#if that was on a good year. if that was on a good year. holy shit i don’t even want to think about the bad years.

[macfrog]

hi queenie, love of my life 😌 i’d like to ask the following for 🩵: d’you think there was ever a moment where joel really thought holy shit. she drives me insane… i gotta fuck her. ???

(rly hoping there was 😌)

ily, sister! thanks for the gif. feeling really. normal. about him. right now. oh, yeah. he had his moments. let's get into it.

compensation 1.1k words | duckie's baby shower 🩵 warnings: literally just joel masturbating to the thought of his neighbor. good shit.

she can’t have been older than twenty-five, when she moved in.

hell, she’s not even thirty yet, as it is. she’s too fucking –

you’re too fucking young for him, and that’s the end of that.

at least – that’s what joel’s telling himself, trapped on your front porch. watching you relive the story of the ups driver who almost wouldn't let you sign for his package.

doing his best to keep his eyes on yours, and not the thin tank top you’re wearing.

“…she’s like, how do i know you’re gonna get this to him? i’m like, uh, what the fuck do i want with my boring ass neighbor’s mail? no offense, joel. but c’mon. i’m literally signing for it. anyways.”

you turn, bending down for the box by the stairs, and joel drags his eyes upwards.

his hand shakes at his side. jaw ticks, watching you turn back, the package leaning against your front. your breasts – oh, jesus.

he swallows. his throat feels like carpet burn.

“’s heavy,” you mutter, edging towards him. “rock collecting?”

“mind your business,” joel clips, slipping his hands around the box. the back of his wrists brush against the swell of your breasts, and he stares so intensely at his own address on the label that he hopes it’s burned forever into his vision.

you huff as the weight passes into his hands. a little sigh.

something twitches beneath his belt buckle.

joel sits the box on his hip. “well, thanks for this. and for calling me boring.”

you cross your arms. it only pushes your tits up more. “stay humble, old man.”

he should walk away. right now. he should take his package, and his pride, and the fucking rock in his jeans – and head on home.

but then you slump against the doorpost, one ankle crossing over the other, and say, “s’posed to get pretty hot this summer.”

“’s already pretty hot.”

“hotter, jackass. they’re sayin’ record temperatures.”

“they say that every year.”

you poke at the inside of your cheek with your tongue. the way you always do, when you’re trying to annoy him.

and it’s working.

“actually, uh –” joel shifts between feet, “– i was gonna ask you a favor.”

“mhm?”

his gaze trickles down your figure. each curve and swell of supple skin. the shorts he’s getting a little too used to seeing you in, too used to looking for. your bare legs, and the glow of sun on them.

when he looks back up, you’re smirking at him.

christ, he wants to wipe that smirk clean off your face. wants to twist it into something darker, something…something louder, and filthier, and –

“joel. hellooo?”

you wave your hand in front of his face, and he snaps back.

“huh? oh, shit. sorry – i, uh…” a flush rises like an inferno up his neck. he shakes his head, fighting it off. “yeah. a favor.”

“you good? don’t pass out on my porch,” you warn. “wait until you’re back on your own land to do that.”

he breathes a laugh – panting, almost. “i’m good. i just – i need someone to water my, uh – my plants. i’m outta town next week, visitin’ my brother. if you wouldn’t mind…”

he feels like a fucking moron when he finally meets your eye again.

you blink back at him, frowning. head tipped, looking him up and down. “i don’t mind,” you say, something cautious in your voice, “but i expect generous compensation for my time.”

“compensation,” joel agrees, nodding. he’d do anything to be off this goddamn porch right now. “how about i’ll owe you one?”

“works for me.”

“alright. thank you, again,” he holds the package up, “and, uh – i’ll see ya.”

he’s gone before he hears your response.

too young. she’s too young. you’re so young. goddamn it.

you drive him fucking insane. you and your little shorts, the simper on your face. he swears he could see through the white of your top, two perfect circles where –

oh, fuck.

he spills into his bathroom, a heavy hand slamming down on the valve. the water roars from the showerhead, louder than the blood in his ears.

joel hauls his tee over his shoulders, the fabric peeling from his muscles and crumpling in a damp pile on the floor. he shucks the rest of his clothes off, kicking them to the side, and steps straight into the cubicle.

he looks down, and – fucking hell.

his cock sways between his legs, all rosy and already dripping. he can feel his pulse hammering at his tip; hisses when the stream sprays over it.

his hand lifts, curving around air.

shit, he just wants to touch himself. wants to relieve the ache between his hips. he has to.

he balls his fists against the tiled wall. his head drops low between his shoulders. the water pours down over him, pastes his dark hair in soaking flicks around his face. he can taste the salt of sweat and sun as it slips from his skin.

once. if he only did it once, would it matter? he’s hard now, anyways. there’s a quick fix.

you just – you caught him off-guard. he only went over there to pick up a package. he didn’t fucking know you’d be – oh, christ – he didn’t know you’d be in that shirt. no bra, no nothing beneath it.

he can still feel the plush of your tits on his knuckles. the way they moved as you leant against the doorframe. he can still see the summery shine on your skin.

he thinks about slipping his hands under the hem of your tank. up, up, up, across your smooth skin until he’s cupping them. squeezing them; circling his thumbs over the hardening peaks.

the short breaths from your lips, your smirk melted into a delicate o-shape. voiceless, nothing but whimpering and gasping when his teeth take your nipple.

before he even realizes it – he’s stroking his cock.

