#I know a lot but enough to just. talk at people about it? without them asking leading questions? nah

[uswntdreamer]

unwelcomed ❥︎ a. putellas & c. graham hansen x reader.

your first three weeks working for barcelona's women's hospital went as smoothly as you'd hope, but you find yourself in the middle of a rivalry between the two top surgeons. prologue of in sickness, in health.

warnings: mentions of workplace harassment.

in all your three weeks of working at barcelona women's hospital, there has never been a non busy day, let alone a non busy hour or minute. you were constantly rushing up and down hallways throughout the medical facility. constantly answering calls from patients and coworkers alike.

it was tiresome, no one ever said being a nurse at one of the top medical institutions for women's health in europe was going to by light work, but you figured that (with all the world class medical professionals around) it wouldn't be as stressful as working at a normal hospital in a decently sized city.

that's when you realize that everyone has to pull their weight, big or small. you often felt bad about your complaints towards your workload considering that it was minor compared to what the surgeons have to do, especially dr. alexia putellas and dr. caroline graham hansen. two of the absolute best.

you've only interacted with dr. putellas, the heart surgeon; she was the head of the surgeon department, so you saw her often. if she wasn't booked with patients, you'd usually see her in the hospital's garden taking a well deserved lunch break.

despite having such an crucial role, she rarely ever talked to anyone, except for dr. guijarro, dr. rolfö, or dr. paredes (who was the hospital's head supervisor, a very important woman). for everyone else, it was the usual head nod or no response at all. she was a 'go to work & go home' type of woman. your interactions with the woman was always short and simple, "hello." "good evening." "goodbye." and nothing more.

you quickly learned from a few of your coworkers that dr. putellas was quite the heartthrob. women would always fond over her and even make unwelcomed advances towards her. all the attention made her uncomfortable and you believe that its what made her so reserved.

"she's a real sweetheart." dr. frido, one of the more vocally welcoming doctors, said to you one day. "she just has a lot of eyes on her, many of them are quite perverted, so she keeps to herself in order to stop all the attention."

you only nodded in agreement because what else could be said? dr. putellas was a professional who was just trying to do her job without being the target of romantic, and even sexual, comments.

dr. frido glanced over to nurse engen with a teasing smile. "ingrid has had similar problems before a certain police officer came into the picture."

nurse engen blushed lightly. "it was hard to do my work when women would comment on my eyes. it's nice at first, but then it gets annoying pretty fast." the norwegian nurse turned her attention to the small police officer who was standing off near the front exit with another police officer a little shorter than her.

the said officer, affectionately named mapi, quickly looked away when she was caught by her lover. engen and frido both laughed at mapi's adorable obession with the nurse. you only smiled, not sure if you were familiar enough with them to laugh along appropriately.

as much as you were curious about dr. putellas, you kept your distance away from her as you didn't want her to assume you were like the women she awfully despised. your efforts seemed to please the older woman as she frequently sent you a small smile whenever you passed by her.

you were a bit more curious about the other famous surgeon, dr. graham hansen. while you knew a few details about dr. putellas, you knew absolutely nothing about dr. graham hansen, the hospital's brain surgeon, and it seemed like no one did. not even her fellow norwegian, nurse engen.

"i know as much about her as you do." ingrid said calmly. "i'm a bit shy when it comes to meeting new people, so i never got the chance to bond with her and i think she might also be shy as well. we do have a reputation for being shy [norwegians]."

"you can always talk to osho." frido cuts in. "i think osho is the only one here that knows anything about caroline."

"osho?" you asked.

"asisat oshoala, but we call her osho." frido informed. "osho works at the front desk in the children's unit. she's also caroline's 'best friend' and i always see those two hanging out together."

ingrid agreed with the swede. "yeah, i'm not sure what brought them together, but they are quite the pairing."

you have yet to meet asisat, but you assumed that she was as reserved as dr. graham hansen. dr. graham hansen always locked herself in her laboratory, she refused to leave the room until her work for the day was absolutely done and even by then she would still work away until the late night, or at least until dr. paredes came to relieve her of her duties.

you only knew what the woman looked like because her face was plastered on newspapers and advertisements around barcelona, but you have yet to see her in person. it makes you wonder what qualities asisat possesses to get to know such a socially off woman like dr. graham hansen. it was only the third week of your employment, so you knew you were bound to meet her eventually.

and by 'eventually', you weren't expecting to meet her now.

"I just need you to work with this young woman for the rest of the operation, which means you'll be working under the supervision of caroline." dr. paredes informed you as she read of a clipboard. "the patient is recovering from a traumatic car collision which brought damage to her..."

you completely blocked out any more words coming from the older woman's mouth. too focused on the fact that dr. graham hansen was now your field supervisor to listen. a few thoughts ran through your head as you struggled to process the given information.

"what if she's strict? what if she's a bitch? does she know that i'm not as experienced in the same field? what if i make a mistake? will she report me? will she berate me? does she even talk? will she just ignore me the entire time?"

"nurse." you hear paredes address you firmly.

you snap out of your thoughts immediately. "yes?"

dr. paredes gives you a pointed look. you feel your insides turn a bit. dr. paredes softens her gaze a bit before gesturing over to graham hansen, who leaned against the door frame of her office, staring down at you like you were a child in need of discipline.

"please sign your name here and follow caroline to operation room 7." she hands out a pen to you. in your perpheral vision, you can see that dr. graham hansen had already made her way down the hall to operation room 7.

you signed your name and quickly followed after the surgeon, not exactly feeling great about how you presented yourself in front of two women who could possibly end your career.

the moment you arrived, you already saw dr. graham hansen hard at work. you applauded her mentally for her dedication to her job. you took a glance over at the victim on the hospital bed; a teenage girl with brown skin and braided hair tied back into a ponytail. you took a closer look at her and saw no significant damages, a few scars and bruises here and there, but nothing that gave a clue that she was in a car crash.

"her vitals have already been checked. go sit in the corner." dr. graham hansen commanded without taking her eyes off the x-ray screen.

your body stilled a bit, but you followed her orders regardless. you watched caroline look through autopsy reports and other medical files, feeling absolutely useless in this whole ordeal.

"vitals have been taken, bloods have been drawn, x-rays have been performed, and a bodily clean up has already been done. why am I here exactly?" you think to yourself. you think a little more before coming to the conclusion that you're an assistant nurse, which means you'll be assisting the surgeon rather than the patient.

this made you furious because you absolutely hated being an assistant nurse. it was an insult to your career and to your image. while you could be doing your actual job, you're sitting in the corner like a child while you wait for someone (who's actually doing their job) to give you an order, like getting her a bottle of water or something.

you were going to speak up, but caroline had reached for the hospital phone and dialed four numbers before turning her back to you. you waited anxiously as the phone rang against caroline's ear. someone eventually picked up.

"asisat, can you bring me a book to 7?" caroline requests as she continued typing away. "bring a self-help book. like one of those 'self-improvement' ones and maybe another one in the feminine literature genre. thank you."

dr. graham hansen set the phone back into the holder then went back to work. you were contemplating asking her if she needed anything, but you didn't want to leave the room before getting to meet asisat. after three minutes of silence (aside from the light taping of the keys), there was a knock at the door.

"enter." dr. graham hansen commanded plainly.

you were hoping to meet osho, but the door opened to reveal dr. putellas. you and dr. graham hansen were perplexed to see the tall woman at the door. dr. putellas looked down at you with a frown before shifting her gaze back to the woman occupied by the screen in front of her.

"you are quite a selfish woman, caroline." dr. putellas spat out nonchalantly. your eyes widened and the typing came to a halt. dr. putellas didn't care whatsoever. "this woman could be doing her job and you're keeping her hostage for the next six hours. you always do that and it's shameful."

dr. graham hansen glared at the latter through her reflection on the computer screen. "i don't always do that. irene grabs random nurses and attaches them to me. i'm completely independent."

"then you should tell irene to stop." dr. putellas responded.

"you think i didn't already?"

"no i don't think you did. you're incapable of basic socialization."

dr. graham hansen growled. "i remember telling asisat to bring the books, not you."

dr. putellas crossed her arms. "you did, but I knew those books weren't for you, but rather one of your hostages."

"so your purpose here is?"

"to confront you, that's all. if you're not going to use her, then let her continue her work."

you were about to jump into the mix, but dr. graham hansen slammed her hand down on the desk.

"then why don't you go complain to irene instead and leave me the hell alone? she's free to walk out of this room whenever she wants. no one but her own consciousness is stopping her." dr. graham hansen snapped and whipped her chair around to face dr. putellas.

"what in the world is going on here?" you hear irene asked from out in the hall. you look out to see her standing alongside dr. frido and a short police officer, who you recognized as mariona.

dr. graham hansen glared at both you and dr. putellas then at paredes. "get this little girl and her white knight away from me."

irene looked between the three of you. she knew that both alexia and caroline had issues with each other, for what reason? she does not know.

she beckoned you out of the room. "frido, please take her to the children's unit and bring osho down." she looked at alexia with a disapproving glare. "ale, my office now."

dr. putellas smirked at you before making her exit. frido and mariona waited for you out in the hall. you looked back at dr. graham hansen and she had the look of murder in her orbs. you quickly left the room.

"what is their problem?" mariona broke the silence after a minute of walking. "this has been happening since caro joined us a few years ago. is ale.... jealous or something?"

frido shrugged. "i'm not sure. i talked to osho and she's not sure what the deal is either. might want to ask patri."

you kept your mouth shut the whole time. there have been major events here and there at the hospital, but this was probably the biggest you've experienced. to be at the center of the issue this time felt so surreal, to have two intelligent women fight 'over' you warmed your insides. it made you feel like you were the main character of a love drama of some sort.

#alexia putellas #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #caroline graham hansen #caroline graham hansen x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #in sickness in health

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Post NaNoWriMo - Now What?

So if you've only been loosely paying attention, the NaNoWriMo organization has collapsed in a controversy of mismanagement, lack of oversight, abusive forum moderation and a whole host of issues that's resulted in souring the whole thing for a great deal of people. While the spirit of NaNoing will probably continue, a lot of people understandably don't want anything to officially do with the organization anymore.

But you - like I have - still think NaNoWriMo has been very useful to get writing done. Here's some ideas on how to keep going.

How to Get Started

Think Local - All those places you used for NaNo events, libraries, schools, cafes, etc - may be more than willing to launch something similar with enough interest. Just because it won't have the NaNoWriMo name slapped on it doesn't meant it can't continue. My local library has started a monthly write-in event, for example.

Take the Initiative - If you know of a group that you usually NaNo with, it's never too late or early to reach out to them about create an alternative plan. You probably aren't the only one thinking about it!

Talk to your (former) ML - Many Municipal Liaisons I know feel burned by NaNo and won't join it again, but they did love running the event. My local ML is continuing our group under a different name, and yours might appreciate getting assistance or sharing resources about how to run a month-long writing event if you ask.

