foreign accents at the rodeo, so it took you by surprise. Your eyes met his brown ones. His brown hair was cut short on the sides and the top drooped down over his forehead. He donned a white t-shirt that displayed the word “PREMA” in red, coupled with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers. It was the first of the few times that you’d seen Oscar Piastri in person. The memory lives clear and bright in your mind.

“Sweet Tea,” you answered him in a clipped voice. You were still uppity about your impending race and Oscar was quickly becoming a distraction. 

“Sweet Tea,” he echoed while taking a few steps closer. Tightening your grip on her reins, you waited for her to spook. 

“Wait-” you began to warn Oscar as he crept in closer. But you were swiftly cut off when all Sweet Tea did was bray and huff at him. You were nothing short of shocked. She rarely took to anyone, but she seemed to immediately like him. It made you curious.

“You can pet her, if you want,” you encouraged him while continuing to gauge Sweet’s reaction. Together, the two of you stroked the soft brown of her coat. You could tell that her mood was suddenly a lot sunnier, the moodiness exiting her body as you and Oscar brushed your hands over her.

“What’s your name?” you asked after a while. 

“Oscar,” he replied, his eyes darting up to meet yours over Sweet Tea’s head. For a moment, you studied his face. He looked perfectly calm, peaceful even, in the intense atmosphere that surrounded you. It didn’t surprise you that Oscar’s tranquil nature helped to set Sweet’s nerves at ease. His demeanor was even helping you. 

“She likes you,” you said, giving him a small smile while you dragged your hand over your horse’s nose.

“I hope so,” he said, his eyes flicking from you to Sweet and then back up. 

Everything after that was history.

You and Sweet Tea ran better than you ever had, placing in the top three. It was your best result yet and set you up for success for the rest of the weekend. You saw Oscar every day of the rodeo. He would stop by to say hello to you and Sweet Tea while you were prepping for a race or catch you after your pool. Awkward teenage conversation fell away quickly, giving way to long, easy conversations. 

On Sunday, you and Sweet Tea took it all. It was a huge payday which would boost the rest of your season. You were on cloud nine. Oscar walked with you while you led your horse back to the trailer. Back and forth you talked about the race and how it felt. You were so glad to have someone to talk to about all this. You used to talk to your grandpa about everything, dissecting the race and your rides with him. He’s the one who taught you how to race. But, he died shortly before the season started. He never got to watch you race at this level and you didn’t have him to talk to anymore.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you said while turning away and adjusting your hat, suddenly embarrassed at yourself. Oscar wasn’t a rodeo kid. He probably didn’t care how tight your turns around the barrels were or how responsive Sweet was today. 

“No,” he said, quickly cutting you off. “It’s alright. I like to listen.”

Not convinced, you stayed silent.

“It sounds a lot like how I feel when I race, you know. So, I get it,” he admitted then, his shoulders coming up into a shrug. You eyed him from under your hat, glad for the way the wide brim covered most of your face.

“I used to talk to my grandpa about this stuff,” the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. If it would have been anyone else, you would have died from embarrassment. But, Oscar just blinked at you and waited patiently for you to elaborate.

“You remind me of him,” as you said it, you want to punch yourself in the face. You really went two embarrassing moments for two that day.

“Thank you?” he said, a small chuckle coating his words. He smiled at you so warmly that it thawed the icy shame in your chest slightly. 

“I just mean that,” you tried to salvage what you thought was meant to be a compliment but just came out really weird. “You’re a good listener, like him.”

Oscar nodded, his small smile still on his lips. His perpetually tired-looking eyes were soft and kind while he watched you walk your horse. You believe that it was in that moment that you became friends, good friends.

Coming up on your trailer, you slowed your pace, wanting to prolong your last moments with your new friend. Feelings that had been growing steadily over the weekend were at their peak, downing you in an intense feeling of longing. If you could do anything to never let him leave your side ever again, you would do it. In a heartbeat. In the span of just a few days, you’d grown so close that it felt like there’d never been a time where you didn’t know him. Friendly affection wasn’t an apt description of what passed between the two of you. A four letter word danced around in your teenage mind. But you couldn’t say that to him. You’d only known him for 72 hours. 

“We leave tonight,” Oscar said then, shoving the toe of his shoe into the grass. You leaned into Sweet Tea, stroking her neck and avoiding looking at your brand new best friend–your brand new obsession. Emotion roared like a tide inside of you, threatening to spill out from your eyes in tears and from your mouth in a confession. 

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” your voice was thick with your southern accent. It always got heavier when you were emotional.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Your eyes flicked to his then, taking in the soft look that graced his features. He seemed so sure of his words. It placed a little peace in you to know that he was just as intent on not letting go of the relationship you’d built as you were.

“Can I write to you?” you asked suddenly, not sure why this is the way you wanted to keep in contact with him. There was something inside of you that longed to write to him. Handwritten letters seemed deeply personal, intentional, everything that you wanted to convey to him. 

“Write…like letters?” he asked, his small smile turning into an amused grin. Instead of becoming embarrassed at your suggestion, you held firm. Nodding at his question, you sent him a small smile. He shook his head a little and asked for your phone. You handed it to him and he typed in his contact, only filling out the address line and his name. 

Once your phone was back in your possession, he said a goodbye to Sweet Tea while stroking her nose lovingly. She whinnied at his touch, tossing her head affectionately. Then he turned his attention to you, he stepped closer than he ever had. Invading your air, you thought he might kiss you. Your heart stopped for a moment, teenage love sending sparks across your eyes. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. Your arms slung easily over his shoulders, holding him close. You relished the feeling of his chest against yours, his breath against the back of your neck. 

That’s the feeling that you’ve held onto over the last four years. It’s the feeling you hold close on lonely nights on the road. It’s the feeling you remember every time you pen a letter to your closest friend, wishing that you could’ve had the chance to be something more.

Over the years you’ve kept up with Formula racing, just for the sake of watching Oscar. Though, you’ve started to become quite the fan. Especially now, as Oscar is tearing it up for McLaren. He’s had an exceptional season. In his faithful letters, he writes in his subdued way about how thrilled he is about this season. His humility never fails to make you smile. It’s one of the things that makes him Oscar. 

He also writes about watching you on the Cowboy Channel whenever he can. You’re always surprised and warmed when he includes details of your race or compliments your skills. His words, though concise, are eloquent in their own way. Whenever you read his letters, you can hear his voice in your head.

So, as you wrap up your letter, you’re already anticipating his response. Your eyes drift to the window once you’ve tucked everything away. The familiar rolling fields of perfectly parallel rows of crops lull you into a sleepy trance. Dreams of seeing Oscar again flood your mind when your eyes slide closed and fall comfortably asleep.

The final turn into your gravel driveway pulls you from your nap. You’d slept for nearly the entire drive. You’re warm from sleep, your eyes still heavy but your body feeling refreshed after a long weekend. 

You and your small team unload the horses and the equipment quickly, desperate to return to your respective homes for a meal and your own bed. There’s nothing quite like returning to the ranch after a rodeo weekend. As you sling up your last saddle, you wonder if Oscar feels that way about home after a race weekend. You make a mental note to ask him about it in your next letter.

Before heading into your home, you run out to the mailbox and place your letter in it. Flipping the red flag of your mailbox up and walking away, you’re already anxiously awaiting his response. 

Instead of dwelling on your letter and Oscar, which will definitely send you into an anxious tizzy, you decide to catch up on a couple of work related things to keep yourself distracted. Snuggled cozily into your bed after a long shower, you pull out your laptop and open your email. There are a dozen different unread emails from rodeo crews, journalists, and ranch staff. However, one unfamiliar sender catches your eye.

It’s from McLaren.

Ignoring everything else for the moment being, you rush to open the email. Rarely have you received emails from the McLaren F1 team. Every once in a while, they send you PR gifts or things of the like because of your connection with Oscar. But this one looks different. It’s more personal than that.

When your eyes read the contents of the document attached to the email, you nearly fall off your bed. It’s an official invitation from the McLaren team to join them as a guest for the Grand Prix in Austin the following week. Slack jawed, you mindlessly follow the directions on how to accept the offer. Nothing matters right now except for this.

After four years, you’re finally going to see Oscar again.

—

Walking onto the Paddock, you feel oddly at home. The hustle and bustle of a race weekend reminds you of your weekends at the rodeo. Team members and journalists and officials stream around you, everyone hellbent and on a mission. You’re swallowed into the excitement of it all, fading into just another body in the masses. It brings you peace that you weren’t sure you were going to find here. 

“Miss?” a voice says from just behind you. Narrowing your attention to them, you turn around quickly. A small girl with bright blonde hair sends you a quick smile. She’s adorned with the bright papaya of McLaren. Her eyes drag from your hat-covered head to your boot-clad feet. Your light colored Wranglers hug your curves and flair out over your boots. A matching blazer covers your shoulders and the white button-up with the first few buttons undone. The look is complete by a dark orange, silk bandana tied loosely to one of your belt loops. You know you look like the epitome of country, but it was all intentional. 

The McLaren employee confirms who you are before offering to lead you to the garage. Swallowing hard, you trail behind her, cutting your way through the sea of people. Nerves dance around in your stomach. You feel like you’re back on top of Sweet Tea the day you met Oscar, wide-eyed and anxious as all get out. But there’s something deeper that keeps you moving, a desire–a need–to see Oscar again. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of for years. 