and quickly.

he groans, lips turning to his bicep. he bites down on the skin, hard.

he’d slip your shorts down your hips; see whatever slutty little panties you wear. he’d pull your thighs over his shoulders, unfold your sweet cunt and –

“shit,” joel pants, hips stuttering. his fingers splay out on the slippery tile.

you’re so infuriating. loudmouthed and fucking bratty. and he could shut you up, he knows he could. he’d sit you on his cock, wrapped perfectly around him, and fuck you dumb. fuck you until you’re nothing but a sobbing, soaking mess.

fuck you with that scrap of a tank top on. tits bouncing beneath it, the fabric riding higher and higher until they’re exposed.

what a good fuckin’ girl, taking all of him. letting him split you open, letting him fuck you raw. so big he’ll leave an ache deep inside you; so hard that he makes you come three times over before he’s even close.

but – fuck, he’s close, right now.

“c’mon, baby,” he mutters into his skin. teeth gritted; fist so tight the skin threatens to split across his knuckles. “make me come, c’mon.”

it’d dribble from your cunt, and he’d push it straight back in. make damn sure you keep it all in there, make damn sure you’re walking around all full of him. the seam of your thighs slick, semen seeping into your panties.

“goddamn,” he groans, and with a throb, coats the shower wall.

his cock twitches, pulses until he’s empty. the ache begins to thaw.

he shuts the shower off, still massaging his softening dick as he steps back out. he lifts a towel and drags it across his tingling body.

and he swears, when he notices the sun dipping below your roof –

it will never happen again.

#another “short” one from me :) will i ever stop rambling about this man's dick #duckie's baby shower #🩵 #mrsmando #sweet child o' mine

[xenasaur]

So, you gonna admit you were wrong and forced a trans woman to out herself because “Everyone I Disagree With Is A TERF!” or what?

holy shit, you mean homunyas? hey tell her to unblock me, if she didn't like what I have to say about cryptoterfs when I thought she was cis, she's REALLY not gonna like what I have to say now that I know she's trans. because now I know she's not only spouting off crypto-terf shit, she's also doing it to someone who was supposed to be her own fucking sister. this intensifies my dislike of homunyas and I stand by every single fucking thing I said. poor "mean lesbian" can't take backlash? she shouldn't fucking harass transfems. nobody made her come on my post (which was about trans positivity) and call me a bigot for having a complex relationship with gender and sexuality (which is especially funny because by her own rules I'm a good girl Real Lesbian™️). nobody made her mark me as a transphobe on shinigami eyes. nobody made her out herself as trans. she experienced the consequences of her own fucking actions and is now trying to use her identity as a shield, because surely a trans woman couldn't POSSIBLY have shittons of internalized transphobia.

that being said, I obviously do not support the harassment of transfems, even if they fucking suck and are harassers themselves. idk what is going on with homunyas bc if i did a "where are they now" with every harasser i got I'd never have any free time. but we already have so much fucking shit to deal with every day without it. if you think you are helping me by harassing her, or are in any way doing this shit on my behalf, take a big fucking step back and realize You're The Homunyas Here. then go live in a monestary where trans people don't have to exist around you for a few years to do some deep soul-searching. then come back and voluntarily self-report so I can block your ass. don't fucking harass trans people. i get it, she sucks. just block and move on. you aren't making me feel better by making my sister feel worse.

#ask xenasaur

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Four: in another life

Rafe Cameron x reader

Chapter 4: in another life

Note: Here's part four!! I'm still crying over TTPD. Down bad is so incredibly Rafeit's insane. Anyway!! I love you all so much, thank you for reading and being absolutely wonderful. This part covers the smau up until part 26. Good luck soldiers!!

Warnings: none, not edited, angst, swearing, sadness, julio, mentions of drugs, mentions of suicidal ideation.

Word Count:  6,722

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

Chapter 4: in another life 

It’s a nightmare. Everything feels off. The walls are caving in. His mouth feels as if he had chewed on cotton balls for the past hour. It’s spinning. He’s lost control of himself and he doesn’t know how he’ll get it back. 

It started because of the thought of them together. Forever. Married. Having kids and living happily ever after clawed and his chest and ate him from the inside out. It was an ugly feeling. He wanted to be happy for her. There was no way he could be. Not when he was so deeply in love with her. Not that he ever stopped. 

It was just one blunt. He stole it from Barry. He was careful not to disturb any of the other drugs he had in there. Careful not to look at them too long. He’s been good. Has been clean for more than two years without any missteps. And here he is high once again. It’s just weed he tells himself. It’s fine. He’s fine. 

They’re about to go onstage when Sofia loses her mind. She goes absolutely ballistic. He’s pulling her off to the side away from prying eyes.

“Stop. Relax. Let me explain.” Everything comes out in a jumble as he’s trying to balance his damn guitar and get her to stop flailing her arms everywhere. 

“There’s no explaining anything. We are over. We are so done, Rafe. Holy shit I cannot believe I put up with your crazy obsession with your friend who by the way you didn’t even date. You’re insane.” 

“Can you calm down for a second?”

“No! For your information Rafe. She doesn’t want you! She’s moved on! And we could have too but no. You’re here still pining over something that doesn’t exist. You are so incredibly disrespectful to me. I have been nothing but supportive of you. And I have put up with so much shit from you so much hatred because what? Did I take you away from her? You chose me! You left her. And now I’m leaving you.” 