Find Your People - If you're in school, new to an area, or just not good at reaching out, I feel you. But if you do nothing, you get nothing. Reach out to people you know. Online Discord or Zoom meetings can work just as well as in-person events if you're too remote or broke to meet.

What to Use to Get Started

Shut up and Write provides quick and easy ways to find local groups or form your own to carry the write-in momentum all year round.

MyWriteClub copies the writing tracking method of NaNoWriMo to keep track of your wordcount.

Pacemaker Planner offers multiple ways to track your writing.

Regular old Excel. Or LibreOffice if you'd prefer to wash your hands of Microsoft. It's not as exciting, but a regular spreadsheet with an AutoSum of your daily progress can work just as well as a fancy website.

You can keep going with the NaNo energy without the official name. My local library has started a monthly write-in, and I know many people who have found success with Shut Up and Write. Look into what works for you!

#NaNoWriMo #writing groups #it's always okay to NaNo without NaNo

[senseearly]

The panels of Mithrun's squad caring, in their own little ways, for Mithrun are so important to me.

Much like Kabru, they don't have to go beyond what was asked of them. They just needed to follow orders; they needed to make sure he stays well and alive; they needed to fulfill the mission. And yes, they do all of these.

And yet:

They didn't need to do all of those. Lycion telling Kabru to give Mithrun space. Cithis wanting Kabru to keep talking so Mithrun has to hear it. Everyone's suggestions of what Mithrun can still do and can still like. With the demon gone, their duties are over.

Yet they stand by him.

Without having to put it onto words, the snippets of the Canaries with Mithrun do show that they have a close bond with each other. We're not exactly sure how they made those bonds, how long it even took to cultivate, but fact of the matter is that they do care for him.

And Mithrun knows it. And that's so, so important.

The thing about Mithrun right now is that it's not clear (at least to me) if he right now is able to reciprocate that level of care. It's clear that Mithrun cared a lot about his former companions, enough that he shared the vision of his dream and the dungeon with them.

And the demon ate that desire. Which explains their eventual disappearance in the dungeon...and having no mention from Mithrun of what happened to them.

(If you asked me, they either died from trying to stop Mithrun or from any attempts to escape. But that's a story for another day)

You can even say that the demon totally ate Mithrun's desire for genuine companionship, something that he sought dearly through his beloved and his friends. Which explains how Mithrun is just totally apathetic to most people that his perception/description of them is muddled.

But does that mean Mithrun is incapable of caring for people? I don't think so.

The thing that is so intersting to Mithrun is that he acknowledges that the demon ate his desires, and that the only thing left with him is his desire to kill demon (but is actually a desire to just be completely eaten). Those are true. But his desire for him to try is still there, and I think that's one of the reasons why Mithrun recovered enough to go back to the Canaries, and to stand up when the demon was truly defeated.

And like what Kabru said, Mithrun can still have new desires. They may not be permanent, they may come and go, but the possibility is there, so I think in the future, Mithrun may have the desire again to care for his companions. Especially since he knows they do care for him a lot.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #mithrun of the house of kerensil #canaries #lycion #otta #fleki #pattadol #cithis #this all started from that protective lycion panel #he was ready to push kabru off lmao #one would say cithis was genuinely curious #but i interpret it as her way of reaching for any other possible means to help mithrun #she's exhausted everything she knows #it's time to see what others have to say that could help their captain #i think they're an interesting bunch #i just love them

[kanelia]

I gotta say this because it's been bugging me: I feel like some Jewish bloggers on tumblr are playing oppression olympics. They talk about how they're so terrified every day because they're Jewish and I just don't buy it.

I have always been open about me being Jewish, and have not hesitated to talk about it when it comes up naturally in conversation (ex: i went to a vegan restaurant with friends who were hindu and ex muslim and we were chatting about different religious dietary restrictions). Yeah there's a stupid encampment on my campus, but I haven't even had reason to go near it and don't plan on going looking for trouble.

I am not living every day scared of antisemitism because it's unreasonable. I haven't been harassed for it at alll, and I'm not narcissistic enough to think that random people I pass in my daily life care about me.

You are from the USA, I assume? Quite a few Jewish bloggers on this site are actual Israelis or people whose relatives live in Israel. I'm sorry, but it always makes me scoff when Americans say stuff like this because it is solely from the American point of view.

You live in a big, powerful country with an ocean between it and its enemies. These people live in a small country surrounded by a lot bigger enemies that have told for decades they want to see it destroyed. About 3 million of them are Mizrahi Jews who have no other place to go. They might see a lot more antisemitism in their daily lives than you.

You have not actually engaged the anti-Israel crowd, but still, you seem to understand why it would not be a good idea? I wonder why if you are not scared or even worried about the possibility of antisemitism.

Asking for sources and reminding people about historical facts is not "looking for trouble". When I dare to do just that, I instantly start receiving accusations, violent fantasies, death wishes, and threats. I do know people are more scared of admitting they have believed lies than accidentally supporting something evil, but in their messages, this crowd clearly assumes I am Jewish, and it is what fuels their hatred. I brush these messages off, but I can not imagine how terrifying they must be for a Jewish person receiving them. Even without the overgenerational trauma.

My point is that, of course, you do not spot antisemitism if you never challenge these people or actually pay attention to what they are saying. I am not an Israeli or even Jewish and even I am disturbed by the rhetoric, disinformation, and fanaticism I have seen because I recognise it from history and understand it has led to bad things before. Even more shockingly, people sending these messages are not some far-right nutcases, but people who think they are in it for human rights.

Like i have said before, I dont think all these people actually want Jewish people hurt, but they sit there watching and listening to some fanatic say "globalise intifada" and "Zionists are behind everything" and instead of thinking they just clap their hands like trained seals because they are too stupid or uneducated to understand the meaning of the words they are endorsing. These are young people who supposedly have a higher education, who are future teachers, lawyers, and doctors. How come they are so easily manipulated and radicalised? What will the future hold with them in charge? The thought is terrifying, and not just for the Jews.

#anon ask #leftist antisemitism #antisemitism

[kokonqui]

Walks in, people are really doing the “my white man has done nothing wrong in the narrative ever because he is autistic and autistic people can do nothing wrong actually” with Dungeon meshi

Read down below for my thoughts on people pulling this shit

Before I start, maybe pick up a book from school and practice how to read a narrative and learn content analysis,

it’ll really help because I don’t know what the hell else to say to people who are bad at reading subtext and putting context into practice at this point

I see the sentiment of “Kabru is actually evil because he actively murders people-“ as if the story isn’t actually like super nuanced and complex in its’ dynamics between races

and y’all can only really see a man that has personally gone through nothing but tragedy have a proper reaction to not having that tragedy handled properly and go “because he is a brown man he is inherently violent and therefore bad for my white man because of these story beats” with the type of stupid white person reaction.

The subtext went out the window huh, he gave the viewer ample context and reason as to why it happened he was going to kill the body retriever group, WHO WAS TRYING TO SAY TO HIM THAT THEY WERE GOING TO MUG HIM. AND KILL HIM AND SPLIT THE MONEY THEY MADE FROM GAMING A SYSTEM THEYVE BEEN EXPLOITING, WHICH HE DIDN’T DO.

Dying to monsters is one thing but someone like a retriever artificially upping the amount of people who die in a dungeon while also actively disrespecting the rules that the dungeon has by doing that fits perfectly into Kabru’s moral compass and motivation. Do you think that wouldn’t bother him? Sure, he has learning to do himself in regards to monsters and all, but do people really think he’s a monster actively incapable of change, when he’s stated in text that he believes himself to be a monster due to the things that have happened to him? Do you think he doesn’t blame himself and have survivors guilt from what he went through? Or do we think because Kabru lies and he warps and he cheats only to start realizing that the Kabru we’re shown doesn’t even know where he himself starts or ends. This is not trying to justify his actions. I am explaining his thinking. Of course He’d kill the retrievers.

And I think he would kill the Canaries if he had the chance to. I think the Retrievers were an active stand in for his feelings towards the Canaries.

When you build a life speaking lies after your previous status quo crumbles, how the fuck are you supposed to differentiate your own behaviors from the lies you grow into saying to make sure you don’t get close enough to people to be hurt as badly as he was as a kid. He is a sole survivor of a tragedy, and he reacts accordingly, and you all just want to antagonize him.

Did we forget who we’re talking about in comparison here, or are you guys that focused on justifying a man who clearly was used, exploited, and literally lost his mother because some group who thought themselves to be higher than due to their longer life cycles decided to destroy his whole life because it created a slight inconvenience

god you lot are truly fucking insufferable and can’t let characters be complex without woobifying or flanderizing them to be more digestible.

Let characters be complex.

You don’t have to like them all the time, You don’t have to agree with their actions.

You don’t have to agree with a character all the time for you to like a character’s writing.

#babble.com #dungeon meshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #kabru of utaya #Kabru #kabru dungeon meshi #can y’all shut up with your shitty ass fucking takes for a second #dunmesh spoilers #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers

[gittetj]

You've mentioned that you hc Reigen as ace, can you elaborate?

I agree w/ that but can't sort my thoughts out well enough to make a coherent analysis ;w;

Yeah, that's the vibe he gives me. No concrete "evidence" and I don't care all that much about the sexual orientations of fictional characters, but I guess for me, the headcanon comes down to three things:

1) Reigen is super disinterested in other people being attracted to each other. I feel like there are several small examples of this, but first one that comes to mind is that case with the esper who can astral project and uses it to stalk his neighbor. When they discover this, Reigen has such a non-reaction. I've seen a lot of people bring up these panels

which, yeah, but when they find the culprit, Reigen also doesn't express much of an opinion. It's just "it's a stalker, stalking is bad and illegal, this is a job for the police." No more introspection from him, he immediately moves on, it doesn't interest him. Mob is the one doing all the reacting.

2) Reigen never resorts to flirting despite how he's known for bullshitting his way through anything else to complete a job. Like, no matter how horny Studio Bones is for the guy, they can't change this. He could deliberately capitalize on the fact that a considerable amount of his income comes from massaging middle-aged ladies who find him attractive, but he doesn't. It's accidental. It does not even seem like something Reigen thinks about.

3) Reigen's a self-conscious person, yet doesn't act like it bothers him that he's seemingly never been in a relationship before. He explicitly has a crisis over being lonely in the confession arc, but it's about friends and connections and doing something meaningful with his life. Romantic relationships don't factor into it, even though it easily could, considering it has great thematic relevance for Mob who spends the entire story being in love. Not that you can't fall in love with someone if you're ace, this goes a little bit into aro territory I guess, but either way.. it just gives me that vibe. The indifference. I mean, even in chapter 99 when Mob point-blank asks Reigen for advice about Tsubomi, Reigen first asks Serizawa, then looks it up on his phone, exactly like he would with any other topic he doesn't know jack shit about.

Also, at the end of the scene, he muses about what's important in a relationship, and his conclusions just.. don't sound like he's talking about romance? To me?