Every letter has been in preparation for this moment. Every word you’ve ever written to him saying the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say all those years ago. For the past week you’ve been rehearsing exactly how you’re going to tell the love of your life that you’ve fallen for him, that you’ve loved him since you were just 18. There’s nothing that could stop you, not even the fear of rejection. Four years of longing have put you in indescribable agony. There has to be some sort of resolve, good, bad, or otherwise. Today is the day that you’re going to share the one secret that you’ve ever kept from him. 

The blonde employee, Julia, leads you into the garage and begins introducing you to the team. Smiling and snapping photos with some people, you lose count of how many names you’re told and hands you shake. Not that you’re really trying to keep track, your mind being pulled in a different direction. Desperately, your eyes scan the small garage for the only face that really matters. 

You’re in the middle of discussing your latest race with one of the engineers when some movement from the back of the garage steals away your attention. A mop of brown hair and a dashing smile that you’d never forget comes into view. He’s rounding the car, chatting with his engineers and crew while laughing. He’s dressed in his race suit, the arms tied around his waist and showing off his skin tight fireproofs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him. The rest of the world fades into a blur while your living, breathing dream shimmers like a mirage in front of you. 

Finally, finally, he turns around with the soft smile that you’ve missed so much on his face. From across the garage, over the massive car between you, you lock eyes. Tears spring to your eyes as his jaw goes slack. You barely have time to blink or breathe before he jerks into action. He’s rounding the car in a hurry, whispering rushed apologies as he gently shoves people out of his way. You break away from your conversation with an ‘excuse me,’ meeting Oscar halfway.

The force of his hug knocks your hat clear off your head, but you hardly notice as he sweeps you up off the floor and into his arms. His arms, which are much larger than you remember, strangle you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. His face presses roughly into the crook of your neck. Smiling like a fool, you keep your arms wrapped around his neck, never wanting to let go. 

When he finally sets you back down, you pull only one hand away to wipe furiously at the tears that have slipped out of your eyes. Sniffing, you laugh at what a mess you’ve become. But when you look up to find Oscar’s tear rimmed eyes and bright smile, you can’t help but choke on another sob.

His hands are still on your waist while you try to sort yourself out. Eyes shining, you take him in fully. He’s so grown. He’s tall and broad and all man. Except for his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, and his boyish smile. Those two things have stayed the same. Looking at them now, it’s like your past and your future have collided and coalesced into one man. Sighing, you shove him playfully in the chest.

“When did you go and get all grown up?” you say, your voice thick with emotion. He captures your hand on his chest, taking it into his own. With his fingers wrapped around yours, you feel perfectly at home. A slight blush has crept into his cheeks, painting a soft rose across his ivory skin. Your chest squeezes at the sight.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says quietly while reaching down to pick up your hat. Playfully, he shoves it back onto your head with a small smile. 

For a couple of comfortable seconds, you just stand there in each other’s presence. Soaking in everything he is, you bask in the moment. He’s here with you. Finally. And the way he’s looking at you with those brilliant brown eyes makes you feel like not a day has passed since he left. The feeling that was born inside of you when you were 18, is reborn with double the intensity. Your love for the man in front of you is overflowing; it’s drowning you.

“Do you have a minute?” you ask after a while, your eyes darting around to the crowd around you. Oscar snaps back into reality with you, following your gaze to the stray looks you’ve been getting. Nodding, he leads you by the hand back to his driver’s room. 

It’s a tiny space, just big enough for a couch and a small closet. But it’s private enough to have the conversation you’ve been equally needing and dreading. Oscar sits next to you on the tiny couch, his side pressed into yours. You can’t tell if the contact makes you more nervous or sets you at ease. For as many times as you’ve thought about and planned for this moment, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Fiddling nervously with the hem of your bandana, you avoid looking your friend in the eyes. But, you can feel him staring at you. Suddenly, a large hand closes around both of yours, causing you to cease your fidgeting. Turning your eyes to his, you take in the crease between his brows and the small frown that pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Is everything alri-” he begins but you’re quick to cut him off. 

“Ah, hell,” you mumble quickly, making a knee jerk decision.

With both hands you grab him by the neck and yank his face to yours. His head knocks your hat back on your head, giving you enough space to kiss him. Pressing your unmoving lips to his, you hold him there in desperation. 

So much for the carefully crafted speech that you’ve spent four years on. 

For a couple heart wrenching seconds, he doesn’t move. He’s gone completely still under your hands, his lips slightly parted in shock. Shame pools low in your stomach as you begin to pull away. But your heartbreak lasts only a split second before his hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you in place while he bursts into action.

His kiss is just as desperate as you feel. Pressing into each other with all the passion you’ve been harboring for four years, you’re both consumed by the heat of the moment. Your head swims as his lips glide against yours, his tongue skimming over your bottom lip before pressing deeper. 

His free hand reaches out, grabbing your knee to haul you onto his lap. Sliding home over his muscular thighs, you sigh into his mouth. Nothing has ever felt more right. Perfection doesn’t do Oscar justice. He’s everything. 

He holds your waist tight between his large hands while your kiss slows down. Lazily, you suck at his bottom lip while he chases you backward. Once again his chest is on yours, your memory flicking back to the last time you saw him. You knew then that you were his, and he was yours. Nothing could keep you apart, especially not now. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and voice soft. You’d never been one to beat around the bush; so why even try when it matters most?

The payoff is better than you could have ever hoped. Oscar doesn’t waste a second before both of his hands cup either side of your face, holding a searing kiss to your lips. He’s firm but kind. He’s Oscar.

“I love you,” he replies breathlessly after a couple seconds.

Your heart soars, leaving your soul in outer space. Seeing stars, you lean your forehead against his, a small laugh bubbling from your chest. Oscar chuckles with you, his chest rumbling under your hands. Pulling back slightly, you take your time to just look at him. Soft brown eyes meet yours and there’s a look there that you know you mirror with your own gaze. Affection, longing, love.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know,” you accuse while adjusting your hat on your head. Oscar’s mouth falls open slightly, faux offense coming over his features.

“You’re the one who kissed me!” he accuses right back. “I was all prepared, too. But someone was just over eager to jump my bones.”

Pinching his side playfully, you watch gleefully as he yelps. Shushing him quietly, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. Silently, an agreement that this was far better than any words you could have said passes between you.

Shaking his head, he settles his arms around your waist and smiles despite himself. With callused fingers, you trace constellations between his freckles. Your heart sings and you wonder how you were ever able to stand being away from him. With Oscar next to you, with his breath on your face, and with his smile for just you, you know that this is it for you.

Four years have been spent dreaming of him. Now, the rest of your life will be spent dreaming with him.

[dreamcubed]

enchanted | fred weasley x reader

song; enchanted [taylor swift] pairing; fredweasley x fem!ravenclaw!singer!reader genre; s2l, f2l, fluff word count; 2,1k timeline; goblet of fire warnings; mentions of anxiety, mentions of drugs summary; maybe volunteering to sing at the yule ball would mean that your crush would finally notice you, and maybe you could have a wonderfully enchanting night as a result

masterlist

i might consider a speak now anthology... but not until after lover and reputation are done. i just had to use this song for this idea...

"please don't be in love with someone else."

————————————————

The purple sparkles glistening on your cheekbones gave your complexion an ethereal type of blush, accented by your magnificent lilac princess gown that spilled out at your hips. Your hair was perfectly styled, with delicate purple butterflies pinned in various places. This was a night that you had been rehearsing over and over for weeks now - and you couldn't fuck up this moment.

With a squeeze on your arm from your nearest and dearest friend, Jean, you gave a tight lipped smile and moved towards the stage. It felt as if the world stopped when you gripped the microphone in your hand, and silence fell upon the ballroom. You had been unable to think of a good introduction, so decided that delving right into the song was the best course of action. You heard the guitar begin.

"There I was again tonight Forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place."

As you opened your eyes, you scanned the crowd for the one person whose eyes you wanted pinned on you: the tuft of ginger hair that you had gazed at longingly from a distance for so long. You could tell him apart from his twin brother, quite easily tonight as while George was partnered up with Angelina Johnson, Fred remained dateless. It could only have been a personal choice, as he could have had any girl he wanted.

Including you.

"Walls of insincerity Shifting eyes and vacancy Vanished when I saw your face."

Your eyes locked on to his, and you remembered the moment you first laid eyes on him back in first year.

***

The glance of you, an awkward eleven year old, towards a ginger-haired boy at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Well, one of multiple ginger-haired boys. And, despite another of them being identical to him, he stood out to you like the shiny full moon in a starry sky. Maybe it was the cheeky grin he had on his face as he watched what appeared to be his elder brother realise that something had been shoved down his pants, or maybe it was the fact he seemed to be brimming with confidence.

For a shy child such as yourself, seeing someone of such the opposite genre, unafraid to be loud and proud— it was a spectacle. You were in awe.

And that was when he turned around and caught you staring. Heat rushed to your ears and you immediately turned away, hiding next to your mother, hearing the sound of his pleasant laughter in the background. You didn't think you would fancy someone at Hogwarts so quickly, and even young naïve you knew that it would be an all-consuming crush.

***

"All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you."