“Sofia-“

“The way you have treated me the last couple of months with your album release and hinting that it’s about her? Do you have any idea how that makes me look? How it makes me feel? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh! Sorry! You and her! And barely even yourself, you know how I know?” She looks at him, volcanic ash in her eyes. “Because you’re fucking high right now!”

“Keep your voice down.” He pulls her deeper into the corner they’re standing in.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I loved you. I did. I thought that once she moved on, we would be okay. I was wrong. Do not sabotage this for her. She’s happy. You’re not good enough for her. And not for me.”

She does a 180 and storms off away from backstage and away from him. He looks up and Topper is staring at him from where he stands beside Sarah, her hand is on his arm, a look of concern on her face. He shakes his head at them and turns to the stairs that lead to the stage. He spots Y/N and Julio, they’re talking quietly to each other, he sees her laugh and touch Julio’s face, and he kisses the palm of her hand.

Fuck this. He runs back to the green room. He knows he left it around here somewhere and he knows where the lighters are. He digs through three of Barry’s jackets before he finds the blunt. Barry must have moved it. When he pulls it out, a plastic baggie with four white pills comes up with it. He thinks about putting them back. He wants to put them back. He hears the 5-minute warning, stuffs the baggie in his jeans and runs to find a lighter. 

+++

There’s something off about Rafe. She notices when they begin their second song. He’s swaying more than usual, coming up and singing to her face a little too closely. 

It must be because they’re trying to be friends. And maybe the fight with Sofia. It was pretty nasty the way she went at him. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, the crowd and music drowning them out. Sofia looked upset. She must have cooled off because she’s in the audience standing next to Sarah. Not that their manager would allow her to leave even if she wanted to. It would cause too much speculation online and that’s something they don’t need more of. 

She hasn’t had to protect Julio from how Rafe and her used to act on stage, during their no-talking years, they still put on an act but it was nowhere near the level of how they acted pre-everything. They were pretty heavy on the PDA, without confirming anything of course. It was more like singing into each other's mics while staring longingly into each other’s eyes. A lot of heavy petting, she would drape herself around Rafe, Rafe would swing her around and carry her. They would practically make out on stage every show. They did everything but have sex. It’s no wonder the theories and rumours started. 

Post everything that went down, they tamed it and kept it to their side of the stage unless they were switching over. They didn’t share a mic and looking at each other too long was off-limits. And now, well now, it looks like Rafe wants to sing into her mouth with the way he gets closer and closer. Julio knows about their past and he knows that she would never do anything to hurt him but this is a little much. She doesn’t want to rub anything in his face or make him feel disrespected. She also can’t diss Rafe on stage. They have an act. They’re all best friends and nothing bad has ever happened between them. 

So she plays along. And she sings into his mic, she whips her hair in his face and he sings over her shoulder. They’re closer than they’ve ever been. This should be a fun one to look at online. At some point, her shirt comes off. She’s a little angry at Rafe’s immediate switch-up. She feels that since they’re just figuring out how to be friends, he could give it a rest and not go all out. So her shirt comes off. It got stuck on the mic stand, she got pissed off that it ripped a little and she took it off, throwing it into the crowd. At some point Rafe is not even fully on the stage anymore, he’s lying down looking up at her as he plays his guitar. She’s standing over him, singing into the mic and playing the bass all while wondering what the hell has gotten into him. 

Security is going insane over Rafe hanging off the stage and people are trying to grab his legs. Sarah is diving into the crowd trying to get a shot of what’s happening on stage. She kind of wants the show to be over but at the same time, it’s the most fun she’s had on stage in a while. 

+++

Trying to find their footing after not being friends for three years, that much is clear. One moment he’s trying to make out with her onstage and the next he can barely look at her. It has been a little bit harder than she thought it would be. 

It’s strangely painful. The realization that they can’t go back to how they were before anything happened. She knew it wouldn’t be easy but these awkward silences might kill her. 

She’s sitting between Topper and Rafe, staring directly at Barry’s bored face as Ash explains who kows what. Something about which celebrities and important label heads are coming to tonight’s show. 

She didn’t care about the label heads. One of their most important shows had been the one two days ago. Their friends had all flown in from different places to see them. Now back in the city she calls home, that’s still all that matters. 

Cleo and Pope flew in from New York, John B and JJ had flown in from Hawaii. JJ would be leaving almost immediately after to continue training for the next big surf competition and John B would be staying at Sarah’s. Julio was at her house, she didn’t want him to have to spend the entire day at rehearsals so she told him to come by when he was ready. Ward was around somewhere too, probably with Sarah and John B. Kelce was at his hotel and would be arriving later with Kie after he got her from the airport, the only one that had missed the last show. It was an important show for them because of their people not because of some random celebrity they didn’t know. 

After the show, they would go to one of their favourite bars to celebrate and then she would be off to North Carolina for a week before moving to Madrid for the foreseeable future.

She was so excited to be there a bit before Julio started filming so they could visit his friends and family. 

After Ash is done running them through the guest list, they have some downtime before their private soundcheck and the fan soundcheck. Fan Soundcheck is her favourite because they get to play some deep cuts and answer some fun questions.

They’re standing backstage as one of their stagehands announces they’ll be out in three minutes. They’re standing in a circle making sure that their in-ears are on. Barry and Topper bickering about some random thing.

“Ready, buddy?” She looks at Rafe, her eyebrow raised as Barry laughs. 

“Buddy? Good one.” Topper laughs as Rafe’s face turns red. 