I don't know, that entire scene gives me flashbacks to being younger and not yet knowing what asexuality (or aromanticism) is and having to navigate conversations like that without giving away that you fundamentally can't relate to this thing everyone else is so preoccupied with.

Them's my takes, I don't have much else to say about it.

#I remember a million years ago I set out to write an ace reigen post bc someone else asked me about it and now I guess I did #mp100 meta #reigen arataka #mob psycho 100 #replies

[adreamemporium]

My humble opinion about CCXP Mexico panels.

I was there in both stages and… yeah, it wasn’t great.

(First of all, english isn’t my first language so if there’s a mistake at least I hope you all understand what I’m saying lol)

Thunder stage was quite good honestly, the host and the questions were good and the cast were having fun. Ewan was quite comfortable and I saw him more relaxed than in Brazil. The only thing I wish it was different was that the exclusive material was only a bts and not a new trailer.

Omelete stage? Well… I wish I have gone to the Thunder stage before and have a better view for the panel instead of being there. I couldn’t hear anything, the audio wasn’t good and with all the screaming it was almost impossible for me to understand anything. I was behind the cast so I didn’t see their faces either and I couldn’t say if they were uncomfortable or Ewan at least. Their team (managers I think? People from HBO latam too I think) was sitting just behind them and they were smiling so I thought everything was going well. Now that I have seen the interview in YouTube, I’m glad I didn’t understand a damn thing because that was a really cringe interview. The hosts took all the time with their super long questions, even the girl from Brazil asked what I feel it was almost the same as something she asked in December, the comment about Mexican girls wanting to keep Ewan in their homes or whatever the hell that guy said… Maybe the only question I liked was the one about Succession and that was it.

But again, I feel the event in general has a lot of things to fix if they want to continue organizing this here.

First of all, they announced five days before the whole thing they were coming (and tbh I was following the official pages because I suspected there was a chance for them to come and by the time they announced it I was thinking I was wrong) so a lot of people that don’t live here in Mexico City didn’t have enough time or money to come. In that announcement they said their panels were during the last day, Sunday, which was quite strange if you ask me, but all of us that had the chance to go bought a ticket. Two days after this, they announced they were gonna have limited photo ops on Friday, so we were all frustrated because it was a different day than the panels. But okay, some of us bought a second ticket for that day. I’m not gonna lie guys, two or three hours after the announcement they erased the post about the photo ops without saying a damn thing! I was trying to organize that day because of my work so I went back to the post on Instagram (it was a gallery) and their post about the HOTD photo ops announcement was gone! Not a single word, just gone. I kept asking what was happening and they never answered and I wasn’t the only one. They even hide comments asking them to say something, that if it was cancelled it was okay, but we only wanted some clarification to know what was happening because in my case, for example, I was planning the whole day after asking for a special permission to my boss (she is a lovely person so I didn’t have any problem at all thank god). Even the people in the damn place didn’t know anything about those photo ops that were free but limited when I asked them in person on Thursday and, in that moment, I knew it was going to be a mess. The thing is they never answered and since they didn’t say anything, I chose not going on Friday and basically the money I used for that day was thrown away. At the end, I know the photo ops were yesterday and the winners were chosen during a contest or something like that and it was right before the Omelete stage panel.

But talking about the whole event, all the international guests were announced on April, one month before the event and they began promoting this since January I think. Only Giancarlo Esposito was announced mid February, so again, we didn’t know if it was gonna be a good quality event or not and we were suspicious so a lot of us chose to wait and see who were coming. I think the last announcement were Eve, Ewan, Tom and Steve days before the beginning of the event. Also, some of the international guest had normal photo ops, buying ticket and all, but the prices were announced two days before the event… How could it be possible that hours before the beginning of the convention no one knew anything about this? Everyone was buying their tickets hours before the event, guys.

I don’t know, if you ask me, the whole event was messy since the very beginning. I know it was the first CCXP here in Mexico but it could have been better…

Finally, about the HOTD cast I just wanna say that they were quite happy even with this whole mess. Ewan was super nice with the fans he met, Tom too, about Eve and Steve I don’t know if someone saw them, but again, Tom and Ewan were super nice with the fans. I was fortunate to meet them on Friday when I was working in the same place they were shooting press and Ewan was super nice and lovely when we talked (we took a picture 🫰🏻) and every story I have read about fans meeting him is exactly the same: he was kind, attentive and lovely and he asked to almost all of us if we were gonna be at ccxp). During the Thunder stage panel Tom even said, and I’m quoting “I fucking love Mexico” after all of we were screaming at some point lol. Eve was super emotional with the crowd and kept saying “Viva Mexico!”, Steve and Ewan also were quite happy and excited if you ask me. Tom and Ewan were dancing with the mariachi, Steve saying “chingon” and tbh I could continue. Again, the Omelete stage was messy but I don’t think that changes the whole thing for them and it looks like they really loved their experience in Mexico. :)

Ps. I mean, look at Ewan! He even bought the Mexican jersey and it is adidas of course lol! And this is not my picture btw!

#ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney #eve best #steve toussaint #house of the dragon #ccxp México

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - drinking,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname if your confused🩷

Chapter 8

After Christmas we did something exciting every night, usually beginning after midnight. Sometimes Matt rented either the Memphian or the Malco theater to watch movies. Other times he rented the entire Rainbow Skating Rink, the infamous roller rink I’d heard so much about.

My first night there I was lacing up my skates when the boys asked me, “Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure,” I said.

“But do you know how to skate?” they persisted.

I got the message real fast when a box of knee pads was passed around. This was not your ordinary around the rink to organ music skating. The idea here was to keep your bones intact.

I wobbled onto the rink only to wobble off. I wasn’t about to stay on that floor after seeing the determined looks on the other skaters’ faces. They made the Roller Derby look mild. From the sideline, I watched them rounding the rink, adjusting their jackets and shirts so they weren’t too tight and checking that their arms and legs were securely padded.

Then Matt skated into their midst, calling out, “Okay, everybody. Y’all clear the way on the sidelines. I don’t want anybody hurt over there. Honey, why don’t you get on the other side there with Louise [Gene Smith’s wife]. The rest of you, get your asses somewhere else.” They all started laughing, and he said, “Okay, let’s go!”

About twenty-five skaters locked hands, forming what they called a whip. Skating abreast, they began circling the rink, building up speed. The objective of the game was to remain unscathed at speeds of over ten miles per hour. It could be very dangerous if you were to lose your balance or if you were at the tail end, when, by turning quickly, they all “cracked the whip.”

There were a lot of falls, but despite the danger, Matt seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I noticed that whenever someone was hurt, he was the first to see if they were all right and to decide if they should continue to play.

I still don’t know how anybody kept from getting seriously injured, yet no one complained and most of them were even willing to do it again the next night. It was rough, but as Matt put it, “If you’re man enough to get out there, then you better be man enough to take the licks.”

New Year’s Eve was approaching. Matt told Alan to rent the Manhattan Club for the evening and to invite about two hundred people, Matt’s friends and the presidents and other members of his fan clubs.

Although I was excited about the party, I couldn’t help thinking that after New Year’s Eve I would have to leave. Matt kept telling me not to think about it. I noticed that whenever I mentioned a problem to him he’d just say, “It’ll all work out, don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough to think about without having to worry about that.”

He always avoided problems. If I was disturbed or depressed, or if I felt we were becoming distant and wanted to get closer by talking it out, he avoided me or told me my timing was bad. There was never a good time.

Once I reproached him about the attention he was lavishing on the girlfriend of one of the regulars. She was very attractive, about my height, with black hair and a nice figure. She had come into the kitchen, where several of us were sitting, and Matt, who was wearing dark sunglasses, began making comments like, “Boy, it’s getting warm in here. Anybody else warm?”

I was so upset I left the room. I waited for him to go upstairs, then followed shortly behind him. “Matt, I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Sure, Honey, what is it?”

“I saw the way you were eyeing that girl. It upset me.”

“Look, woman,” he said, losing his temper. “No one tells me who I can look at and who I can’t. Besides, your imagination’s getting carried away. I’ve seen her ass around here long before today.”

With that I stomped out, slamming the bedroom door. I felt betrayed that he’d even desire another woman and was annoyed that he’d never admit it. I became obsessed and watched what Matt liked, what attracted him, trying to be everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and more.

The New Year’s Eve party at the Manhattan Club started around 10 p.m., but Matt timed our arrival a few minutes before midnight. We just had time to order double screwdrivers when the countdown began. Then we all sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

As people shouted “Happy New Year!” Matt pulled me close and said, “Baby, I don’t want you to go back. You’re staying here. We’ll call your parents in the morning.”

I was in such a state of ecstasy that I didn’t notice what I was drinking: four double screwdrivers, all drunk through a straw. After one double, I was feeling high; after four, I was reeling. I went into the ladies’ room with Louise and stayed there for what seemed like hours, swaying back and forth in the stall, trying to get myself together.

When we finally returned to the table, I tried to act as if everything was okay, but Matt took one look at me and said, “Baby, we better get you home. You’re in no condition to be here.” He asked his old friend George Klein, the Memphis disc jockey, if he would take me home.

I spent most of the ride back to Graceland with my head out the window. George and his date walked me to the door, where we said good night, and I let myself in.

Gripping the banister, I slowly climbed the white stairs, shedding my clothing as I went: my jacket, purse, shoes, and blouse left in a long trail up the steps. By the time I reached the bedroom I was wearing only my bra and panties. I collapsed on the bed and passed out.

A few hours later I heard Matt tiptoe into the room and come over to me. His condition was not much better than mine. I could make out his silhouette against the ceiling above me. I didn’t stir. Gently, he took off the rest of my clothes. Then he kissed me and kissed me over and over. This night we almost went too far. His vow was nearly broken. My passion had gotten to him and under the influence of alcohol, he weakened. Then, before I knew what happened, he withdrew saying, “No. Not like this.” It had to be special, just as he’d always planned.

I have to admit that, at that moment i didn’t care if it was special and I didn’t care what he’d vowed. I didn’t care, in fact, what he wanted at all. I only knew I wanted him.

The next morning my head throbbed with a terrible hangover. I felt ashamed and embarrassed—and yet not at all sorry about what we’d done. He was a little closer to being all mine.

The moment of truth came when we called my father in Germany. Matt was on the extension in his office and I was on another phone somewhere else in the house. Though the connection to Wiesbaden was filled with static, there was no mistaking my father’s words.

“Young lady, I will not go through this conversation again. We made an agreement. You were to leave there on the second of January. You’ve got one day left and you’d better be on that flight!”

Matt interjected, “Captain, sir, if she could just stay a couple more days. I have to be back in L.A. soon, and it would be nice—”

“Matt, I can’t do that. She has to be back in school and that was the deal. I’m sorry. y/n y/ln, are you there?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“We’ll be at the airport. You know the time; we’ll see you then.”

I was furious. I flew into Matt’s office where, sitting behind his desk, he was just hanging up.

“I hate them. I hate them both,” I yelled like a spoiled child. “Why are they stopping us? They just want me home to babysit, to take care of the kids, that’s all.”