Never had you had his, and everyone else's, full attention quite like this. It made you feel like the goddamn belle of the ball, which was nerve-wracking but exhilarating. You gripped the microphone tighter, letting more memories flood over you, including the first time you exchanged words with Fred.

"Your eyes whispered, 'Have we met?' 'Cross the room your silhouette Starts to make its way to me."

***

Your first charms lesson, practising a simple levitation charm with feathers: a class that you happened to share with who you learned to be the Weasley twins. You couldn't help but glance at him every few seconds, to the point that you lost control of your feather and it went flying in his direction. Eyes growing wide out of shock, you quickly scurried out of your seat and over to where they were sat.

"This yours?" who you now knew to be Fred asked.

You nodded.

"Here you go," he said, passing it over with a smile, "Be more careful next time. You're lucky it's just a feather."

Embarrassment swarmed over you, and you wordlessly nodded yet again, grabbing the feather and hurrying back to your seat.

***

Despite such a humiliating first interaction, you grew in confidence over the years, and your crush on him became less debilitating.

"The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks Like passing notes in secrecy."

***

"Hey, Y/N, you were at Jean's party over the Summer, you saw Cho grinding up on Cedric in the living room didn't you?" your Gryffindor friend asked you as you walked past their table to your own. You stopped walking and chuckled.

"No, I didn't. I spent most the time upstairs."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah with the druggies."

You shook your head at her.

"You act like such a goody-two-shoes at school but you're secretly a party animal."

"Y/N L/N, a party animal? No way," Fred Weasley piped up from nearby.

You shrugged, "You wouldn't know. You didn't even get invited."

You watched as amusement flitted over his eyes at your remark. "Touché, L/N."

***

"And it was enchanting to meet you All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you."

You began walking to one side of the stage, soaking in all the attention being on you which would have driven you to a panic attack in first year. It still made you scared, but you could handle the feeling a lot better these days.

"This night is sparkling Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Blushing all the way home."

People began cheering as you picked up your volume.

***

In third year, you got assigned to be Fred's partner in a potions practical, as Snape did not let the twins be paired up under any circumstances. Despite your hatred of the man, you couldn't blame him for that move. And in that instance, you thanked him.

"I'm a lot luckier than George."

"What do you mean?" you asked as you laid out all the ingredients.

"He's partnered with a Slytherin guy, I'm with a pretty Ravenclaw girl."

You froze, relishing in the compliment without trying to appear too embarrassed. "Uh, thanks."

You heard him chuckle, "Like you've never heard it before."

Not from anyone but your mother.

***

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

When you had found out about the Yule Ball, you had been sick to your stomach thinking about seeing Fred with another girl. Every time he had briefly dated over the last few years had killed you, and this was no exception. So, you had thrown yourself into rehearsals and almost entirely isolated yourself, only to find out that Fred hadn't asked anyone and had come alone.

"The lingering question kept me up 2am, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake."

Why, though? Why hadn't he asked anyone? Why did he choose solitude and embarrassment over a lovely night of dancing and eventual making out?

"And now I'm pacing back and forth Wishing you were at my door I'd open up and you would say 'Hey, it was enchanting to meet you' All I know is I was enchanted to meet you."

You had spent a lot of time wishing he would ask you, and as you entered the second chorus, you found yourself shutting your eyes and dreaming that he would kiss and hug you when you left the stage. Telling you that he was so incredibly proud of you and that you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

"This night is sparkling Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Blushing all the way home."

You opened your eyes and let yourself have another glimpse of his face.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Dancing around all alone."

Alas, you did not have a date, and would likely be spending the rest of this evening dancing exclusively with friends— or maybe even alone, if they were busy with their dates. But, a girl could dream, and you could so easily imagine Fred approaching you and asking you for a dance.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

***

You frowned as you saw, for the first time, the Weasley twins in the Hogwarts library. For some reason, you highly doubted that their intentions were educational. Regardless, they appeared lost.

"Need some help?" you offered, beckoning all your courage to do so.

"What? No, we're good. We're fine," Fred said quite too suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow, "I'm not here to snitch, you just seem a bit confused."

They exchanged a look with each other.

"Okay," George sighed, "We're looking for the sludge based charms section."

***

"This is me praying that This was the very first page Not where the storyline ends."

This was was your second to last year of Hogwarts, and you couldn't have that be the end of your interactions with Fred. You needed to have more than that, you needed to communicate your feelings, you needed to feel his embrace. Unfortunately, you were a coward with love, and so you were going to extreme means to attract him so he would do the initiating. Rowena knows you were desperate.

"My thoughts will echo your name Until I see you again These are the words I held back As I was leaving too soon."

In a moment of adrenaline rush bravery, you firmly locked your eyes on to the man you had pined after for years. You hoped he was close enough to the stage to realise that you were looking at him.

"I was enchanted to meet you."

And as the backing vocals picked up, you lowered your microphone and gave a nervous smile as you watched his face contort in shock. He raised a finger and gestures to his chest, as if to say, "Me?"

You nodded, raising your microphone again.

"Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you!"

The corners you had stood in, the people you had hidden behind, the conversations you had avoided— they were history. You had overcome your fears, and it only took you nearly six years. Now, no matter what came of this, you couldn't look back and regret not confessing.

"This night is sparkling Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Blushing all the way home."

Maybe he felt the same, or at least had the potential to feel the same. Maybe he had realised that you were no longer the awkward eleven year old with a nose that was too big for her face and a haircut that did nothing for her features.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Dancing around all alone."

The crowd had melted away, and you couldn't even hear your own anxiety as you let the song absorb you. You refused to let yourself live to regret this moment.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

A part of the song that you could officially say did not describe you: he knew. Fred knew. He knew that you were enchanted to meet him, that your thoughts echoed his name, that you had held so many words back. And with that thought, you let yourself return to Earth, settling in the middle of the stage as you gently sung the final words.

"Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you."

Cheers erupted from all around you: Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. You took a bow, unable to wipe the grin off your face as you were applauded, deciding to ignore for that moment any consequences of your actions. That continued when you left the stage and your friends greeted you with hugs and compliments— until Jean pulled you aside and muttered.

"You looked at him."

"What?" you feigned confusion.

She gave you a look, "Don't play dumb. You sang the song at Weasley."

"I- yeah," you admitted.

"Well, don't leave him waiting."

This time, you were genuinely confused, "What?"

She nudged her head to her left, where you turned to see that Fred was patiently waiting for you to finish talking to your friends. "Go get him, girl."

You took a deep breath and nodded with a smile, walking towards the man who held your heart.

"Hi," you murmured, feeling shy again.

"Hi," he said softly, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Did you like my-?"

"I loved it," he cut you off.

You smiled abashedly.

"Can I have this dance?" he asked as the music began picking up again.

You accepted his extended hand, "You can have every dance."

And Fred grinned.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 17/03/2024 —> 07/04/2024 published; 07/04/2024 edited; —/—/——

[oopsabird]

it may seem like an odd niche but whenever i catch myself in despair these days, whenever i think the world has gone to places we will never reel it back from, i think about peregrine falcons.

more specifically, i make myself go read again andy johnson's cornell birds article about peregrines at taughannock. it describes how the diligent decades-long efforts of conservationists working for a future they might never see with their own eyes brought the peregrine falcon back from the absolute brink of extinction in north america, through the lens of their recent re-appearance in an ancestral breeding ground from which they had previously disappeared over fifty years ago:

[...]

On June 9, 2020, the first of the young falcons leapt from the ledge, tak­ing unsteady but successful flight across the gorge and alighting back on the cliff wall below the nest. The others hesi­tantly followed suit later that day. After fledging, the young would return to the nest ledge to roost at night, hunkering back into their familiar sanctuary after long days of exploration and learning. The venturing young birds soon discov­ered a dead hemlock trunk that reached out almost horizontally into the gorge, affording an expansive view from which to rest and preen. As luck would have it, this newfound real estate was on my side of the gorge, jutting out just below my vantage point. As one of the fledglings took flight from the nest ledge, I watched it glide below eye-level straight toward me, crossing the creek far below, and swooping up to land on the near snag, backlit and radi­ant. The adults’ slaty plumage was dusty and worn by this point in the season, but the juvenile seen up close sported buff-colored banding and scalloping on its fresh new feathers, and even a little tuft of down still on its head. It turned on the perch, adjusting its clumsy-taloned grasp and beating its wings to regain tentative balance. While the young bird was still finding its footing, it was every inch a Peregrine Falcon. By August, the gorge was quiet once again. The falcon family had departed on migration, streaks of white guano beneath the empty ledge the only sign left of their return. Months later, deep in the winter of 2021 and well before the first signs of a new spring, two svelte adult peregrines returned to the gorge and began their rituals anew, flying in unison, reorienting to the sensation of shale underfoot, and undertaking the serious work of growing their numbers, a few hard-shelled eggs at a time. As of this printing in late summer 2021, Taughannock’s wild Peregrine Falcons have embarked on their next half-century with a resounding affir­mation of past progress. This year they successfully fledged another four young.

To watch young falcons emerge from the mouth of Taughannock two years in a row, toward new gorges yet to be found, was thanks to a far-reaching and defiant vision. The decades-long recovery—a bold experiment to reel a species back from the brink of extinction with our own hands—was characterized by the uncompromising tenacity of a few peo­ple who had faith in the impossible, and a commitment to ends that might not be realized in the span of a human lifetime.