“Okay yeah, I’ll never say that again.”

“Please,” she laughs, “let’s go.” She leads the guys onto the stage as their fans start screaming. 

They play a song right off the bat and then sit down for a few questions. 

Everything is going fine, the mood is great, they’re all vibing with each other on stage, it’s great. Right up until it’s not. 

“Hi, my name is Sammy, my question is for Y/N.” She smiles at the girl and waves. 

“Hi Sammy, I remember you! You saw our last show too,” she speaks into the microphone. 

“Hi! Oh my goodness yes. I drove here from San Francisco after getting tickets last minute.” The girl rambles. “Okay, so I was wondering, what are you most looking forward to doing on your break?” She mulls over the question before answering. 

“I’m going to be semi-moving to Spain for a while so probably just exploring the city.” Sammy nods and thanks her as the mic is passed to the next person.  

Something shifts on stage after that question. She doesn’t know if she missed something or what, but suddenly the mood is tense. Barry’s in between her and Rafe and she can still feel the tension coming off him in waves. 

After the last question, they played one more song and bid the fans goodbye, telling them they would see them in a few hours for the show. 

Barry goes and does whatever Barry does before a show, Rafe storms off and Topper follows him. She looks over at her guitar tech who just shrugs his shoulders and takes her guitar from her. 

She texts Julio asking when he will be getting to the arena. When she doesn’t receive an answer, she sits in the green room, with no idea where the boys are. 

She dozes off for an hour before her phone blows up with texts from Rafe. She opens Julio’s message first, telling her that he would leave her house in an hour. Then she goes to Rafe’s texts, saying something along the lines of needing to talk to her. She sees that she has notifications from Twitter as well and opens those. From Rafe too. 

“I need you”

“Please don’t go”

“Y/N”

What is he doing? They just talked about trying to be friends, she knows about his feelings but he can’t go around blowing up her phone. He’s just sad about Sofia, how could he expect her to stay after he confessed to her that he still had feelings for his ex who wasn’t really his ex? 

She asks him what he’s doing and he asks to meet her. She tells him no, and that it’s too late to d this. Too late in the day, too late because the show is about to start, and too late because she’s going and she doesn’t want him. 

After telling Cleo to haul ass to the arena. Needing to speak to her about the Rafe of it all. She runs to the bus to hide. She doesn’t want to see him so she’ll avoid the arena. 

She doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t find her inside, he’ll look for her on the bus. 

“Y/N?” She hears him call. She’s in her bunk, curtain drawn and holding her breath. He walks closer and stands in front of her bunk. She can see his shadow. 

“I know you’re in there.” She stays quiet still. “Please talk to me.” She sighs, not able to deny him when he sounds so sad. 

She draws the curtain open and meets his eyes. 

“We talked about this.”

“No, we talked about how I would try to be your friend. Not how you’re going to move away with your boyfriend.”

“What did you expect me to do? Sit at home alone for however long the break ends up being?”

“No, I thought we could hang out when we were both home and repair our friendship or whatever.”

“Rafe, I can’t do that. I won’t put my life on hold for you anymore.”

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just feel the same way? Why won’t you love me?” 

She’s surprised by his words. For the first time, she looks at him. Takes in his dishevelled appearance, his jittering hands, and the dilation of his pupils. 

“Are you high?” she swings herself off her bed to get as much distance between them as possible. 

“No.” He’s lying. 

“What the fuck Rafe? Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Because I’m fucking sad okay? And I don’t want to feel anything.” She can’t believe he would go down this road again,  after being clean for so long. She can’t believe he would be around her like this. Not when he knows how many bad memories it brings.

“You have to leave. You have to get away from me.”

“Y/N.” His voice cracks.

“No. You know my history, the shit I have been through because of drugs. You know it very well actually. I don’t need to be around your erratic behaviour. It’s triggering, it hurts me.” Her voice is firm. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” he backs up turning around quickly and storming off the bus. 

She sits back down, her hands slightly shaking. If he’s using again, she doesn't know if she can have him in her life. 

+++

He’s happy Sarah’s the one that finds him. He’s spread out on the floor. The curtain covers him from the fans' curious eyes. The stage is quiet, with only a few people coming and going. The rest of the crew’s at dinner. 

“What are you doing?” She stares from above him.

“Laying.” He mumbles

“Are you not going to come eat dinner?” She points behind her in the direction of the lunch room.

“Not hungry.”

“What’s wrong?

“Sad.” He sees the annoyance at his one-word answers cross her face. 

“Rafe, full sentences please.”

“Y/N told me to go away. That she couldn’t be around me.” She crouches down next to him. 

“I thought you two were trying to be friends?” she questions. 

“I ruined it.” He can feel himself well up. 

“How?”

“By being high.”

“You are not.” she kneels left to him now, grabbing his face roughly and bringing it so his eyes are aligned with hers. 

“I am.” She looks angry at him. He feels tears start to gather. God, why does he make the women he cares most about in his life so upset?

“You can’t be high. You’re an addict.”

“Just weed. Nothing more.”

“I don’t care if it’s just weed. It’s not just weed for you. It’s a slippery slope. You go from weed to forgetting you’re sober, to cocaine.”

“I’m sorry.” The pity in her look makes his stomach twist.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up before the show. You need food and to sober up.”

“I’ll be sad though.” She stands up, extending her hand out for him to take. 

“You’re high and sad, I don’t think it helped.”