Matt’s face was flushed with anger. “We made a goddamn agreement—who the hell does he think he is, talking like that on the goddamn phone—him and his military upbringing.”

He grabbed the phone and called down to the kitchen, demanding, “Where’s my dad! He down there? Tell him to come upstairs to the office.”

Within seconds James was at the door. “What is it, Son?”

“Goddamn Captain y/ln,” he shouted. “We just called to see if y/nn could stay a few more days and he comes off with this cocky attitude and refuses with his jargon about making agreements.”

“Now calm down, Son. It ain’t that bad. He was probably just concerned about her being home in time for school.”

“School, what the hell do I care about school?” Matt snapped, ignoring James’s efforts to soothe him. “Put her into school here, that’ll solve everything. She doesn’t need school. Hell, they don’t teach you anything nowadays anyway.”

“Well, Son, she’s gonna have to go back, there ain’t no two ways about it, give or take a day or two.”

“Goddamn, Dad, you’re not helpin’ matters any,” Matt said, but he was beginning to calm down. He sat back in his big desk chair and swiveled it around to face the window, then gazed out toward the pastures. Finally he turned around and announced that he had a plan.

Matt’s strategy called for me to return to Germany and to arrive in good spirits, then to concentrate on doing well in school so that my parents wouldn’t be able to use my poor grades as an excuse for not letting me return. Matt wanted me to finish high school in Boston and to that end he would make arrangements for me to return as soon as possible.

Germany

Although Matt said that I should greet my parents with a friendly smile, from the moment I got off the plane, my attitude was one of defiance. I now believed that my parents were a threat to my future happiness. I didn’t realize that their fears and concerns were entirely reasonable. All that mattered to me was what Matt and I wanted, and no one was going to stand in our way.

The weather was cold and dreary, which certainly didn’t help my mood. I walked through customs to find my parents waiting. Noting my attitude, their expressions were cool, their welcome stiff. No loving arms wrapped around me, no loving words greeted me. Only my father’s abrupt order, “Let’s go.”

The drive back to Wiesbaden seemed longer than forty-five minutes. I sat in the backseat in icy silence. No one mentioned my request to stay at Graceland.

“All in all, did you have a nice time?” Dad ventured.

“Yes,” I replied, looking out the window at the clusters of trees bare from the harsh winter.

“Did Matt like your present?” Mother asked hopefully.

“Yes,” I assured her. “He loved it.”

“Was it as cold in Boston as it gets here?” Dad asked, keeping the conversation light, trying to make me open up and talk.

“No, it’s colder here,” I replied sharply, referring to both the weather and my attitude. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror and surprisingly, Dad looked away rather than reacting to my cutting remark.

I knew I was pushing my luck with them, but I couldn’t suppress my feelings and pretend that everything was all right. I was so deeply in love that chitchat seemed pointless—as did everything except for Matt. I remembered how he had held me before we said goodbye, with such emotion and need that nothing could keep me away from him. How could I explain these adult feelings to my parents who, I thought, could never understand and would think me silly or just infatuated?

When we arrived home Dad said, “Well, you’ve got school tomorrow, so try to get as much rest as you can tonight.”

Mom added, “You should have dinner and get right to bed.”

Did they both honestly think that I could slip back into the routine of ordinary life?

I rebelled against going to school. I skipped classes, went to town, and downed a few beers with whoever I could get to join me. My attitude worsened along with my grades.

My parents were as confused as any caring parents would be, hoping the problem would eventually go away. But I didn’t make it easy for them. What had started out as a simple introduction to the world’s greatest rock-and-roll star had turned into a nightmare for them.

Matt began calling me almost immediately, and we’d talk for hours. My parents heard me whispering and giggling till three in the morning and wondered what on earth we could be talking about for so long. Nothing really—yet it seemed like everything.

I began to reveal to my mother that Matt and I loved each other and longed to be together. Finally one day I summoned the courage to tell her that Matt wanted me to finish school in Boston. Her response: an unqualified no. She felt it could wait until my father’s tour of duty was over. That would be the end of summer, she said, and there was no need for me to return to Matt sooner.

“But Mother,” I pleaded, “you don’t understand. He wants me there with him.”

“Why you?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Why can’t he find someone his own age? You’re only sixteen. What is this man doing to our family?”

She buried her face in her hands and began crying.

I did feel sorry for her. We were always close, she was always there for me, but this time she just didn’t understand. I hated seeing her in pain, but nothing seemed more important to me than Matt. Not even my mother.

“He’s not anything like you imagine,” I said, “and he needs me, Mother. I won’t get hurt. Please talk to Dad.”

Slowly she raised her head and looked at me.

“y/nn, I’d never forgive myself if I let you go and if you came back to us with a broken heart. You’re so young! You have no idea what lies ahead of you. All you know is you’re in love. Do you know how difficult that is to fight?” She sighed. “I wouldn’t wish this on any parent.”

She brushed away her tears and after a moment said, “All right, I’ll talk to your father, but not just yet. It’s still too soon.”

I gave her a big hug and whispered, “Thank you, Mother. I know you can do it. I love you.”

Now I had to wait for my mother to intercede. I knew how much my father was against the idea. My parents still didn’t really know Matt’s intentions toward me. They only knew what I had told them. But they had also read in the newspapers that Matt was dating every one of the female costars in his movies, so naturally they were suspicious.

One day on the phone I told Matt, “If you want me to come back and go to school, you’re going to have to talk to my father yourself.”

“Put him on,” Matt replied. “I’m not MacArthur, but I can sure as hell try.”

Drawing on all of his charm, Matt assured my father that if I was permitted to move to Boston, I wouldn’t live with him at Graceland but with his dad, James, and his wife, Angela. Matt promised to enroll me in a good Catholic school—he’d choose it himself—and make sure I graduated. He said I’d always be chaperoned and that he’d care for me in every way. Declaring his intentions honorable, he swore that he loved and needed and respected me. In fact, he couldn’t live without me, he said, intimating that one day we’d marry.

This left my parents in a dilemma. If Matt were as sincere as he sounded, there was a chance that our relationship might work out. But if it didn’t work out, they ran the risk of my returning to them disillusioned and brokenhearted. If they refused to let me go, I might never forgive them and I would bitterly regret this unfulfilled love for the rest of my life. In that light, there was little they could do but say yes, and eventually they did.

In truth, I was as mystified as my parents were about why Matt wanted me to come live with him. I think he was attracted by the fact that I had a normal, stable childhood, and that I was very responsible, having helped my parents raise my younger brothers and sister. I was more mature at sixteen than I was at fourteen, when he’d met me, not only because I’d gone through the normal growing period, but also because I’d experienced the pain of living without him for those two years.

Most of all, he knew he could depend on me. I wasn’t interested in a career, in Hollywood, or in anything else that would draw my attention away from him. I also had all of the physical attributes that Matt liked, the fundamentals he could use in turning me into his ideal woman. In short, I had everything that Matt had been looking for in a woman: youth and innocence, total devotion, and no problems of my own. And I was hard to get.

I intended to do whatever I had to to hold him, because if he had ever sent me home, it would have meant not only that I’d been wrong in going to him, but that my parents had been wrong for having permitted it. I firmly resolved to make our relationship work, no matter what.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - do you guys like longer chapters like this?🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: sabine and ezra finally share their first kiss. unfortunately, it's on a broadcast to every rebel cell in the galaxy. chapter word count: 1265 a/n: i'm back! this one's gonna be a multichapter fic, so stick around for chapter 2 coming soon! shoutout to the lovely and encouraging @kanerallels for betaing! taglist: @laughingphoenixleader  @accidental-spice  @kanerallels  @piraterefrigerator  @jedi-nurse  @dootchster  @lucasbridger  @redroverrider  @light-umbra  @commander-tech  @jedimandalorian  @notanodinarygirl  {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Ch. 1 In Which Sabine is Ezra's Best Friend

 Sabine had been looking differently at Ezra the last few days. She wondered if he noticed. He wasn't that same kid they'd rescued on Lothal all those years ago. He'd grown into a fine young man— and to think, all it took for her to notice was almost losing him forever.

 The minute she found out about his plan to sacrifice himself, a number of words to describe him came to mind. Idiotic. Brave. Reckless. Noble. Stupid. Heroic.

 He'd been adamant that the rebellion could stand him, that Lothal would be fine without him, that the rest of their family would be okay without him. In a way, he was right. The Rebellion could get on without him. Lothal could get on without him. The rest of the Ghost Crew would find a way to get on without him.

 But she couldn't.

 She made him promise that he wouldn't go through with it unless it's what it absolutely came to, and they spent the next two days working tirelessly to come up with a plan that would save Lothal without Sabine losing her best friend.

 And somehow, it worked.

 Ezra now stood before his people as a hero, in a ceremony they threw in honor of all the valiant heroes who'd liberated them. A lot of members of their squadron had been asked to give a speech. Sabine had narrowly escaped the draft on that, but Ezra hadn't been so lucky. 

 "I really do wish I could thank every one of you," Ezra was saying, standing before not only most of the inhabitants of the planet, but also the hundreds of rebel cells watching via underground holonet, "old Joe, Jai, Ryder, that old lady I pickpocketed a week before joining the fight— but, uh, most of all, I'd like to thank my family."

 He paused for a second to collect his thoughts, a new record for the longest time Ezra could go without talking.

 "We wouldn't be free right now if it wasn't for the sacrifices along the way," Ezra said, "and I know my parents and Kanan would be proud of us."

 Sabine stood close enough to see the tears welling up in Ezra's eyes, but he pulled himself together pretty well as he turned to their captain.

 "Hera, a long time ago you told me that if all I do is fight for myself, then my life is worth nothing. Thank you for showing me something worth fighting for."

 Sabine didn't need to be standing near Hera to know that tears were gathering in her eyes as well.

 Ezra then turned to Zeb and Chopper.

 "Zeb, you're the big brother I never wanted— and still don't want— but always needed. Chopper, though, I could live without."

 Chopper beeped passive-aggressively a few meters away.

 "At least he mentioned you, little bucket of bolts," Sabine thought, "not that he needs to talk about me. Why should he?"

 "And most of all," Ezra said, and he turned to her with a smile on his face as his eyes somehow found hers, drowning her in their depth and intensity, "my best friend, Sabine." His tone lowered, as though, despite the fact that his words were being broadcast across the galaxy, he was only speaking to her as he shook his head and added, "I couldn't've done it without you."

 It was just a simple sentence, but those words clacked around in Sabine's mind for the rest of his speech, even as he turned back and addressed the crowd gathered before them.

 "My best friend."

 She'd known Ezra was her best friend, but she'd never assumed she was his. 

 "My best friend."

 Ezra couldn't go more than ten minutes without making a new friend.

 "My best friend."

 Surely, in all the hundreds of people he called "friend," shouldn't there have been one closer to him?

 "My best friend."

 But no, Ezra had looked her in the eyes and told her and the entire galaxy that she was his best friend.

 "My best friend."