In February of 2019, at age 91, Dr. Tom Cade passed away, perhaps in the same moment that wild Peregrine Falcons first canvassed Taughannock gorge for nesting. He certainly would have loved to see Peregrine Falcons here in Taughannock, further culmination of a life’s work—a new line of peregrines completing a homecoming of their own accord, and a fully fledged testament to the long span of tireless work poured into recovering their forebears.

[positivexcellence]

Jared Padalecki Reflects on His 24-Year TV Run (‘I’m Pretty Tired’) and What’s Not Next After Walker Ends

“I’m grateful. Like, I’m not digging ditches. I’m not doing Red Cross work and saving human beings. But yeah, I’m pretty tired,” Padalecki says, adding that he’s “a little disillusioned about the state of the industry that I’ve loved and been employed with for 24 years. So I have a lot of thinking to do, and I have a lot of time to be with my wife and our kids, my friends, and think about where this industry is.”

Below, Padalecki opens up about Walker’s cancellation and why he doesn’t see another long-running TV series in his future.

TVLINE | Obviously, Supernatural was on a lot longer than Walker, but you were an executive producer on Walker, and you seemed to really bond with not only the cast but also the character of Cordell. So how has this letting go experience compared to that of Supernatural for you? With my experience on Gilmore Girls and Supernatural, we found ourselves in a similar situation, like around Seasons 3 and/or 4, where we were on the bubble, or there was a network change, or the head of the network changed, or there was a strike, or et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. So we didn’t know if we’d make it, and in both cases, the network believed in us and let us go as long as we wanted, and now, they’re like two of the top 10 most watched shows on Netflix, worldwide, every year. So I kind of, stupid me, I was hoping and assuming the same might happen… I knew there was a chance. There’s always a chance that the show’s not going to go, but I was like, “Well, we’re still the most watched. We’re not expensive.” So I didn’t know what to expect, and I haven’t yet had time to have closure with Walker.

With Supernatural, Jensen [Ackles] and I talked about it in our trailers on set for years, or during conventions in the green room, or at home, or flying together, or whatever, playing golf. We’d talk about it, and finally, Season 14, we kind of looked at each other, and we were like, “Hey, you know what, I think it’s time to go back to our families.” “Yeah, I think you’re right.” So we met with [CW President] Mark Pedowitz and said, like, “Hey, we’re going to do Season 15, but that’s it.” So we had a couple years, and we, ultimately, made the decision. I left Gilmore Girls to do Supernatural. Jensen and I decided to go ahead and let Supernatural end and give it a good send-off.

That was not the same situation with Walker, obviously. So I’m still kind of dealing with it, to be honest with you. I love the show. I’m so grateful for the four years that we had. I think back to during the pandemic, we were one of the first shows to go back to filming after COVID. We shot in October of 2020, and it was still masks and six feet away. There was just so much everybody went through: car accidents, and more COVIDs, and strep, and flu, and births, and deaths, and marriages, and divorces, and another strike, and this and that. So we had gone through so much together. We had weathered so many storms that I figured we had a lot more storms to weather. It’s not the way it worked out. But right now, I’m really focusing on how grateful I am, and will forever be, for the time I got to spend on Walker.

TVLINE | Given the circumstances, how do you feel about how the series ended and how the storylines were left off in the finale? To the credit of CW and CBS [Studios], when we shot the finale, when it was written, we didn’t know whether or not we were going to go for a fifth or further season, and they did not push us to try and wrap things up in a tidy little bow, which would’ve been really bad storytelling and a really bad episode. They kind of said, “Write the best episode you can. We don’t know if it’s going to go five years, or 10 years, or 30 years, or four years. So make it the best you can.” We knew, and [showrunner] Anna [Fricke] knew, and Blythe Ann Johnson knew — they wrote the finale together — that it was possible [it would end]. So when I think back on the finale, I think whether it was the end of Season 4 or the end of Season 104, I would’ve wanted all the characters to have a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, something to look forward to. And so, all the characters get a send-off and a salute of sorts, but it feels like a proper episode of television. It doesn’t feel like, “Oh, they are in a diner, and let’s just turn the cameras off.” But again, it’s so difficult to end. When you fall in love with a character, or several characters, or a story, for 69 episodes, like how do you end it?

So I’m grateful that we were able to create the best episode that we could without any incumbrances of like, “You better make sure everybody dies, or everybody gets a new job,” or something. Because how could you possibly end the story of all the Walkers and all their friends and been like, “Oh, yup, cool, don’t need to see them anymore”? Like, no matter how it ended, I would’ve wanted to see more of them, and so I’m very proud of the episode.

TVLINE | You went from Gilmore Girls straight to 15 seasons of Supernatural to Walker. Are you exhausted yet? I was exhausted 20 years ago. [Laughs] I am. I am exhausted. When I found out that Walker was not going to go for a fifth season, that was on a Tuesday, and I left for Europe on a Friday, part work, part fun. But I was in Europe for like three and a half weeks with family and a little bit of work, a lot of travel. So I’ve only been in the United States four days in the last month, and so, I haven’t really had time to fully grasp it. But yes, I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m grateful. Like, I’m not digging ditches. I’m not doing Red Cross work and saving human beings. But yeah, I’m pretty tired. I’m a little disillusioned about the state of the industry that I’ve loved and been employed with for 24 years. So I have a lot of thinking to do, and I have a lot of time to be with my wife and our kids, my friends, and think about where this industry is.

I haven’t had time to really reassess my life. I got into this industry when I was 17 years old on Gilmore Girls, and I, at the time, had my school schedule for UT Austin, and so, I thought I was going to do a couple episodes and go back to UT and pay off some student loans or something. That was 24 years ago, so I haven’t really had the time. And even during the writers’ strike in ’08, we were just waiting for it to end to go back and shoot Supernatural. The pandemic in 2020, I was just waiting for it to end, so I could go finish Supernatural and start Walker. The writers’ strike last year, just waiting for it to end, so we could pick up Walker.

I was in Europe for a while, and people would come up and take a picture and get an autograph or whatever and [ask], “So what’s next?” and for the first time in my entire life, I was like, “I don’t know.” “Oh, well, surely you have stuff. What’s next?” I was like, “Well, I don’t know.” They’re like, “Oh, you can’t tell us.” “No, no. It’s not I can’t tell you. I don’t have a job waiting for me,” which I’ve never said that in my adult life. So it’s interesting, and I’m going to surround myself with family and friends and loved ones, and try and figure out if I have anything else to offer that people want, and if I can be of service in storytelling, somehow, some way, then I guess I’ll put my proverbial cowboy hat back on and saddle up.

TVLINE | When you’re ready, though, do you imagine that you will want to do another TV series? I don’t think so. I don’t mind long TV, but I’ve heard it said many times, and I agree, that hour-long episodic television is the hardest job in the industry. If you’re Elijah Wood in Lord of the Rings, and it’s three three-hour long movies or whatever, it’s still like 18 months, you know? There’s an end in sight. With TV shows, sometimes it lasts 15 years, and sometimes they say, “Hey, where do you live? OK, we’re shooting in Vancouver.” You say, “But my family, my wife and kids are in Austin.” Like, “Well, good for them. They can come move up here. Here’s a thousand bucks to fly them out.” It’s not for the weak-spirited. Like, you really have to sacrifice a lot, and I’ve sacrificed everything I have to sacrifice for many, many years, and I think I’m at a point in my life where I want to spend more time with my wife and kids. If a job on a TV show comes up, like I’ve talked to Kripke about The Boys stuff, like, “Yeah, I’ll come play with you for a month. Yeah, I’ll come play with you for two months, for six weeks, or whatever,” or, “Yeah, I’ll come pop in a week out of every month for the next three months.”

But a classic TV contract is a six-year contract. My oldest son is 12, my middle son is 10, my daughter is seven. So if I sign a six-year contract, and they’re filming in Alaska, then I miss my son getting a driver’s license, I miss him graduating high school, I miss his first girlfriend or boyfriend, his first heartbreak, his basketball games, I miss my other son’s driving test, I miss my daughter turning into a teenager, and then I’m leaving [my wife] Gen, too. It’s a big commitment. So I don’t foresee myself doing that unless, again, it was in Austin, and I was the executive producer that could be involved in knowing the show and making sure the cast and crew all did it in as efficient a way as possible.

TV LINE

[usafphantom2]

The SR-71 Blackbird

The SR-71 spy plane, the most advanced member of the Blackbird family that included the A-12 and YF-12, was designed by a team of Lockheed personnel led by Clarence “Kelly” Johnson, then vice president of Lockheed’s Advanced Development Company Projects, commonly known as the “Skunk Works” and now a part of Lockheed Martin. The Blackbird completed its first flight on Dec. 22, 1964.

SR-71 Blackbird crew Vs North Korean regime

As told by Paul Crickmore in his book SR-71 Blackbird Combat Legend, in 1981 U-2 and SR-71 sorties began collecting ELINT and other data on a suspected SA-2 surface-to-air missile (SAM) site which was under construction on the island of Choc Tarrie in an estuary near the western end of Korea’s DMZ.

The North Koreans were preparing to shoot missiles in the airspace of an area that had been declared by both sides NEUTRAL.