“That’s what the cocaine is for.” He jokes, it doesn’t earn him a laugh, just a scowl.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Maybe he can get drunk after the show, then he’ll forget how sad he is. 

+++

The show goes off without a hitch. They are all smiles, dripping with sweat as they take the final bow of the tour. Tears are prickling her eyes as she looks over at Topper. His smile was big and shining. She looks at Rafe and he’s messing with Barry’s hair, a burst of laughter leaving him as Barry jumps on his back. Barry waves to the crowd as Rafe piggybacks him off. Topper grabs her hand and pulls her off the stage, waving one last time before they can’t be seen anymore. 

Julio waits for her, a huge grin on his face and his arms wide open for her to run into. Once she lets go of him, she hugs Cleo and then Pope, and then she’s tackled by JJ, Kie, and John B. 

“You all killed it!” JJ yells in her ear, making her jolt back. 

“Fucking best show we’ve ever played!” Topper screams, coming up to her and hugging her. Barry joins the hug putting his sweaty arms around them both. Rafe hesitantly joins the group hug. 

“Another successful tour,” he says, his eyes catching hers in the huddle. She smiles softly. 

“Let’s go party!” Kie screams from down the hallway where she’s started to walk away. 

Everyone starts cheering and following her lead. She finds Julio’s hand as they make their way to gather their stuff and leave the arena. 

+++

He spots Julio come in through the back doors of the club, Y/N hanging off his arm, her lips swollen. His eyes soften when he looks at her. He sees how much he loves her, and how he would never hurt her. He would go to the ends of the world for her. And he hates him. He can’t stand that she’s not hanging off his arm. That he’s not the one kissing her against a brick wall outside a sleazy bar. 

Sofia’s gone. They’re done. And he’s hurting for the relationship that he could have had if he had let go of Y/N. Not that he ever could have. It wasn’t in the cards for him. A world where he wasn’t irrevocably in love with her didn’t exist. 

“You okay?” Sarah comes up next to him, planting her hands on the table to steady herself. 

“I’m high again.” He confesses. 

“Rafe, we talked about this.”

“I get that I just can’t stop. Everything hurts.” They look of pity from earlier returns.

“You need to stop.” He looks past her to where Y/N is.

“It’s just weed.”

“You don’t get to do weed. It’s not just weed to you. Slippery slope remember?

“I know.” 

“I’m here for you. I think you need to go back to rehab. Either before you tour or after. It needs to be sooner rather than later.  I’ll drive you there myself.” She offers. 

The idea of going back to rehab irks him. He’s not as bad as he was last time. He has control over it. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

“I don’t know how to be okay watching her be with someone else.” Sarah looks behind her at Y/N with Julio. Her smile lit up the room. Her laugh was music to his ears. 

“You don’t get to break down about this. You made your choice. Let her be happy. you need to focus on staying sober, you heal, and you move on.” 

“How?” He can’t rip his eyes away from the couple. Wishing with everything in him that it was him with her.

“By being her friend, Rafe.” She pats him on the back. He watches as she follows Topper out the back door where Y/N and Julio had come through earlier. 

Everything he and Sarah talked about flies out the window when Julio of all people see him standing there with a little bag full of who knows what that Barry gave him. Barry’s drunk and high, that’s one of the only reasons he gave it to him. Barry would kill him any other time. 

He’s been toying around with the idea of just doing it. Taking all these pills and getting it over with. 

“You probably shouldn’t take those.” Rafe side glances at him but doesn’t speak.”

“If you’re doing that shit you shouldn’t be around her.” Rafe doesn’t like him and he likes him even less when he tells him if he can or can’t be around Y/N.

“Mind your business.” He barks out.

“This is my business, you know why? Because she’s my business. And she’s a recovering addict too, Rafe. Or did you forget?” He shrugs. 

“Look, I don’t care if you care about your sobriety. But we both know you care about her enough not to risk hers. So if you’re going to do that shit, don’t bring it around her. And stay away from her.” This is the angriest he has ever heard the dark-haired man. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do on my tour with my friends.”  Deep down he knows Julio’s right. Right now he doesn’t care what the man says. He wants to fight him. 

“Do whatever the hell you want with yourself, I’m asking you to please, stay away from Y/N if you’re going to do drugs.”

“So you’re isolating her now too.”

“What does that mean?” Julio looks at him, one eyebrow raised, lips tight.

“You’re going to take her away. You’re taking her away from her family and her friends, to live in a country where she knows nobody. What kind of boyfriend does that?” 

“I’m taking her away from you, right?” 

“Yeah, you are.” The words spill from him before he can even think of denying them. 

“She isn’t anyone’s to take away. She makes her own decisions and she chose to be with me.” Julio saying shit like that makes him feel like he thinks he’s the best option. The best man out there.

“Shut up. You’re not better than me just because you say that stuff.”

“I’m not better than anyone, just let her be.” He doesn’t say anything. Julio stands up.

“You had your chance. Let her go.” He stays quiet. Julio starts to walk away. 

“I can’t.” He sees as Julio’s steps stutter.

“I’m going to fight for her.” 

“There’s nothing left to fight for.” He walks away. Back into her arms. Where he wishes he could be.

+++

The two weeks back home in Kildare were filled with press and interviews. Filled with people asking them when the next album was and when they would be back. He was scheduled to go to rehab after two weeks back home but due to scheduling, they had to move his tour up. Y/N was already in Spain. She spent a bit of time with her family, made sure everything was good and then flew off to Europe, taking his heart with her.