 Still, she needed confirmation.

 As he wrapped up and the crowd began cheering, Sabine pulled him aside, not entirely out of view of the people below, but at the very least out of their primary focus.

 "Did you really mean that?" Sabine asked.

 "That refreshments will be served in the square as soon as we wrap up?" Ezra asked, restating the last words of his speech, "of course."

 "Not that," Sabine took a deep breath, "when you said I'm your best friend."

 "Absolutely," Ezra smiled, then quickly followed with, "I mean, if that's okay with you."

 "Of course," Sabine said, unsure what to call the feeling in the pit of her stomach, "you're my best friend too."

 His eyes washed over her in rich blue waves, powerful enough in small doses, but more than enough to knock her off her feet if she wasn't careful— and today, she wasn't. He started to turn and walk away, but she put a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes overtook hers again.

 "I'm really glad you didn't sacrifice yourself," Sabine said.

 He smiled. "Me too."

 In that moment, all there was in the galaxy was her and Ezra. Instead of taking her hand off his shoulder, she stood there. After a moment, Ezra placed his hand on her shoulder— no, not on her shoulder, on the back of her neck— and he pulled her toward himself. 

 She could've pulled away. She could've punched him in the gut and run. Instead she leaned closer, ensuring that his lips landed on hers. 

 Maybe it was a moment of weakness. Maybe it was all the pent up emotions from the past week— loss, hope, triumph, regret— finding an outlet for release. Maybe Sabine had finally just realized how much Ezra really meant to her, and she to him.

 Either way, she was kissing Ezra Bridger, and in that moment she held zero regrets about it.

 She'd always wondered at how Ezra could ramble, always saying so much in a short span of time. It was no surprise that his kiss did the same, sending a message worth a million rambled words, one she was more than enthusiastic to hear.

 Time stood still and so did they, afraid that if they moved for even a second, the world would move around them, and this perfect kiss would end.

 She couldn't tell which of them sighed a soft "oh," as he pulled her just a touch closer, just like in all the old holofilms.

 Holofilms.

 Crap.

 These speeches were being recorded on holofilms.

 And broadcast across the entire rebel holonet.

 And there was no way the cameras weren't picking this up.

 Sabine pulled away from him quickly, trying her hardest to regain her breath as her hands and lips removed themselves from her best friend. For a second, he looked confused and almost a bit hurt, but he regained himself in an instant, his face turning a shade of red Sabine hadn't known was possible.

 They both turned back to look at the crowds over the edge of the balcony, careful to leave an obvious amount of space between each other. Still facing forward, Ezra leaned his head toward her and whispered, "do you think they noticed?"

 Down below, a holo projector of their video stream, with text below it that said "INSTANT REPLAY," showed a recording of their kiss, blown up to about seventy five times larger.

 "Yeah Ezra," Sabine said, using a facepalm as a guise for hiding her blushing face from any further holocam recordings, "I think they noticed."

#sabezra #fanfic #fanfiction #kazzy writes #sabine wren #ezra bridger #canon divergence #cw kissing #otp: im counting on you #star wars rebels

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Do you have any advice for talking to people who aren't well-informed about what is going on in Gaza? One of my really close friends for over 10 years now has really conservative parents and she just :// she just kind of believes a lot of the conservative stuff they say and she hears others around her say. After the attacks of Oct. 7th, I think I remember her saying that the Bible says we should always stand with Israel which is just so :((

I want to inform her but I'm unsure of how to, and if it would even work. I'm scared of her response because I really love her and we've been so close for so long but I don't feel comfortable with her being so uninformed and I'm scared of her response. Do you have any advice and even pray for me to be given wisdom on how to handle this with care and love? Thank you ^^

Hey there! Thank you for your courage in even wanting to start a hard conversation with a friend about this vital topic. I'm going to offer some ideas, but ultimately you know this friend better than I could, so if something I say doesn't seem like it'll work with your situation, adapt or discard it.

I also invite others to add on ideas or encouragement. If you know of resources that are helpful for talking about Palestine with folks who are steeped in pro-Israel propaganda, please share!

___

Before delving into this topic with her, start by asking yourself what you're hoping she'll unlearn and relearn. What's a reasonable goal to move her towards?

Chances are, she's not going to move from unquestioning support of Israel to "Decolonize Palestine" in a day!

Moving her towards a simple agreement that at least some of the things Israel does cannot be supported is a good first step, and even that may take time and patience.

Prepare yourself to be happy about even the smallest baby steps in opening her perspective. "Ceasefire now!" may be the bare minimum in what is ultimately needed for true justice for Palestine, but it is an important step. If you can make progress towards her agreeing with a simple ceasefire, that's worth celebrating.

You'll also want to think in advance about where you're hoping her changed perspective will take her. Do you see her on the front lines of protests and marches? Or will you be satisfied if she makes some changes in where she spends her money (boycotting Starbucks, McDonalds, etc.), doesn't shut down pro-Palestine comments, etc.?

Again, being realistic and celebrating even small changes is helpful to keep from frustrating yourself or her!

So...how do you start a conversation that leads to that?

Wait for a time when you both are fairly relaxed, and have enough time that conversation won't be rushed.

Prepare yourself to hear some resistance and possibly even some really crappy things regurgitated when you first broach the subject. Do your best to remain calm, and not to jump straight into correcting every little thing she says — I know how hard that can be, but if you have hope that she'll be open to changing perspective, you want to establish yourself as a space where she feels safe enough to unpack the bullshit without being shut down at every turn.

For instance, in the scenario where she said "the Bible says we should always stand with Israel," responding immediately with "no it doesn't!!" would shut down conversation.

Instead, you might start with open-ended questions the two of you can explore together: "I wonder what the Bible means when it talks about Israel. Would the biblical authors recognize today's Israel as being the Israel they were talking about? / Is the Israel of today the same as the Israel of the Bible?" "What does it mean to you to 'stand with Israel'?" "Does that have to require sending them extreme military weapons?"

As you ask questions together, focus on finding common ground with her:

Does your friend agree that innocent people should be kept as safe as possible in military conflicts?

Does she agree that people of different faiths and cultures should be able to coexist?

I appreciate this post's advice on utilizing instead of challenging someone's deeply held values to guide them out from their rightwing radicalized views.

If your friend seems unwilling to talk about this...

It's okay to table the conversation if things start to get heated or she's shutting down. Let he know this topic is deeply meaningful to you and that's why you want to talk about it with her, as a friend who means a lot to you as well.

If there have been times in the past where she's realized what her family says about a topic has been anywhere from somewhat misinformed to utter bullshit, you might be able to remind her of that past time.

Do your best to make it clear that you are not judging her for what she currently believes — we can't help what we're raised in! You're just hopeful that, like in those past situations with other topics, the two of you can talk things out.

Did realizing that she didn't have all the information on a topic help in the past? Maybe remind her of that too, and invite her to team up together in finding the missing information on this topic as well — which leads me to...

Come with resources.

For exploring those open-ending questions I brought up before, it'll help for you to be pretty well informed in advance both about current events and recent history, and about how Christian theology's been used to advance Israel's agenda.

...Or, if you think your friend would prefer to learn along the way with you, it'll be good for you to at least know of resources the two of you can look at together!

You don't have to have all the answers; you can tell her, "I don't know enough either yet. I'd love to learn together with you." Framing it as something mutual, rather than you lecturing her or assigning her homework or judging her current ignorance, might cultivate that space for mutual growth that will benefit you both!

So here are some resources I recommend:

For questions about theology, including disconnecting biblical Israel from modern Israel, I highly recommend Decolonizing Palestine: The Land, the People, the Bible (2023) by Christian Palestinian theologian Mitri Raheb. If you don't have time for a whole book, I summarized the thing in an article that takes about 30 minutes to read. .

Another, less academic / more storytelling-formatted book that pulls in perspectives from Jews and Muslims, Palestinians and non-Palestinians, queer folk and more, that I find super valuable in summing up a lot of the fraught history and unpacking propaganda around Israel that so many of us have been taught to take as given, is A Land with a People: Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism. .

Then there's keeping up with news using media outlets that don't sugarcoat Israel's violence. My personal favorite to listen to daily is Democracy Now!, which you can read/watch online or listen to as a podcast. A whole hour of news every day may be more than your friend can keep up with, however, so... .

...a briefer news option is @ So.informed on Instagram. Their posts sum up the big sweeping picture of what's going on, and help put it in context with accessible language. If your friend has Instagram, this could be a great source for her to start getting another perspective on what's going on. .

Similarly, @ letstalkpalestine is another Instagram account that explores history and current events in a succinct, accessible way.

One last thought: be ready to offer comfort.

It's hard to realize you've been misinformed about something important — especially when it's people close to you who've taught you what you thought was right. It takes a ton of courage and humility to realize where you need to change.

Your friend might become emotional about all this; that might look like grief, or rage, or even dissociating, feeling numb. Be ready to offer comfort, to remind her that what she thought was not her fault — that we're all steeped in things we have to work to unlearn, and you're proud of her for being open to learning.

And again I'll mention that if things start getting intense, it's okay to take a break! You don't want either of you burning out halfway through. You can take this process one small step per day, or even per week.

This struggle for liberation and justice is a long one — it's been decades unfolding, and it'll take a long while more. It's urgent, yes, but at the same time, rushing your friend won't aid the effort. Patience is much more likely to bear fruit that lasts.

___

I hope this helps somewhat! I'll be holding you and your friend in my prayers.

May the Spirit of Justice guide your words and actions; may She guard you from frustration; may she open your friend to hearing you out and entering into conversation with you. <3

#dialogue tag #palestine #essays

[wistfulcynic]

matelotage me

for @gbweddingweek a short fic i originally wrote for a zine that never got off the ground. It was written before S2 and actually i think holds up pretty well to what happened in that season.

vaguely, it responds to the prompt "proposals"

a brisk 1.5k rated G | AO3

Stede and the crew in the dinghy rowing away from where they were marooned, towards the Republic of Pirates. Stede muses on how badly he's hurt Ed, Black Pete offers an idea.

-

At first, there was only silence. 

The silence of the sea, that is, not truly silence at all. Waves lapped against the side of the dinghy; oars splashed as they hit the water then sliced through it with a gentle swishing sound. The wind whistled, seagulls cawed, Stede grunted as he rowed, but within the dinghy the noiselessness was oppressive. It sat heavily on the sunburnt shoulders of Black Pete, Wee John, Oluwande, Roach, Buttons, and the Swede, as well as Stede’s own aching ones. 

None of them could say what might be the outcome of this plan of theirs, to head for the Republic of Pirates instead of back to the Revenge after Ed had—and Stede still couldn’t fully process the implications of this—left them marooned them on that spit of sand, presumably to die. None of them wanted to talk about it either, except, predictably, Pete, who broke the silence about an hour into their journey.

“I still think we should just go back to the ship, rescue our guys, and get the fuck out,” he declared, then raised his hands defensively in response to the chorus of groans. “What? We can’t trust Blackbeard anymore, he left us out there—” 

“We talked about this, Pete,” said Oluwande wearily. “This dinghy barely holds us, it’s not gonna manage with Jim and Frenchie and Lucius too.” 