Nevin Cunningham and Gino Quist, US Air Force (USAF) SR-71 crew, wanted to give their own personal response.

Flying the SR-71 #967 on a two Loop sortie of the DMZ on Aug. 25, 1981, Nevin flicked on the fuel dump switch during a final pass and in quick Morse code spelled out the four-letter expletive:

“F**k” off to the North Korean regime.

North Korean ground trackers who were ATTEMPTING to follow the SR-71 visually were watching. This message they were sending sure did provide lots of laughs back at the Habu’s bar at Kadena Air Base.

The very next day they attempted to shoot down the SR-71 Blackbird flown by Murray Rosenberg and Ed McKim with an SA-2.

Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe not.

Aviation geek club

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @bigfootsmom @iinryer for tidbit Tuesday! It’s late so I’m counting this double for wip Wednesday too, so here’s a kind of long bit! The opening of my big bang fic! OoOooOooh!

Eddie never knew anyone with the knack, growing up. Stacy Winters in the front office had it, according to playground rumor; she and her husband, who was a ranch hand or a cop or a power line worker. Eddie's mom shushed him when he asked about it and told him not to listen to gossip, and anyway he saw them dancing after school once and they seemed just like anybody. He twirled her around and around and she laughed loud enough for Eddie to hear her way down the hall where he was sitting in the nurse's office with an ice pack over a bee sting, watching through the open door. His abuelo and abuela danced like that, and sometimes his mom and dad, too.

It’s a rare phenomenon, a teacher droned on in sophomore biology on a day too nice outside to pay much attention to anything. Congeneric minds — or any of the dozens of colloquial names for them — are uncommon enough on their own, and the odds get even longer for them to find someone who also has the knack that they actually click with. Abuela called them lost pieces, like when Sophia had bumped into the dining room table and sent the jigsaw puzzle flying, sending parts under the fridge never to be found again, leaving their matching edges forever lonely. Together, congeneric minds are capable of great feats, the teacher went on. They share instincts, feelings, sometimes even movements, one mind sending a signal and another body responding. Little is known about the science of it, though not for lack of trying. There’d been a bunch of papers about experiments to force the pairing to happen in people, and then decades later a bunch more papers about how that doesn’t really work, and is entirely unethical anyway. Adrenaline seems to figure into things, some evolutionary quirk to give people in dangerous situations the best chance at surviving.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, people with congeneric potential tend to flock to high stakes environments. Eddie finally met a few pairs in the army, folks so in tune that one of them would be in the air before the other said jump. He’d found it a little uncanny. Johnson and Tucker, eating in the canteen, movements so synchronized it looked like they shared one body that by some bureaucratic error had been spread across two people.

He saw Tucker die, a few months into that first tour. Watched Johnson scream and choke and claw at his chest like the bullets had torn through him. Thought, guiltily, that he was glad no one knew him quite that well, shared his life quite that entirely.

And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

Tagging (for wip Wednesday) @chronicowboy @homerforsure @shortsighted-owl @shitouttabuck @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @butchdiaz and @bigfootsmom @iinryer ha ha boomerang

[ilyasorokinn]

home sweet home , erik johnson

note, this is dedicated to @comphyjost. i'm sad, you're sad, we're all sad. also, this fic is part of the "life with the johnsons" series. check out this masterlist for more. pair, erik johnson x reader summary, for the first time in 13 years, erik johnson is playing against the colorado avalanche. warnings, kids/children, pain word count, 1516 words

(gif not mine. by @mattymartin <3)

The entire flight back to Colorado, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was more of an excited/nervous. You were excited to be back and see all your friends.

Out of all three kids, only one wanted to come back to Colorado with you. Zach was the only one out of the three who wanted to come back, so you decided to let him miss two days of school and fly with you to Colorado.

When the Landeskogs heard you were coming with Erik, they insisted on picking you up from the airport. You still had your house in Colorado, but

You made your way out of the airport, one hand holding your suitcase and the other holding Zach's hand. You easily spotted the Landeskog's car. When the kids saw each other, they ran to greet each other, leaving their parents in the dust.

Melissa did the same and ran over to you, wrapping you in a hug, "All feels right in the world." She laughed.

"I've missed you guys so much." You squeezed her before pulling away and hugging Gabe, "Missed you, too," You smiled.

"How's Buffalo treating you?"

"Cold, but it's good." You smiled, looking back over to your kids, who were talking a million miles a minute as if no time had passed, "It's not here."

"That's for sure." Melissa looped an arm through yours, leaving Gabe to deal with the bags, as she led you over to the car and began catching you up on everything.

You weren't in Colorado for very long, so you spent the day catching up with old friends and doing everything you missed and couldn't do in Buffalo. You had lunch at your favorite restaurant with a few of the other girls, you visited some old coworkers and by that time, it was time to get ready for the game.

When you got home, Erik was also home and getting ready for the game. You smiled at the scene in front of you. It felt like old times, "This feels familiar." You hummed.

"Doesn't it." He smiled, "It's weird, isn't it?"

"A little. I've only been here for a day and it feels strange." You admitted, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head on his back, "You ready for tonight?"

"No." He admitted, "But it's a game, just like any other game." He shrugged with a sigh.

"It is, but it's not." You shook your head, spinning him around so he was facing it, "Have fun tonight, enjoy yourself." You told him, helping him tie his tie.

"I will." He nodded, a smile on his face as he watched you, "You have fun tonight, too." He nudged you.

"I will. In between all the crying and cheering." You joked, wrapping him in a hug, "I'm so proud of you, EJ."

"None of this would be possible without you." He hummed happily.

Later that night, walking back into Ball Arena, you were having an intense sense of deja vu. Everything was exactly the same but felt new at the same time.

You made your way down to the ice with the Landeskog family, who had made a sign for Erik, which made you cry the first time you saw it. After Zach saw it, he decided he wanted to make one too, so you quickly bought supplies and made a simple sign that read 'We love you, dad' and had his number on it.

You waited by the glass, Zach standing in front of you, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the Landeskog family on either side of you with their own signs.

Zach looked up at you, gesturing for you to bend down to his level, "I miss it here." Zach whispered.

You pulled away and smiled sadly, pressing a kiss to his head and hugging him, "I miss it here, too." You hummed, hugging him. You danced around with Zach, waiting for warmups to start.

A cameraman stopped beside you and Gabe, asking if you wanted to be on the jumbotron, and before you could respond, Zach spoke up before you, "Yes!" So, before you knew it, the four of you were on the jumbotron, showing off your signs.

You heard the crowd's reaction to seeing their captain, but then also to seeing Zach Johnson and Linnea Landeskog in the arena. you kept your kids' lives private but not a secret so people knew about them.

You looked around the Sabres side of the warmup ice and saw a good amount of people with signs for Erik, which warmed your heart and brought a few tears to your eyes, "Oh no, it's starting." Gabe teased.

When the guys skated out, you easily spotted Erik. There was a loud cheer that you knew would only get louder as the arena filled with more people. He skated a few laps, spotting you on the 3rd go-around.

He skated up to the ice with a few pucks. He handed one to Linnea through the photo hole and gave Lucas a few fistbumps, then handed one to Zach and two more to you, which you would pack in your suitcase and bring back to Lila and Ivy.

He gave Zach and fistbump and blew a few kisses before skating off. You wiped a few tears as you watched him skate off, "Don't cry." Melissa pulled you in for a hug.

"It's only going downhill from here." You laughed, knowing that the tribute video was coming up later. You stayed for all of the warmups, watching and marveling at all the people.

You made your way up to your seats, where a few of the other girls were sitting. They greeted you the same way Melissa had, with big hugs. You took your seat and took everything in. There was a buzz in the air. It felt like home.

A little through the first period, the tribute video played. The video had barely started, and you were already crying. The video started and played the videos of him getting drafts, his best goals, winning the cup, everything. You were surprised to see a clip of you and him in the montage.

It was a short clip of you running up to him after they had won the cup and let all the families on the ice. You found him in the sea of people and jumped into his arms, hugging him. The audio in the video was a little busy due to the commotion around you, but your voices were clear.

"You did it!" You said, your voice muffled due to you shoving your face into his neck, but the microphone he was wearing caught it.

"We did it, baby.” He corrected you, squeezing you tighter and pressing a kiss to your head before shoving his head in your neck.

The montage ended with a video of celly's and the interview he did with Emily Kaplan after winning the cup and talking about how he thought he would have to retire and how proud he was of the team.

After the 'Thank you Erik Johnson' picture flashed on the screen, he skated away from the bench and skated around, raising an appreciative hand to the crowd, a thankful and proud smile on his face as he looked out into the sea of people.

Your phone was out the entire time, taking a shaky video as your hands shook. You couldn't stop smiling and only cried more when the crowd started chanting, "EJ, EJ, EJ!"

After the game, you made your way down to the locker room with Zach, who had fallen asleep halfway through the third period. You could see his eyes closing and then shooting open every few seconds before he finally crashed and fell asleep, his head in your lap.

You carried him to the best of your ability down to the locker room and waited for Erik. A few of the Avs (7 guys) came down to the guest dressing room to talk to Erik, but when they saw you, they changed directions and made their way over to you.

Eventually, Erik came out, and when he did, they all cheered and clapped for him. He smiled, setting his stuff down and hugging every single one of them. He talked with them for a few minutes before they all said their goodbyes and made him promise he would get lunch with them before he left.