They were okay again, he had explained that he would go to rehab and try to get himself under control again. She told him that she was proud of him and that she wished him all the best. She told him that she wouldn’t be able to make it to his first show but that she would be there for his last. She hugged him goodbye on her last day on the island and told him that he would see her soon. 

The engagement scare still circulated in his brain. He’s so afraid that she would get engaged while she was away and he would truly lose her forever. Whenever he thought about it he felt like throwing up. 

One month. One month and he would see her again. 

+++

She stayed with Julio’s family for three weeks in Madrid before they had to go to Valencia where he had to film. She liked being in Madrid the most because she knew how to get around and she could stay at Julio’s house. In Valencia, they’re staying in a hotel so she doesn’t have the comfort of her things. She’ll go to the set with him most of the time but other times they are such long shoots she’d rather do anything else. She wants to explore but she’s so directionally challenged she’s scared to get lost and never return, her map couldn’t even save her sometimes. 

Julio cooks for her every day, he teaches her how to cook some dishes he learned in his classes, they write songs together, and she runs songs by him which turns into them taking turns serenading each other. They drunkenly kiss under street lights and dance in the rain. She’s never felt happier, ever been so in love. 

A month in and she’s back in Los Angeles where Rafe’s playing his last show. She’s excited to be here for him but she’s counting down the hours until she can go back to Spain. 

When she gets home she checks to see that her house hasn’t been broken into and that all pipes are still in place. Her worst nightmare is returning to a flooded house. It all seems normal, she opens a few windows to air it out. Penny’s back in Spain with Julio so she feels extra alone. 

She texts Rafe that she’s back in town and he texts her back within a minute. 

“Thank you for coming, angel.” She smiles at the nickname and responds,

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He sees her and his world stops. Her hair is in loose waves and it looks a little longer than when he had last seen her. His heart reaches out to her, begging to be in her presence. Sarah notices him there standing like an idiot and waves him over, the motion grabbing Y/N’s attention. 

“Hey,” he says walking over.

“Hi!” She says putting her arms out to him, she goes on her tippy toes to reach him. 

“How are you?” He asks her, slowly letting go. 

“I’m good! Jetlagg is kicking my ass, but happy to be here! Look at you, rockstar.” She has a wide smile on her face that makes him feel like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.

“Yeah,” he laughs a little, scratching the back of his neck, shy all of a sudden.

“I heard a little rumour that Sofia was around?”

“I invited her to a show, extending a branch and all and we talked but that ship has sailed.”

“Are you on good terms?”

“I think we could be better, but it’s okay, I’m not holding my breath.” She links her arm with his, he looks at where their arms connect and feels like he’s on fire. How is he ever going to get over her?

+++

Rafe is amazing. He’s in a class of his own when he’s up on stage giving the show of a lifetime. It makes her tear up. She can’t help but think how he almost gave this all up when they were younger. She can’t imagine him anywhere but the stage. If he were working for his dad, his star would be caged. She’s so happy she could be a small part of his journey. He deserves the world. 

For the first time since they started talking again, she feels like they can go back to normal. She loves him. She can have her best friend back. 

+++

She doesn’t know how fast everything can fall apart. It’s perfect. Too perfect. She should have known that the other shoe would drop sooner or later. That’s how her life goes. She should have known she couldn’t have everything she wants. Things get ripped away eventually.

Rafe and Topper had mentioned that there were rumours they might have to go on a festival run. She hasn’t heard anything from their manager or their label. She likes the idea of a festival run, it could get them playing in front of people who don’t know who they are and expose them to new crowds.

She misses performing, she knows this would cut her time in Spain short. Much shorter than anticipated. She’s supposed to be there for almost seven months, with a bit of travelling back and forth until Julio finishes filming and they can stay in New York for a while. 

She’s only been here for three months. It’s been so nice to be back with Julio full time, and get to do normal couple things after work. She doesn’t know how she’ll break the news to him. She chooses not to until she knows for sure. 

The peace is short-lived. 

“What is this?” Julio holds up the phone for her to take. She grabs his phone and looks at Boston Calling’s festival lineup. She reads trying to see what he’s talking about and finally finds what he’s asking about. Saturday, May 8th: Kildare Split B stage. 

“I promise I didn’t know anything about this.” She tries to reassure him.

“That’s in two weeks.” He says to her, she feels the emotion in his voice.

“I know. I’ll talk to them.” She gives him his phone back and wraps her arms around him. 

“I’m sorry.” They stay wrapped up in each other, silence overtaking them.

+++

“Ash, no one told me. I just thought I had more time.”

“There’s nothing we can do, we have the contract, you’re expected here.” She slides her hand over her face and sighs. 

“Okay. That’s fine, but I’m leaving right after, no press.”

“Y/N, that’s not the only festival. You’ll be doing stops all spring and summer.” Her stomach drops. 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“I’m sorry. The label will make no exceptions. You have to be here for every show.”

+++

She cries in Julio’s arms about having to leave so soon. He tells her it’s okay and that it’s nothing that they aren’t used to. She hates being used to being so far from him. She already misses him. 

They try to get back to normal for the remainder of the time but something shifts. She can’t quite place it. She doesn’t know if it’s her or if it’s him. It feels off. For the first time since they met, it feels like they’re orbiting around different stars. 

They’re returning to their apartment from lunch with one of his co-stars when her world starts to crack. She knows what he’s thinking before he even says it out loud. His eyes are sad and she can read him. She’s never hated him a day since they met. Not until now. She tries to distract herself, tries changing the subject, she tells him she’s going to shower and get ready for bed. 