“Well then maybe we steal another dinghy.” 

“That’s too complicated.”

“But Blackbeard—” 

“He must really be hurting.” 

Stede’s quiet statement ended the argument. As one, the crew turned to where he sat at the centre of their huddle, rowing steadily and with surprising endurance. Stede hadn’t said much since he’d found them, just listened to their tale with an open mind but an increasingly heavy heart. 

“He’s pushing away people who care about him,” Stede continued. “Isolating himself. He must be in a really bad way or he wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

Wouldn’t what? Betray Stede? As he, Ed, must have felt betrayed? Couldn’t abandon the crew as he must believe Stede had abandoned him? 

“He just wouldn’t,” Stede finished, lamely. “Not without a reason.” 

“Except… he totally did,” said Pete, oblivious to or choosing to ignore Olu’s attempts to shush him. “Out of nowhere, too, like one day he’s fine and the next—we’re marooned. What ‘reason’ could he have had for that?”

Oluwande glanced at Stede, just briefly but it was enough. Olu knew. Stede sighed. “It was because of me,” he said. “I hurt him.” His face crumpled as he remembered Ed’s joy at their planned escape to China. How must he have felt that night when Stede didn’t show up? How long had he waited? “I broke a promise to him. I didn’t think he would—at the time I thought he couldn’t actually want to… not with me… after the way I ruined things. I thought his life would be better if I weren’t in it. I thought he wouldn’t miss me.”  

“He did though,” said Olu quietly. “He missed you a lot.” 

“I broke his heart,” Stede whispered, “didn’t I?” 

“Yeah.” Olu’s voice held a wealth of sympathy. “I think you did.” 

“Broke his heart?” Pete’s expression progressed from confusion to disbelief to dawning comprehension, all within the space of an uncomfortable twenty seconds. “Wait… you mean… you and Blackbeard?” 

“Come on, man,” said Olu as the rest of the crew groaned. 

“Where’ve you been?” demanded Wee John. 

“It wasn’t exactly subtle,” Roach observed. 

“Well maybe I just had other things to think about,” grumbled Pete. “Some of us have personal lives, you know.” 

“All of us have personal lives, Pete!” snapped Oluwande. “We can still pay attention to what’s going on around us!” 

“All right, okay! Fine!” Pete held up his hands again. “Let’s just drop the entire subject.” He turned to Stede. “Listen, Captain, if it really is like that with you and Blackbeard then you shouldn’t have any trouble getting him to give us our guys back. You just have to, you know. Woo him a bit.” 

“Woo him,” repeated Stede. 

“Yeah,” said Pete. “Woo. Bring him a present or something. Tell him his hair looks nice.”

“Tell him ye appreciate his beard,” piped up Buttons. “Advise him tae grow it back.” 

“Compliment him on his fashion sense,” said the Swede. 

“Or his sword skills!” chimed in Roach. 

“All excellent suggestions, but if I’ve hurt Ed as badly as I think I have I doubt they’ll be enough,” said Stede. “I need some way to show him that I’m serious about wanting to mend things between us. That I’m not afraid of the future he wanted for us and that I want it too.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I need to show him that I love him as Ed, with or without the beard or the leather or any of the rest of it. Just as Ed.” 

“Well, if you feel that way about him, why don’t you offer him matelotage?” inquired Pete, in a tone that suggested this was the most obvious solution in the world. 

“Ooh, there’s a thought,” said Olu. 

“Matelotage means business,” Wee John agreed. 

“Matelotage?” Stede frowned. It seemed to him he’d heard that word before or possibly read it, but he couldn’t recall what it meant. “What’s that?” 

“Well,” said Pete, puffed up and very pleased to be the one to deliver this explanation. “Matelotage is when two pirates decide that they want to pledge their lives to each other. They have a ceremony, usually performed by the captain but I guess Buttons could do it for you—” 

“Aye, so I could and it’d be my pleasure, Cap’n!” 

“—where they promise to share their incomes and property, protect each other in battle, and be each other’s companion and support for the rest of their lives.”

Stede stopped rowing and laid down the oars. “So… it’s like marriage,” he ventured.  

“Er—yeah.” Pete nodded. “I never really thought about it that way but I guess it is.” 

“Ed and I could get married.” Stede turned this idea over in his mind and found that it enthralled him. If he and Ed were married then they could kiss each other again. They could kiss any time they wished! And more than just kissing! They could live together, adventure together, share everything with each other. They could share a bed. A bed where they could—well. They could do all the things that Stede’s eager imagination had been tormenting him with in fantasies both waking and asleep, from the moment he realised that what he felt for Ed was love. Stede felt his cheeks flush and immediately turned his thoughts elsewhere. A small dinghy in the middle of the ocean and surrounded by his crew was certainly neither the time nor the place. 

He and Ed could wake up together every morning, yes, that was the thing to think about. Thoughts of a bare-chested Ed with soft and sleepy eyes, morning sunlight in his hair, were quite stimulating enough actually, given the circumstances. 

Sleep together, wake together, live together. It sounded like heaven. Everything that had ever troubled him in his marriage to Mary—all that made him so uncomfortable in a married state—when he thought about those same things with Ed, they took on an entirely new and monumentally more appealing aspect. 

“We could get married,” he said again. 

He pictured Ed in a veil like the one Mary had worn, and—was that a thing in matelotage? It might not be a thing. Stede really had no context or sense of etiquette for any of this. But the idea of Ed in flowing lace sparked a coiling sensation in his lower belly, made his insides go all tight and twisty and his skin feel hot. 

That was probably just too much time in the sun. 

He could see it though, so clearly in his mind’s eye. Ed with his hair up as it had been on the night of their excursion to the French ship, all woven through with jewels and flowers, framed by a spill of white lace… faint strains of music in the air as Ed crossed the deck of the Revenge to where Stede stood waiting for him, framed by a glorious sunset… an elegant floral arrangement in Ed’s hands… eager warmth in his eyes… the two of them, hands entwined, pledging their eternal troth together… the vows… the kiss… and then—

The rest of his life to spend with the man he loved. 

Stede’s throat drew tight as tears gathered in his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered, roughly, softly, but in the oddly liminal space of the dinghy they all could hear. “Yes. I’ll ask him to matelotage me.” 

“I don’t think that’s how you say it—” 

“Shhh!” Olu dug his elbow into Pete’s side. “Would you shut up for once and just let him have this.” 

Stede took up the oars again and resumed rowing with renewed vigour, now with a dazed and blissful smile on his face and his eyes bright with dreams. Oluwande watched him for a moment with a troubled frown, then repeated, “Let him have this. Let him do it his way. I have a feeling that if we want to survive this and get our friends back we’re going to need for him to be exactly himself.” 

“Aye,” agreed the crew, even Pete, then silence fell again. 

#ofmd fanfic #ofmd fic #gentlebeard fanfic #gentlebeard #gbweddingweek #profdanglais #ofmd #our flag means death

[nicollekidman]

Waitttt please talk more about tashiart bc i see most ppl slander Art specifically even zendaya (which surprised me) but to me it was always art for tashi even when they first meet its clear she prefers art and wants his number, she wants art to win so badly because she wants their family but also because she wants to respect him

yeah i absolutely agree i think with the standard caveats that they all need each other in different ways and the beauty of the movie is it's up for interpretation etc etc etc

art and tashi have a different dynamic from the drop than tashi and patrick. patrick has the swagger and the bluster and he pushes at tashi like he pushes at art, but the way art chooses his words is much more careful (you screamed) and i think immediately pings to her that he has what she needs (discipline, awareness, insightfulness) in a very particular way that patrick doesn't. also i think it shouldn't be overlooked that she clocks in the hotel room that patrick is hung up on art even though art is focused on her, so i think her awareness of patrick's emotional unavailability (as it were) colors her choices going forward. like... knowing that art is tuned into her and is malleable and willing, while patrick might have the fire but he's already not aligned with her (their) priorities and the Thing that separates them is confidence, not necessarily skill..... "you can beat him. you should beat him" is her choice and its also a test.

and like. he fails it in that moment because it's a test patrick is also participating in!! but patrick and tashi don't have enough between them to sustain them, they're all bark and no real bite because he's not serious or disciplined enough to be a viable partner for her, even before she needs a surrogate. they clearly have a lot of spark but you can't sustain that. she likes when patrick pushes her but she doesn't respect him.

fast forward to 13 years of marriage.......... i get that people have the impulse to say that tashi only loves tennis or tashi can't love art because he's a lapdog or they want her to be a girlboss or whatever but like. those two deeply want/need each other it's just much more difficult for her to communicate that kind of connection than it is with patrick because patrick is simpler. he doesn't demand anything form her really, besides her anger and her body (occasionally), and both of them still exist as teenagers with endless potential in his mind, which is safe. but art is demanding everything from her, even as he's reciprocating by giving her literally every piece of himself, the way he nursed her through her injuries and she his means that like. she can't hide anywhere. so like they're not verbalizing things the same way patrick does, but the devotion is there. she never ever stops telling art he can beat patrick, and when she's not sure, she begs patrick to lose so that there's never any danger of her having to make that choice.

and like. i think art and tashi could be happy without tennis, but i think the point is that she doesn't know because they've never had to try, and even the possibility that she'd lose it all if art doesn't have it in him is enough to make her humble herself in front of patrick. which she has no reason to do unless she wants to keep him. like. they've built an entire life together, she's built art into who he is but that's a two-way process. and they end up inviting patrick back into the fold which enriches their lives and gives them the boost they need but ultimately it's still them inviting patrick into the life they've built together. i don't think it's a happy ending or really a story at all unless you think tashi loves art desperately.

#challengers #tashiart #long post // #keep in mind i haven't eaten and i just logged off so this may be a whole lot of nothing and i have More To Say but skdfjgh

[eyesontheskyline]

I think what a lot of people are not taking into account right now is the specificity of fandom culture / language.

Paget Brewster is not in fandom. She's excited about its existence, and who wouldn't be, right?? Imagine bringing a character to life that people care about enough to ship them with other characters and write stories and make edits etc. But being in a fandom is a specific culture that's different to being a fan of a show, and she very much gives the vibe with everything she says that she doesn't get that. Most people don't who aren't part of it.

Like I was talking to people in work recently about binge watching TV shows and one of them was like "oh I've been watching Criminal Minds recently, I ugly cried when Hotch's wife died", except (1) she said Hodge which means she's never seen his name written down, and (2) she probably then just went about her day without feeling compelled to like... spend every second of her free time for weeks writing a story exploring that moment that affected her. Like for her (and most fans), it's a TV show, you engage with the material as it is and maybe you really love it.