Once they were gone, it left you and Erik alone. You stared at him, an overwhelmed look on your face as you thought about the events of the night, "They're letting me stay at home tonight again."

"Good." You nodded, wanting to spend a night with him before he would be gone again. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could without jostling Zach too much, "I'm so proud of you." You whispered.

"I love you." He mumbled into your hair, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"I love you, too." You pulled away with a smile on your face.

-

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[fadingdaggerr]

hello :] i had an idea / req for you!

melissa/reader where r is new around (new teachers aide, teacher, anything rly), they’re just new so melissa isn’t exactly head over heels yet. but then maybe smth happens to r where they’re in trouble or hurt and melissa ends up being to one to find and take care of them, and melissa realizes how quickly she’s growing attached OMFG THIS IS SO LONG AND SUCH A RAMBLE SORRY! run with it however you’d like xoxo -🧛🏻‍♀️

blush to ruby

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! think i stuck pretty true to it, i went with r getting hurt rather than an altercation just bc my last fic was more that route

warnings: hurt/comfort (but literal hurt. like pain hurt), mentions of blood and a non-serious injury, r should’ve had a that’s so raven moment tbf, kinda short oops

note: title is light to darker shade of red to show deepening feelings, in case u were curious. i wanted to call this “unfortunate foreshadowing” but it’s a little on the nose

melissa hates lunch duty. everyone does really, she wasn’t alone. but what no one ever really talks about, recess duty. the worst part was the screaming, the occasional crying, and the constant whining when it was time to go back inside. somehow after running around at top speeds for twenty minutes straight, the children the even more hyperactive.

maybe it wasn’t so bad. ever since you started at abbott last semester, melissa found herself enjoying the extra time with you. she liked the little one-on-one conversations with you that this time allowed her. melissa thought it was rather sweet how you interacted with the little eagles. she’d watch as you ran down the line of swings, pushing each student as they giggled and yelled higher, higher! but this week was a blessing to the children, mr. johnson finally inflated the sad looking dodgeballs in the recess bins. four-square is a very, very serious matter.

“alright little eagles, huddle up,” melissa shouts with her hands cupped around her mouth.

“time for the rules,” you say, getting a collective groan in return, “don’t give me the uuugh stuff, half of you break them before the game even starts.” you hear melissa chuckle beside you, making you visibly struggle to hide a smile.

“no hitting the ball when it’s not you’re turn. only hit the ball with your hands, not your face. i’m looking at you, tyler,” you give him a playful glare, he sticks his tongue out in response. “hit the ball out of the bounds, you’re out. if it bounces more than once in your square, you’re out. catch the ball, you’re out.”

the kids create their teams and start playing, you and melissa are really only there to stop them from literally butting heads, and to grab the ball if it rolls out. four rounds in and everyone was laughing and having fun. melissa particularly enjoyed being gifted a dandelion flower crown that you helped one of her students make, gently laying it on top of her hair.

“last round, then we’re heading back in!” you call to them. when they change players, it’s all fourth graders, only one of which was from your class. melissa could recall that when yasir had been in her second grade class, he mentioned his sister played volleyball at the high school, and she taught him all about it. melissa turns to give you the heads up right as the game starts. the ball bounces into yasir’s square, to which he smacks with all his might. the sheer speed of the ball gave you no time to duck, smacking you straight in the face.

your hands fly over your nose, eyes already watering from pain. melissa can hear the muffled string of swears under your hands and immediately jumps into action, although shaking a bit with need to help you. she ushers the kids back inside the lunchroom to get them to their teachers. she runs to janine and asks her to watch her kids, and teacher lee to watch yours, while she takes you to the nurse.

“nurse alayna isn’t here today, but her office has the same key as the conference rooms. just leave her a note if you take anything other than tissues,” lee says as they wave your students over to their group.

melissa settles on guiding to the office with a hand on your lower back, quietly telling you she’ll help you and that you’re okay. she sees more tears form in your eyes when your pull your hands back, blood covering your palms. her hold on your waist tightens with reassurance, your tears making her protectiveness over you grow. when you get into the office, she holds tissues to your nose as you wash your shaking hands.

you cringe when you sit on the paper covering the bench, the sound of it making the pain in your head worse somehow. melissa noticed and watched as you stood up to rip away the paper violently, muttering asshole under your breath. even when you were in pain and crying, you were still you.

she replaced your hold on the tissues as she carefully wiped away rogue tears and blood with a tissue, apologizing when you winced. “okay hon, i’m gonna have to look at it for real now,” she speaks softly, as if you’re a scared animal.

you shake your head and ramble, “no, no, i can do it. you don’t have to look at it, it’s probably disgusting.”

she drops the tissue to hold your hand, “i’ve seen worse, i was married to a man,” this makes you chuckle, then wince from the laugh. “i want to help. i’ll be careful, i promise,” she holds her pinky out to you. she feels your smile under her hand more than she can really see it, but her heart rate quickens when your pinky wraps around hers as tight as possible.

“what’s the damage, dr. schemmenti?”

pulling back the tissues, melissa can see that your nose and the area around it was swelling a little. she used a featherlight touch to graze her finger up the bridge of your nose, checking to see if it had been broken. a hiss of pain from you has her hand retracting, apology hot on her tongue.

“sorry, sorry. i’m a wuss with pain and blood and all that,” your hands have a vice grip on your knees as you rush your words.

melissa’s thumb caresses your wrist, “don’t apologize, it hurts like a bitch. i just need to lightly pinch the bridge to feel if it’s broken, okay?” you grimace at the question but nod. “just squeeze my hand if it hurts, don’t worry about hurting me,” she reassured you, holding your hand, interlocking your fingers.

only about three second later, with an almost broken hand, melissa concludes your nose is not broken. she gently cleans off the blood from your skin, so gentle you can barely feel the touch except for the fabric of the towel. your hand stays in melissa’s, the looser grip allows her to feel the anxious vibrations still running through you.

she decides she has to make you feel better, “once we get you all patched up, how about we raid the lollipops? i know she’s got some around here, she saves me the bubble gum ones.”

you laugh a bit, careful not to disrupt the last of her work, “bubble gum? what’s wrong with you?”

“they’re horrible and i love them, okay? what do you even like? strawberry or something else boring?”

“root beer. obviously.”

“you don’t even like root beer, you’re a diet coke purist. you told me root beer tasted like minty iced coffee,” melissa says as she throws out the tissues and disposable towel, making a note of them and the future candies.

your free hand rises, “listen the lolly version is better than the soda. and there’s no diet coke lollipop, now is there?”

melissa relishes in your laugh for a moment, “you got me there.”

you’re able to run out to your car to grab a sweatshirt to replace your stained shirt, melissa standing guard as you changed in the backseat. she held back a cackle at seeing a delicately embroidered cursive, reading bon fromage, with a small stitched image of a wheel of cheese on a boat beneath it. you try to hold back your own laugh as you say, “don’t even start, it’s all i had in the car.”

“no, it’s cute. it’s ridiculous, but very cute,” she responds with a stifled laugh.

“if you’re done laughing, i’ll take that lollipop now,” your say, holding your hand out.

melissa drops your root beer lollipop in your palm, but you quickly switch them. her eyes never leave you as you unwrap the candy and place it in your mouth. her heart rate picks up and her skin warms, she blinks rapidly to erase the totally platonic thoughts she was having.

intent eyes watch as your tongue moves the candy to the side of your mouth to speak, “okay, maybe it’s not so bad. but root beer is still better.”

“i told ya,” she mumbles as she unwraps her own lollipop and tries it, “dammit. you were right.” you laugh and give yourself a little round of applause at her response.

you clear your throat, suddenly nervous, “thank you. you didn’t have to, even if you say it’s fine. just, thank you anyways. i really do appreciate it, melissa.”

she wraps an arm around your shoulders, leading you back into the building as she thinks about how to respond, “and i’d do it again in a heartbeat if i had to.”

the rest of the day has melissa has this nagging need to check on you, even with only two and a half hours left in the day. she had to wrangle with herself to not rush to ask how are you or peek through the window and see for herself. the deep-seated feeling to protect you only quadrupled in size after seeing you in pain, feeling you grip her hand for support. taking care of you had felt second nature to the redhead.

when the kids cleared out, she quickly grabbed her things and walked to your classroom. she lingered in the doorway as she watched you pack away your planner and a couple folders for grading away into your bag. she knocked lightly on the doorframe to announce herself before she was caught staring, only to be met with soft eyes and a smile, a hand motioning her closer. as if she’d ever stray far from you again.

on the nose. get it :D i’m sorry.

feedback appreciated, love y’all big time

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Room 1013 - Goodie

Day #23 - Up and Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex, Under-Negotiated Kink (Including Unexpectedly Being Called Daddy), Mentions of Weight (Not Derogatory, Just Not Ignored) | POV: Goodie | Pairing: Goodie/OC (Female) | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Winding Down After The Gig, One Night Stand, Mr. Goodie's Wild Ride

1 Night, 4 Rooms Each is standalone, but takes place on the same hotel floor.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

"She's either into you or me," Gareth says, then looks at his watch for the thousandth time tonight. Gareth hasn't let any of the rest of them forget it all evening that his girlfriend is still flying in tonight.