In the shower, she tries to scrub away the doubt and rubs at her skin to try and rid herself of the feeling. Impending doom. The world ending. A black hole fiding her universe and destroying it before she can do anything to stop it. 

When she gets out of the shower he’s sitting on the edge of their bed facing her, she’s still trying to avoid it, she kisses his cheek and turns away. He stops her from walking away by grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him. She doesn’t face him. She can’t.

“This is so hard.” His voice comes out hoarse.

“Then don’t do it.” 

“I love you so much it hurts.” It’s not supposed to hurt. He taught her that. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“You said we could get through it. You said that it was nothing we hadn’t done.”

“I know what I said. I thought I could.”

“And now you can’t.” He looks at her, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I wish things could be different.”

“No. No. No. Stop, no, you don’t get to break up with me.” She’s screaming, the tears already spilling from her eyes. She’s never felt so crazy. And her world falls apart. She doesn’t remember a time before her life was him and her.

“Y/N. You know I love you, I would do anything for you, and this is the right thing to do.”

“No. You don’t get to choose what is right for me. I do. And I choose you. I always choose you.”

“It’s not feasible. Being away from you. It hurts too much. It hurts you and it hurts me. I can’t do 

it. My heart breaks every time you leave.”

“I’ll do anything.” Tears fall from his eyes as he gulps.

“Moving here is not realistic for you, you were supposed to be here for way longer and look, you leave in three days. I don’t blame you. It’s everything you’ve worked for and I won’t be the person that holds you back.” She’s sobbing now, she can’t see him over her tears, she’s shaking and desperate to get him to listen. To keep him. 

“I’ll quit the band.” It comes tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it. she grabs his face and makes him look at her. “I’ll quit.” He looks at her eyes wide. 

“No.”

“Julio, please.”

“You don’t mean that, you’ll resent me and you won’t be happy and it’ll ruin us.”

“I won’t. I promise.” She’d never heard these sounds come out of her body before, so guttural and painful from somewhere deep inside her. 

“You will. You would never ask me to quit acting, would you?”

“No,” she whines, the tears flowing.

“Then how could I ask you to quit your dreams?” He’s right. She knows he is and it fucking hurts. She wants to rip her heart out. She’s never felt pain like this and she wishes she could have never met him. 

That’s not true, the thought of never having him in her life hurts. No matter how painful this moment is, the realization that their relationship is over is, she would never take back the years she spent with him. He showed her what it meant to be loved. How it felt to be seen and wanted. He taught her selflessness in love. She would never take it back. She needs to numb the pain. 

She falls into his arms, her face on his chest as she cries and cries. He holds her like he never wants to let go and cries with her. God how she wishes she could live another life. How she wishes they could be other people. In another life, she thinks. In another life. 

He’s what she wants, but she’s not what he needs. Because she’s hurting him. She’s been hurting him and he can’t put up with it anymore. She’s not worth it.

She books her flight for that night. Not wanting to prolong their inevitable goodbye. She watches as he closes the door to his apartment. The last time she’ll be here. They hold hands on the way down to his car and then as he drives her to the airport where he kisses her for the last time. Kisses her goodbye. And she gets on the plane and cries all the way home. The flight attendant keeps bringing her water and the people around her are whispering. She closes the curtains around her pod. Her eyes focus on the sides of the window as the frost builds like little spider webs reaching out to her.

She loves him. She loves him. She can’t believe this.

+++

She gets to her house. Penny next to her. She sets her stuff down next to the door and collapses into a pile of skin, bone, and numbness. Her heart missing. Her heart was somewhere back in Spain with the boy he dragged her out of her isolation and brought her back to life. How could she ever be okay again?

She doesn’t leave her house or her bed until the day she has to be on a flight to Boston. She has about 100 missed calls and a billion unopened text messages. She doesn’t care to talk to anyone. Doesn’t want to explain the breakup. 

+++

She can feel herself isolating. To the way, things were before him. She’s in a room full of people and she feels the most alone she’s ever been. She waves everyone off, not giving them a second glance. She marches on stage, she plays the show with a missing heart. Pretending she’s okay. The band sees right through her, the fans don’t know better. 

Everyone is worried about her. Ash forces her to come out with the band and crew. She’s probably scared she’ll overdose if she’s on her own. All the telltale signs of how she used to be. They’re keeping an eye on her. 

She doesn’t feel like she’s in her body, she’s floating through life right now. She walks out onto the balcony, needing fresh air. 

Everyone’s dancing as she sits on the balcony and stares at the night sky. The wind makes goose bumps rise on her skin. She feels another tear try and escape her eye. She blinks it away before it can. She’s so tired of crying all the time. 

“Hey, you.” Topper steps out into the crisp air. 

“Hey,” she whispers, trying to cover that she’s been crying. 

“You okay?”

“No.”

“It’ll be okay. Sometimes love just doesn’t last. It happens and it’ll pass.”

“We didn’t break up because we didn’t love each other. If the distance didn’t exist I would still be with him. I would choose him over and over again but I was hurting him and in turn, I was hurting myself and neither of us expected or would accept the other quitting their dream jobs to move. So we’re done and it fucking hurts, Top. I saw forever with him. I haven’t felt that way about anyone ever. Part of me thinks that one day, when we’re both settled and not chasing the next best thing, we’ll be together.” She’s choking up, tears spilling over.