Paget is engaging with Jemily as if the Jemily people are fans of the interactions between Emily and JJ. She's had years of people sharing their 'favourite Jemily moments', which have all been platonic friendship moments, at least in the script's opinion. She has to ask her social media followers how to unblock messages, and what the deal is with people calling her "mother" and "mommy". She doesn't speak the language of fandom (or the language of Gen Z) and she's accidentally drawing a huge target on herself by hyping Jemily without knowing either literally what "is Jemily canon" means or emotionally what it means to people who are in fandom as opposed to being a big fan of the show.

Idk I just hope you guys will remember to be nice to her when this season comes out.

#paget brewster #i love her but someone needs to sit her down and show her tumblr #criminal minds #jemily #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau

[justagalwhowrites]

Someone New: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel is new to Jackson and his family is eager to play matchmaker.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author paid to PCRF upon completion. Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Ashley (NOT a reader insert)

Warnings: Smut :D Unprotected P in V sex. Daddy kink. Age gap (Joel is 56, Ashley is 40.) Light Dom!Joel and Sub!FOC. No use of Y/N. 18+ Only MINORS DNI

Length: 3.6k

For You Masterlist | Full Masterlist | AO3

A/N: Written as a request by the lovely @ashleyfilm! She requested "Jackson era Joel from the tv show, so Pedro, and me (Ashley, plus size, I’m 40, I have black hair and glasses, my eyes are blue green with some hazel, I have tattoos, I’m short. A little goth, wear all black where it’s possible in an apocalypse haha) in this scenario I have a cool exterior and I’m independent by nature, but when you get to know me I’m funny and loving, but keep to myself. Joel and I would both like each other but have no clue, while Tommy, Maria and Ellie would all know and roll their eyes at us, try and talk sense into us. Eventually we come together and I’d love some smut. Some daddy soft dom Joel, I’m sub, the only time I want to be told what to do is during sex. I like giving pussies a pronoun so like she likes it and her if you know what I mean. And some fluff would be nice too." Shared with permission. I hope you all enjoy!!

Tommy was starting to drive Joel insane. 

It had taken some adjustment, coming to Jackson. 

There was the adjustment of being back around other people at all, for starters. There was the adjustment to being a father again. There was the adjustment of being in a place he cared about, one where he wanted to contribute instead of forced to to keep FEDRA’s boot off his neck. 

It had been a lot to swallow and, not that anyone was asking, he thought he’d done a damn good job of it. Ellie was happy, going to school every day and making friends. He had his ways to play his part in the community. 

So what if he was doing it all on his own? It’s not like it’s a crime to keep to yourself, he wasn’t sure why Tommy kept trying to push him further than he wanted to go. 

He doubted it was because Ashley was asking him to.

Ashley, the woman Tommy kept damn near throwing him toward at every opportunity. Ashley, who was years too young for him to even be thinking about the way he did. Ashley, whose plush curves and bright eyes had caught his attention from the moment he met her, even as she kept her distance from Joel and, it seemed, just about everyone else in Jackson. 

It didn’t matter how much Joel would enjoy things being different, that the little time he’d spent with her had been some of his favorite since coming here. She wasn’t interested - couldn’t be interested - and he wasn’t about to force it. 

Tommy, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“I’m not sure why you won’t just see if she wants to go,” Tommy said one night as they sat in the mess hall for dinner. “What’s the harm?” 

“Don’t particularly feel like gettin’ shot down,” Joel replied, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. “Got enough goin’ on without worrying about that, too.” 

“Worrying about what?” Maria asked, taking her spot next to Tommy. Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he was about to be outnumbered. 

“Joel won’t ask Ashley to the dance on Saturday,” Tommy smirked a little. “He’s convinced she’d say no…” 

“Who would say no to what?” Ellie joined them, too, sitting next to Joel. 

“Ashley to Joel and the dance, apparently,” Maria said, giving Ellie a knowing look. 

“Oh shit,” Ellie’s eyes went a little wide. “They’d be so cute together, Joel pretending to be a person who actually does something besides be grumpy…” 

“OK you tryin’ to get yourself grounded?” Joel asked, brows raised. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Because it sure seems like it. And I don’t need y’all match making for me. I am doin’ just fine without worrying about all of that. Leave it.” 

Ellie and Maria gave each other a knowing look that Joel was about to call them on when Tommy distracted him. 

“You’re going to the dance Saturday anyway, right?” He asked. “Just because you’re too chicken shit to bring a date doesn’t mean you should sit it out. It’s a big party, the whole town will be there, you should at least come by for a few drinks. You’ll miss out if you don’t.” 

“Yeah, I want to go!” Ellie said, turning to Joel and pouting a little. “You’re really going to make me go all by myself?” 

“I’ll go to the dance,” Joel sighed before looking between the others and gesturing between them with the fork. “S’long as you three are done meddling.” 

“We’ll behave,” Ellie smirked a little. “I promise.” 

Joel shouldn’t have believed them. He should have known better. 

But that didn’t make him any less surprised when he showed up to the dance Saturday evening and looked for Tommy and Maria, only to find them sitting with Ashley, her dark hair styled to pair with the black dress that seemed like it was made to highlight her every soft curve, curves that Joel had spent hours dreaming about exploring with his hands and mouth. 

He was going to strangle Tommy. 

“Joel!” His brother called, waving him over, as if Joel would have missed him. “Over here!” 

“C’mon old man,” Ellie teased. “Stop being such a fucking coward.” 

“We’re talking about your language later,” he muttered, letting Ellie lead him to the table, hoping that no one had put too much pressure on Ashley to put her in this position. 

“Well look who decided to join the party,” Tommy smirked. Joel ground his teeth. “Ashley, you know my brother Joel.” 

“I do,” she gave him a cool, tight smile and took a sip of her drink, looking back out toward the dance floor. 

“Hi,” Joel said before feeling like a bit of an idiot and pulling his eyes from her to turn back to his brother. “How are you Tommy, Maria?” 

“Oh, we’re good,” Maria smiled a little, looking more like Tommy than Joel thought was appropriate. He wondered if married couples started looking alike before too long. 

“Just peachy,” Tommy said as a new song started. “Oh would you look at that, I need to dance with my wife. Maria?” 

He offered her his hand and she smiled wider before taking it, giving Joel a meaningful look before being led onto the dance floor by her husband. 

“Oh, I think I see Dina,” Ellie said before clapping Joel on the back and leaving him there, alone with Ashley, before he had the chance to argue. 

Joel just stood there, awkwardly, trying not to stare at her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“So,” he said eventually. “Um… that seat taken?” 

She looked at him, brows raised. 

“Just by your brother.” 

“Right,” he said, taking it anyway. She looked back toward the dance floor and Joel looked her over while he had the chance, how the darkness of her clothes seemed to suit her, the sharp intelligence behind her glasses, the beauty of the tattoos he could see on her exposed skin. He wondered what each of them meant, wondered what it would be like to take his time tracing over each one. 

“So,” she turned her attention back to Joel. “Liking Jackson so far? Been here… what, a few months now?” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “S’good. Different than where I’ve been for a while but that’s a good thing. Ellie likes it, all that really matters.” 

She nodded slowly, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Seems like she’s a good kid,” she said. “Sure got a mouth on her, though.” 

“Yeah,” Joel laughed, leaning his elbows onto the table. “She’s somethin’ else. I tried telling her she needs to watch her language, this ain’t the QZ.” 

“That’s a hell of an adjustment,” she smiled a little and damn, Joel really liked to see her smile. More than he’d liked seeing a woman smile in… he wasn’t sure how long. “Trust me, I know.” 

“You spent some time in a QZ?” He asked, brows raised. 

She nodded, taking a final sip of her cocktail. 

“Portland,” she said. “I was there at the beginning. One night, I was sneaking liquor at industry night at my favorite club, the next it’s a war zone. Got used to it after a while, though. You were in Boston with Tommy, right?” 

“I was,” Joel nodded. “Took us a while to work our way there but found it eventually.” 

“And you both ended up all the way out here.” 

“Suppose so,” Joel said. He nodded to her empty glass. “Can I get you another?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “That’d be nice.” 

He went to the bar and got them both a drink before rejoining her at the table. 

Joel was surprised at how much he liked talking with her. For how much time he’d spent thinking about her and looking at her, he hadn’t spent much time actually talking with her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. 

Where he’d always known her to be a bit distant and cool, he was starting to realize that, as soon as he was past the caution she seemed to approach the world with, she was really very warm and loving, thoughtful and kind. They talked about music, about what they missed about before, the quirks of life in Jackson after living in a QZ. 

By the time Joel got her onto the dance floor, he was ready to get her home. And he was starting to think she wanted the same. 

“Can I walk you home?” Joel asked as the Tipsy Bison was almost empty and he wasn’t able to come up with any more excuses to stay. 

“You can,” she smiled. “But… I think I’d rather you walk me to yours.” 

He smiled back. 

“Think that can be arranged.” 

Joel draped his arm over her shoulders and the two of them walked slowly through the dark town, the streets quiet and the stars bright. 

“Well,” Joel said as they came to his front walk. “This is me. Still want to come in?” 

“Yeah,” Ashley nodded. “Yeah, I really do.” 

He smiled. 

“Good.” 

He took her hand and led her to his door. 

But things shifted as they made it inside. Joel tilted her face up, finding the right angle, thumb brushing her lips, waiting for her to make a move. 

But she didn’t. Her breaths got quicker, her eyes searched his and, after a moment, he felt like he couldn’t wait anymore. 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. “Because it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about doing for a while.” 

She just nodded quickly and he kissed her, covering her mouth with his. 

It had been a while since Joel had kissed anyone, even longer since it was a first kiss. But Joel could tell this was different, something special. It was like an electric current ran over his skin, sparking at where your lips met and shooting out through the rest of him. There was a sharp, sudden pang of need deep inside him, the drive to be closer to her, as close as he could reach. More than that, he wanted to know that she was safe, cared for. That she had what she needed and what she wanted because he was giving it to her. 

“Joel,” she breathed as they separated, just enough for him to look in those blue green eyes of hers. “Will you take me to bed?” 

“Yeah baby,” he said, want seeping into his voice. “Yeah, I will.” 

He kissed her again, his hands sliding down from her face to her arms to her waist, moving her toward the stairs as he did. He only pulled away from her when they needed to go up to his room, not wanting to stop touching her for even a few moments, his skin almost aching as he watched the round shape of her ass in her black skirt going upstairs ahead of him. 

Joel pulled her back against him at the top of the stairs, the few seconds she was apart from him too much. Her arms stretched up and went around his neck and his hands roamed over her back and sides, luxuriating in just how soft she felt, how he could find places on her that seemed made for him to hold. He guided her to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He slid his hands back up her body over her arms, his callused fingers slipping over her soft skin. 

“You gonna let me make you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, voice dark and low. “Because I want to touch every damn inch of you.” 

“Please, Joel,” she whispered, her fingers tightening desperately on his curls at the nape of his neck. “Please, I want you, I need you, I…” 

“Shhh,” he hushed her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just let Daddy take care of you.” 