They're just trying to wind down after the show, and all Gareth can think about is when Di is gonna get here. It's kind of disgusting. There was a time, and not that fucking long ago, thank you very much, that Gareth would have been working this bar like a goddamn pussy hound. 

And to Goodie's dismay, it somehow always worked. 

He'll never understand it. Gareth isn't anything to look at. None of them are, really. All decidedly average, as far as Goodie can tell.

Freaks, the lot of them. 

But Eddie somehow landed Steve. 

And Di's cute as shit. 

Both of them are punching way, way above their weight class. 

Goodie isn't sure why the fuck Gareth didn't just go wait at the airport terminal if he can't relax enough to enjoy himself. He can't make her get here any faster. They already went through this with Eddie and his dogged obsession with Steve, and now Gareth's acting like he's in love. 

They're all ate up. They get their damn dicks wet, and think they need to commit for life. Gareth from a few months ago wouldn't be acting like this, he'd still be pulling a girl or three a week, like he made a Robert Johnson crossroads deal, but for pussy instead of musical success.

The girl walks by again, and Gareth raises his eyebrows.

Maybe she is looking. Maybe not. Gareth definitely has an overactive radar for women that hasn't dampened, even in a relationship, apparently.

After Eddie and Jeff bailed for the night, and Gareth's on the payphone again, Goodie leans against the bar, waiting on a drink.

A hand touches his back, pressing into the leather of his jacket, like they're leaning in close. He's sure it's Gareth telling him he's finally leaving, but when he turns, it's the girl Gareth had clocked as interested.

"Am I in your way?" he asks, taking a small step to the side. There's not much room to maneuver, but he can pretend to make room. 

She smiles and shakes her head, "You're in Corroded Coffin, right?"

He nods, a little surprised. She doesn't look the type to follow their music, not really, not even where they are now, sort of barnstorming the mainstream.

"Yeah, I'm Goodie," he says, offering him her hand, "the bass player." 

"Bass is good. I like it deep," she says, holding out a Sharpie, tugging down the top of her tank top, "Make it out to Gina?"

He's signed tits before, they all have, but not usually outside of a gig. 

The stool behind him is free, so he sits back on it, and she immediately wedges herself between his legs, both of her hands resting on his thighs.

He braces his left hand against her collarbone, definitely for leverage, and not at all so the heel of his hand grazes the top of her tit, as he drags the ink of the marker across her skin. It doesn't look great, but he's pretty sure it was just a reason to approach him.

And he doesn't mind that, not at all.

She looks down as he signs. 

He lets go, and she grins, leaning close, pressing her chest to his, whispering in his ear, "Got somewhere for us to go?"

Hell yes, he does. 

He may have bitten off more than he can chew, with this one.

"Pull my hair," she says, and fuck, she's something else. She's already facedown, ass-up on the bed, and he can follow orders, grabbing a fistful of hair, close to the scalp, and tugs as he fucks into her. She's making a lot of fucking noise, and he's gonna get a ration of shit from Eddie and Gareth, stuck in the rooms on either side of him.

Hell, as loud as she's being, Jeff might hear, down the hall.

"Fuck me, daddy! Spank me!" she screams, rocking back on his cock. Fucking herself. Being called daddy isn't really his thing, but he can roll with it. 

He's just along for the ride. But he's pretty sure he can't pull her hair and spank her at the same time, not unless she wants him to crush her.

Hell, she may like that. Fuck if he knows. She's clearly a fucking freak, and from one freak to another, he's into it. He's just aware of his size and knows which positions work best. On his back, get ridden, is always a popular fucking choice.

"Harder, harder," she chants, and he slams his hips against her ass, over and over. 

He lets go of her hair, and smacks her on the ass. She keens at that, making a racket. He hits her again, harder, and she just gets louder.

Daddy, daddy, daddy.

Goodie tries to ignore that, and focus on everything else.

She slides off his cock, rolling onto her back. 

He catches her feet, and puts them on his shoulders, sliding into her. Then scoots forward a few inches on his knees, changing the angle, pressing more of his groin in direct contact with her clit. It's a go-to fat man move, and he's damn well-practiced. His secret weapon. 

He pounds into her, and she's damn near screaming. Not everything she's done tonight does it for him, but this definitely does. Moaning, pushing back with her feet, clawing at his thighs, tits bouncing.

He puts his hand over her mouth, and she comes. Loudly. And the way she's gripping and pulsing around his cock, he's pretty sure it's the real deal. He shifts, and keeps grinding against her, extending her orgasm, as he finally comes with a groan.

He's just slid out of her, still dealing with the condom, when she says, "Let me know when you're ready for more."

God-fucking-damn.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[scvrmqueen]

Oooooo your requests are open <: I was wondering, how do you think Danny would react to another killer going after reader? Like, in a scenario where another killer has reader cornered?

Hi @mamamemequeen, thank you so much for your request! I love this idea! I hope this is okay!  ♡ 

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — Headcanons & one-shot.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — Danny Johnson x reader.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — Blood, gore, stalking, Danny being Danny

Danny is possessive - when he chooses a victim, he is all in.

This man literally spends weeks stalking you. That's weeks of hiding in the shadows learning your routine, taking detailed notes of the layout of your apartment, and crafting the perfect demise.

Not to mention, his sleep schedule is decimated thanks to you. Every waking hour that he isn't running around playing 'Jed Olsen' he's watching you. His pretty little muse.

So, you can imagine that he isn't pleased to find another killer taking up your time. I mean, what are the chances? He's almost a little jealous.

Danny may be calculated when it comes to the hunt, but he is a petulant child when his plans are altered.

Anyone who tries to hurt you has a major death wish. Danny won't let some amateur take what's his.

After all, you're his obsession.

The night had devolved into a fit of madness quicker than you could comprehend. One moment you were leaving work, the humid Florida air clinging to your skin. The next, you were pressed against the rough brick of a secluded alley - a steel blade digging into your neck. Rancid breath enveloped your senses, a demented chuckle escaping the lips hovering above your own.

"No one's gonna hear you scream," the man said, his free hand gliding up the exposed flesh of your thigh. Tears stained your flushed cheeks with the realization of your impending demise. The knife parted from your neck, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he raised it high above you, prepared to feel it slice through your flesh.

But the killing blow never came.

Something warm and wet splattered against your face, your eyes flying open in shock. The man's lifeless gaze greeted you, a knife protruding straight through his neck. The blade was ripped away, his corpse tossed away by the firm grasp of your savior.

Perhaps savior was too generous.

Standing before you was a figure shrouded in black, his face concealed by a theatric white mask. A strained gasp escaped your lips as you recalled the headline in the morning paper depicting the same plastic scream.

"Ghost face," you whispered in disbelief. What were the chances that you escaped the clutches of one demented psychopath only to be thrown to another?

"Very good, bunny," he commended with a mocking lilt. You recognized that alluring voice from the phone calls you had received earlier in the week. "You look so pretty covered in blood."

He stepped forward, his lithe figure towering above you as you attempted to press yourself further against the wall. You whimpered as he leaned down, his knife staining the curves of your jaw crimson.

"You're going to kill me," your voice trembled. Though intended as a question, you were far too aware of the Ghost Face's reputation to suspect an alterative outcome.

"Oh, of course I'm going to kill you doll face," the blade rested under your chin, forcing you to gaze into the black abyss encompassing his eyes. "But not yet. See, our fun has only just started. I just had to make sure no one else took what was mine."

[silhouetteonpaper]

DERIVED FROM POWER | Ch. 5

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

WC: 2458

Warnings: Anxiety attacks

A/N: I hope you are enjoying the series so far! I can’t wait for you all to see what I have in store ;)

CHAPTER FIVE

The sun had set and everyone was getting ready for bed. Well, everyone but the young girl who had other plans for tonight. Y/N stood in her room, waiting for the hallway to go completely silent as a sign everyone was going to sleep. It took a while, but eventually the last bedroom door shut and she knew it was time.

She didn’t pack a bag, she didn’t plan to take anything with her. When it came down to it, Y/N had nothing. She had no family now, no belongings, nothing to call her own. Except for her powers, which she wished she could leave behind.

It was finally time to take the only control she had and use it to escape, now that no one suspected her to leave. The girl hoped she built up enough trust with the team to throw them off her trail, lessening their worries about her trying to get away.

Y/N quietly stepped into the hallway, glancing up and down the rows of doors to make sure they were all closed. She couldn’t risk making any kind of noise, the smallest sound threatening to wake someone up. It would only end in the entire team forcing her to stay just like before.

The plan she formulated was simple: steal a jet and fly away. The girl knew there was a landing pad on the roof, just from overhearing the team talk about mission details. Flying a jet would be the hardest part, but Y/N was smart and had recalled all the times she watched the pilot fly her family’s private jet, knowing she could pick it up quickly.

She wasn’t anxious, she wasn’t angry, she wasn’t even disappointed. Y/N just wanted to be done with it all, all of the drama and being treated like a glass object yet simultaneously a dangerous weapon. Maybe she was a bit of both deep down, but all Y/N really wanted to be was a girl.

As she stepped in the elevator and pressed the button marked ‘Landing Pad’, the whirring mechanics of the moving car made the floor buzz. Y/N didn’t notice, soon stepping off. She immediately spotted the large door at the other end of the hall that would open to the rooftop landing.