He kissed her again and found the zipper on her dress, sliding it down, down, down, until he could slide the straps down her arms and let the fabric fall to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes ranging over Ashley’s body, tracing over her curves and tattoos. “You are the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He reached around and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms and dropping it to the floor before cupping her breasts, the fullness of her so soft below his touch that he couldn’t help but groan. 

“You gonna let me take care of you, baby girl?” He asked, voice husky. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you?” 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he said it but something inside him just knew, he could sense it in her. That she wanted someone to guide her, someone she could trust to take charge and give her what she needed.

He could tell by the way she nodded that he was right. 

Joel guided her down onto the bed before pulling his shirt and casting it aside. His eyes ranged over her body as he took his jeans and underwear off, too, his cock already thick and achingly hard. He worked himself, not able to stop himself as he drank her in, memorizing her. 

“Want you to touch yourself for me,” he said, stepping closer to the bed. “Spread those pretty legs, put your hand in your panties, show me how you like to touch yourself.” 

She took a hesitant, shaky breath and slid her hand down her body before slipping them below the fabric, stretching it tight over her pussy for a moment before her hand dipped lower. He could see the outline of her fingers clearly, watched with his mouth watering as they stroked her pussy lips before slipping inside. 

“There you go, baby girl,” he groaned, stroking his cock in time with her fingers. “You just keep on doin’ that for me.” 

He moved to the bed and she frowned as he reached out, looping his fingers around the waistband of her panties to start tugging them down. His eyes moved from her face, down her body to where her pussy lay just below the fabric. Her fingers were still. 

“I tell you to stop?” He asked. She groaned and he saw her fingers start to move again. “That’s my good girl. Want your pussy all nice and wet and full when I see her the first time.” 

He pulled her underwear down slowly, revealing her wet slit with two of her fingers buried deep inside herself as he did.

“Oh, there she is,” he breathed, casting her panties aside. “Fuck, such a pretty little pussy ain’t she?” 

Ashley just moaned, thrusting her fingers deeper. Joel licked his lips, desperate for a taste of her. 

“Spread her open for me, baby,” he said, spreading her legs wide and settling between them. “Lemme see.” 

Her hands trembled as she slid her fingers from her dripping entrance and delicately opened herself to him. 

“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, taking a thumb and brushing it over her tight little hole before trailing it up to her swollen nub. “Gonna take a lot before she can take me. Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He pressed his mouth to her entrance, just a kiss at first, a taste of her musky sweetness. His thumb stayed against her clit, rubbing her in slow and gentle circles as he dipped is tongue inside of her. 

Joel started slow, easing her into it. His tongue worked deeper, his thumb harder. Eventually, he added a finger, then two, starting to stretch her open as her hips canted up against his face, her legs squirming, delicious moans and gasps pouring from her lips. He looped an arm around her thigh to hold her still, pulling her leg against the side of his head and leaving his nose to work her clit as his hand splayed wide on her plush thigh. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” her back was arched, fingers wound tight in his quilt. “I’m coming, I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming!” 

He smiled against her as he ate her through her orgasm, pressing his aching cock down into the bed as he felt her pussy flutter over his tongue. 

When her climax eased, he pulled himself from her tight, wet heat and rose to his knees, stroking his dripping length as she came back down to earth. He nudged her legs apart and down, leaving her fully exposed to him. He ran his fingers over her slit, gathering her wetness and bringing it to his cock as she looked at him, her eyes a little wide. 

“Is…” she swallowed, hard. “Is that going to fit inside me? I don’t know if that’s going to fit…” 

“It’ll fit, baby girl,” he said, working himself as he lined himself up with her entrance. “You can take it, so nice and wet for me. You just relax and let me inside you.” 

He pressed his cock against her tight center, moaning and just how hot and wet and fucking soft she felt. He watched, almost obsessed, as she opened to take him, the stretch almost obscene as he saw himself start to disappear into her body. 

“See baby?” He panted as he sank just the first few inches of him into her cunt. “You can take it, taking it so good for me. She stretches so fuckin’ pretty for me, so goddamn pretty.” 

Her hands flew to his biceps as he leaned over her, pressing himself deeper, her fingers scrambling over his muscle as he worked her open. Joel fought to think of anything but the fact that he was almost fully inside the woman he’d been longing for for weeks now. He couldn’t come too quick, he couldn’t let this end now. He had to take his time, had to feel her come around him. 

And then he was buried inside her to the root, the entirety of him in the entirety of her, her walls stretching to hold him. 

“There you go,” he praised her. He splayed his hand wide over her thick, soft lower stomach, pressing into her skin as his thumb slid down to her clit and started stroking it. “Did so good, taking me so well. You ever been this stretched baby?” 

“No daddy,” her nails dug into his arm. “Feels so good…” 

“Good girl,” he said, working her clit a little harder. She moaned and rocked her hips against him. “Aw, does someone need to be fucked? Someone need me to make her come?” 

“Yes,” she pleaded. “Please, please, please Daddy, please, I need to come, I need…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, leaning over her and kissing her deeply, the taste of her mouth mixing with the taste of her pussy that lingered on his tongue. “Gonna make you come so hard for me.” 

He pulled back before thrusting forward, hard and fast and making her gasp, her hands flying from his arms to his back. But he stopped her, taking hold of her arms and pinning them over her head with one of his large hands. 

“You can use those when I tell you,” he said. “Right now, need you focused on taking,” he pulled back and thrust back in quickly. “This.” He did it again, fucking into her hard and fast. “Cock.” He did it one last time before grinding himself deep. “Tell me when you’re about to come.” 

He picked up his pace then, fucking into her deep and firm, grinding his hips down against her clit, feeling how her breasts moved against him as he forced her walls apart with each heavy stroke. 

Joel didn’t let up, too lost in her and just how damn good she felt to do anything else. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been fucking her - just that it wasn’t long enough - when her breathy, desperate voice broke through the lust-driven haze of his mind. 

“I’m gonna come,” she keened, her pussy to tight around him that it almost hurt. “Gonna come, I’m gonna come Daddy, please…” 

He freed her hands then and she gasped, her fingers immediately finding the broad expanse of his back. Joel took her face in his hands and looked into those eyes of hers, unlike anything else he’d ever seen as he felt how her body took his. 

“Good girl,” he said, breathless and needy, too. “Come for me, come all over my cock, that’s it, so good for me…” 

The chorus of praise continued until she cried out, her whole body seizing as her channel gripped him so tight he was almost afraid it would force him out. But he held himself deep inside her, kissing her as she moaned into his mouth as she throbbed around him. His orgasm took hold, amazed for the half second he was aware enough to think that he’d been able to hold off this long, emptying himself deep inside of her. 

“Fuck,” she moaned, panting for breath as they both came down from their shared high. Joel had all but collapsed on top of her and he adjusted, pulling himself gently from her body and feeling their combined spend leaking from her as he did. He lay beside her and she turned to look at him. “That… I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Me either.” 

She smiled back. 

“I think we’ll have to do that again sometime,” she said. 

“Only if you let me take you out first,” Joel said. “Don’t think I can get enough of you in bed. Think I’m gonna need as much as you’ll let me have outside it, too.” 

Ashley reached out and carded her fingers through his thick, shaggy curls. 

“I think we can make that work.” 

#fanfic #joel miller x oc #smut fic #daddy k!nk #dom!joel miller #for you

[lloydfrontera]

if i think too long about the ending making lloyd leave the home he worked so hard to save behind along with the new found family he sacrificed his life for so he can move to a place he has no emotional connection to where he only knows two people (one of which is actually following him from the aforementioned home) in order to make him get a standard "have a wife and children" 'happy' ending i start wanting to bite people not gonna lie

#i talk a lot <3 #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #it is. such a sucky ending i hate it i'm sorry i cannot stand it #i love charlotte with all my heart and i truly do like alicia #but jesus fuck that ending #the one thing lloyd wants is to have an easy relaxed life surrounded by the people he loves #and then the ending has him become the royal consort to someone we know likes to use people to their best potential #and living permanently away from his parents and all the people he came to care about #except for javier and alicia. and javier is only there because of lloyd anyway. #i just. i hate heteronormative endings so much man. #he didn't need to marry! he could've found his happy ending without having to be romantically involved with anyone!! #there's this whole thing about lloyd thinking to himself that his happy ending will be settling down with a wife and have kids #and then there is this one moment. where he talks about what he really wants. his one true wish. #and he talks about how he just wants a family. a normal family. a family that welcomes him after a day's work. a family that lives a normal #life without worrying about nothing much. he doesn't want big territories or power or an army. he just wants to have a family that loves hi #and enough to keep them safe. #AND FUCKING GUESS WHAT HE GAINS THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE NOVEL #GUESS WHAT THE EMOTIONAL CORE OF THE ENTIRE THING WAS #A FAMILY. PARENTS AND A BROTHER AND A BEST FRIEND THAT CARE FOR HIM AND WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY AND HIM DOING EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO KEEP #THEM SAFE. AND HE DOES. EVERYTHING HE DOES WAS TOO KEEP THEM SAFE AND SOUND AND HE GETS HIS WISH. #DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN!! #HE DIDN'T NEED TO MARRY BECAUSE HE ALREADY HAD HIS WISH. HE ALREADY HAD HIS HAPPY ENDING. I'M SO MAD KASHDKA #tged

[gayrogues]

there is no fucking way that tom king's shitty oneshot, featuring the most out-of-character riddler known to man and a batman who breaks his no kill rule and waterboards people, got nominated for an eisner award...

#i hate the riddler issue of one bad day so much it's unreal #1. why write a riddler comic if you're gonna be like 'actually he HATES riddles and puzzles and won't be using them anymore' #now he's just some guy who kills people #2. i don't think i need to explain why i hate the concept of batman breaking the no kill rule or waterboarding people #3. trying to make the killing joke relevant again after 30 years? to say that ed was the mastermind behind it? #4. the plot is just. incredibly silly and not in a good way like you're telling me once the riddler stops using riddles he #becomes powerful enough to take over the entire city and batman can't do anything about it except kill him? #and i'm not talking taking over the city like in zero year where there was an actual plan #in one bad day everyone just gets sooo scared of him and his massive brain that they fall in line #5. that is not his fucking backstory #that's like. the complete opposite of it. keeping only the part about him having a shitty dad #he was never a prestigious prep school kid under immense pressure to be the smartest #he was just some kid who went unnoticed by everyone and that's why winning that puzzle contest was so important to him #and then his dad refused to believe he was smart enough to win the contest without cheating and you know the rest #he has a very ordinary backstory that explains a lot about him #meanwhile i feel like tom king was like 'oh shit this series is called one bad day' #'i need to give ed a pivotal moment in his life that made him fucked up and evil' #'how bout i write all this stuff leading up to him brutally killing his teacher at the age of like 15' #and it just sucked ass #i feel like there was more stuff i hated that i'm forgetting but i am not gonna re-read this comic to remember! at least the art was good #oopsie daisy these tags turned out to be much longer than i was expecting - i don't even care about the eisner awards i just saw the #category pop up on the library app that i use and i was like Why is This in here #ransom.txt