The tall door slid open with a hiss, revealing a sleek black jet on a concrete platform surrounded by the dark night sky. Y/N couldn’t pull her eyes away from the stars dotted amongst the deep blue, a cool breeze hitting her the second she stepped out onto the pad. The moon sat front and center, overlooking the city line below. Y/N’s brown eyes gleamed in the light, her attention suddenly fixated on the view.

“You know the event is inside, right?” Johnson spoke to the girl. She laughed softly, sitting on the steps of an elegant government building staring up at the sky. Her gaze was mostly on the moon, the warm light it offered lighting both of their faces just enough to see each other.

“I prefer it out here. The quiet, it’s nice.” Y/N responds softly, almost with a sad tone. She feels like the moon sometimes, surrounded by stars and overwhelmed in their sparkle. All the attention being on her until she is forced to hide, then having to show herself once more only to repeat the same process.

It was comforting, knowing the moon was similar to her. Y/N enjoyed sitting in its presence, taking in their similarities as she attempted to escape her own world. “I’ll be right inside the door there, let me know if you need anything.” The security personnel told her, smiling before heading back inside.

She nodded, not bothering to move her eyes from the sky. Here, she wasn’t the senator's daughter. She wasn’t tomorrow’s news story. She wasn’t pretending. Here, she was at peace.

The feeling of something wet on Y/N’s face brought her back to the present, her hand moving to wipe it away. She realized it was her own doing, salty tears beginning to flood from her eyes, the feeling of sobs prying to escape her lips forcing their way out. All the emotion she forced herself to hide just to please the press, the authority figures, her parents, it was all coming back to her now. And she couldn’t push it down this time.

Y/N let herself fall to her knees, the overwhelming wave of anxiety, fear, and self-conscious thoughts surging through her mind. Her cries turned to wails, her tears to a waterfall. She couldn’t stop it. All the times she had to put on a smile or a confident expression at the terrible questions, offensive news articles, hurtful reprimands from her parents, she was replacing this. It was too much to hold in for so long.

After her emotions had their chance to emerge, Y/N’s remaining tears now began to fall silently, her eyes and face red from the episode. She sat on the edge of the landing pad, her feet dangling over the side of the building as she looked back up to the moon. Her only friend, who offered so much support yet none at the same time. It was just a moon, it couldn’t do anything for the girl. And in this moment she hoped so much that something could.

Suddenly, soft footsteps on the concrete behind Y/N made the girl jump, her head whipping around to see the intruder. Her heart skipped a beat, but soon calmed down as she spotted the strawberry blonde from earlier. Wanda.

She came outside wrapped up in a sweater, the wind a bit chilly as it blew her hair around. Y/N took a deep breath, looking back out to the city. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and knew her face probably looked a mess after crying.

Wanda silently moved to sit next to her, also turning her attention to take in the beautiful night sky. “I’ve always loved coming out here at night,” Wanda spoke softly. Y/N didn’t move a muscle, hoping Wanda would just go back inside. She didn’t need someone she barely knew trying to offer support.

“I used to sit out here when I was overwhelmed, after the Avengers recruited me from… not so great circumstances.” Wanda continued. Y/N glanced at her for just a second, slightly confused. Not so great circumstances? Wanda was trying to make Y/N come around, and the girl was smart enough to know that, so she told herself it wasn’t going to work.

“HYDRA experimented on me too, told me that I needed their help to keep the powers I was born with. But utilizing the mind stone, they ended up using my powers for their own advantage. Although they did enhance them and keep them alive, it wasn’t for the right reasons. The Avengers gave me an opportunity for a second chance, and helped me find a purpose after everything that happened.” She finished, sharing her experience in hopes of relating to Y/N. The young girl now stared at Wanda in shock, her mouth slightly open.

Wanda was just like her, used by HYDRA and rescued by the Avengers. She even held the power of one of the stones. She understood. Y/N didn’t have to say anything, because the girl knew Wanda already had an idea of what she was going through. Wanda was probably right there all those years when the Avengers planned their protection for Y/N.

“How long have you known about me?” Y/N asked, her mind still reeling at the news. The girl felt like she could suddenly trust her, and was curious to ask more. It was a weird feeling, knowing you could rely on someone just from something they shared.

“For a few years. When I joined the team, they let me in on the plan knowing I’d understand it well. I’ve been a part of it for a while, just working behind the scenes.” She explained. Y/N swallowed her emotion, tired from everything she already let out. Wanda already knew Y/N well, and for some reason the young girl felt she knew Wanda just the same in return.

“What are your powers?” Y/N asked shyly. Was Wanda able to do the same things as her?

“Energy manipulation, sort of like yours. The mind stone gave me the ability to alter anyone’s mind, creating things that are only an illusion. I can read minds as well.” Wanda informed, noticing Y/N’s eyes go wide. “I don’t do it unless it’s for a mission, I’ve never done it on you… well…” She paused, biting her lip. Y/N raised her eyebrows, worried Wanda knew her deepest darkest secrets. Although she supposed these heroes already knew her biggest secret.

“There was a time when we were watching you, and the team didn’t believe me when I said you were putting on an act for your parents. It was at a big event where we were all disguised. I proved it to them by reading your mind to see how you truly felt, about all the attention, media, press, and I was right.” She said sadly. Y/N sighed, knowing all too well her fake smile and sociable personality wasn’t real whenever she was fulfilling her duties of being the senator's daughter.

The two sat in silence for a bit, just taking a moment to process and feel. In a way, they both needed it. Wanda was finally at peace knowing Y/N was safe here, and Y/N was glad to be in the presence of someone who actually understood her.

“How’d you know I was out here?” Y/N randomly asked, curious as to how Wanda found her. Was she crying that loud? Or was she obvious with her attempt to escape?

“I heard the elevator moving and went to investigate. I couldn’t sleep, after meeting you I’ve been waiting to talk and it kept me up. There were a few times I debated leaving after being brought here too, and I’d come up here to cry, think, or plan.” Wanda responded with a smirk, slightly calling out Y/N’s episode. The young girl laughed at herself, her idea of stealing a jet sounding stupid now. She wiped away the last few tears that remained on her face, sniffing any lingering emotions back down. “I understand you want to escape, I know you worry about everyone else around you. But please, Y/N. Focus on yourself. I know you’re hurt after everything that happened, so let yourself feel that.” Wanda puts her hand on Y/N’s arm, offering consolation.

The young girl nods, looking at her lap. She didn’t want to admit that Wanda was right, because it was so hard to even consider thinking about herself. The idea made all of the emotions want to bubble back up, more tears threatening to fall from Y/N’s face. She laughed as a few more slid down her cheeks, resurrecting her sniffling.

“I feel stupid for crying, my parents ingrained in me that it was weak. I never let them see how I truly felt. I’ve kept it hidden for so long.” She continued to cry, letting the words all fall out of her mouth. “My parents were terrible to me, and I just let them be terrible. I never had a chance to be myself, I don’t even know what that looks like.” She ranted. 

Wanda sat in silence with an understanding yet concerned expression, her hand still resting on the girl's arm. She remembered what the sudden flood of emotion felt like when she first experienced it at the tower. She didn’t want Y/N to be alone for it like she was.

“I know, love. It’s okay to feel all those terrifying, painful, horrible emotions that are trying to get out. Let them, I promise you’re safe here.” Wanda assured the girl. Y/N nodded again while wiping more tears, trying to keep up with the rest that continued to fall.

“I feel so helpless, I want to escape so I don’t hurt anyone but I know it’s wrong. Plus you guys won’t ever leave me alone.” Y/N chuckled through her tears. Wanda added a laugh as well, knowing how persistent the entire team was about making sure the girl didn’t step foot out of the tower.

“Try to leave and I will use my powers on you.” Wanda joked, making Y/N laugh. “But seriously, if you ever feel the urge to run from your problems, physically or mentally, come find me. I’ve got you, Y/N. All of us here do.” She spoke warmly, her eyes meeting Y/N’s as they exchanged a trusting feeling between them. It felt comforting to know the other went through something similar, and made Y/N a little more confident that someone who used to be like her was in Wanda’s position now. That there was finally someone who could understand.

Y/N and Wanda walked silently back through the hallways, the young girl feeling more at ease now, and the woman feeling like she could sleep peacefully knowing she said what she needed to. Wanda walked Y/N into her room, making sure she actually got into bed before leaving.

As Y/N started to walk into her room, she froze for a second, causing Wanda to raise an eyebrow. She was taken aback when the young girl turned and shot forward to hug her, Wanda immediately embracing her back. They sat in the comfort of each other for a moment before Y/N pulled away, smiling up at her before walking to her bed.

Wanda stood in the doorway with a matching soft tired smile on her face, watching as the young girl got into bed. “Goodnight, Wanda.” Y/N spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Wanda responded, the two exchanging one last kind smile before she left and closed the door, leaving an exhausted Y/N to rest. Wanda soon fell asleep in her own bed, relieved at the wall the young girl put down for her tonight. It was an incredible feeling knowing Y/N was finally safe, and Wanda could finally treat her like a real person and not a mission subject.

As the young girl drifted off into a deep sleep, her worries soon faded into nothingness. She hoped that somehow, someday, she could be like Wanda. But deep down, Y/N knew the only way to progress was by eliminating the people after her. And how could a young girl possibly do that on her own?