“Come here,” he opens his arms to her and she falls into them, “I’m here for you.” she looks over his shoulder to where Rafe is with their friends. 

“For now I just want to drink and cry and sleep for three weeks. I want the pain to stop. I don’t want to feel.” She pulls back from Topper, grabbing his arm and dragging him back inside. 

She would forget. At least for tonight.

+++

Her head pounds in the morning. She would blame all the crying she’s been doing but it’s mostly the alcohol. Cleo would kill her if she knew how much she was drinking again. She opens her eyes and looks around the half-lit room, the morning sun peeking through the curtains. The curtains are on the wrong side of the room. She looks around some more and notices clothes thrown on the floor. Men’s clothes. This isn’t her room. 

She remembers bits of the night before, kissing and touching in the elevator ride, the fight to find his room key, looking into his blue eyes and forgetting the name of the man with the brown eyes. At least for a moment. She blinks as if that would stop the headache.  

“Shit.” She hears from beside her. She slowly turns her head until her eyes meet the blue eyes staring back at her. 

“Top.”

“Fuck.”

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks au #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smau #kildaresplit au

[huhniebowl]

Tomato Paste

dominic fike x reader

warning(s): nonee! well…he has an eyebrow piercing. again. it’s just gonna be canon for my fics now lmao

a/n: this is so cute, i loved writing and working on this omg. i really am a slow writer, so i apologize for being so slow with your requests😭

i hope you love this, thank you for requesting! <3

¥

"20 minutes, tops," You declare with your pointer finger, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

"Can’t believe you forgot the tomato paste.” You mutter, slipping into your shoes, “Was probably starting at tits or something.”

Dominic raises an eyebrow, eyes lingering on your white tank top that’s tightly clinging to your body.

"Yeah, yours." He teases, locking his phone and winking at your boobs.

You gasp, clutching your shirt dramatically. "Fucking perv."

Dom pulls off his hoodie and tosses it over to you.

“20 minutes!” He reiterates. “I didn’t forget about that oat milk trip. We were there for damn near a decade.”

You laugh, that store trip was a disaster. You couldn’t decide on what brand was better. You ended up getting none of them and Dom was shivering by the time you left because he lended you his sweatshirt while in the dairy section.

“Yeah, yeah!” You call back, tugging on his hoodie.

“It’s just tomato paste. I got this baby. Trust me.” You wink, snag his keys from the key bowl, and blow him a kiss before slamming the door behind you.

Your relationship is still new, blossoming beautifully at the five-month mark.

Every visit felt weightless, a comfortable ease settling between you. He has a worn green mug by the sink, its familiar chipped rim and, coffee stains a silent welcome every morning.

In your top drawer, boxers and a pair of his mismatched socks, faded blue with cartoon ninja turtles, peeks out from your panties.

And tucked in your living room bookshelf, a framed photo of the two of you at the beach when he officially asked to be your boyfriend.

He’s easily made himself at home.

You agreed to tell your parents about each other once you reached half a year. It was your idea, believing that you and Dominic would be well past the honeymoon phase by then.

Which was proved true by month four.

Dominic digs through the fridge and pulls out a bowl of fresh fruit you had washed and cut up earlier.

With a bottle of water tucked into his sweatpants pocket, he plops down on the living room couch, opens up Netflix, and starts an episode of Supernatural.

Despite knowing you’re gone, he still glances at the front door. He knows he shouldn’t be watching this without you, but the last episode you left off on was too good of a cliffhanger.

He’s about halfway through the show when an insistent jiggling of the front doorknob echos through the house.

Sam and Dean’s fight starts to blur as panic floods Dominic's vision. No way you were back already – He knows you said twenty minutes, but he didn’t think you were serious!

His palms are slick, the remote slipping and sliding in his cold sweat.

A frantic scramble, a muted click – Sam and Dean vanish. Throwing the remote, Dom snatches his phone, adopts a posture of casual indifference, and opens a random app.

The door creaks open, a sound that scrapes against his already frayed nerves.

"Hey babe," He manages, attempting nonchalance. Silence answers him.

Then his phone vibrates with a text.

You MY PARENTS R COMING TO THE HOUSE THEY HUNG UP BEFORE I COULD MENTION U kjhasjhdf IM SO SORRY I’m hurrying home now omg

His eyes scan the frantic message. A torrent of misspelled words tumbled across the screen, punctuated by a desperate string of emojis that only you would send.

His heart, already doing a nervous stutter, plummets straight to his stomach. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet.

“Holy fucking,” Dominic starts under his breath, but he’s cut off by a voice that an tone lower than his will ever be.

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?”

“Shit.” He finishes.

Dominic steels himself, taking a deep breath and rising to his feet. A charming smile, practiced a thousand times over, plasters itself onto his face as he turns around to face your parents.

The first thing that strikes him is the resemblance you have to your mother. You share her eyes and cheekbones, though hers were softened by time, their edges less sharp than yours. Age has been kind to her; she radiates a quiet beauty that makes Dominic clench his fists.

Not to hide his nervousness, but to sedate a far away thought - a vision of you, years down the line, etched with the same kind aging your mother was graced with, perhaps with children by your side, their eyes mirroring yours, but with his nose.

"Um, this isn't exactly how I pictured our first meeting," Dominic begins, his voice a touch higher than usual. He clears his throat, the nervous chuckle a hollow sound.

"I'm Dominic. Dominic Fike. I've, uh, been dating your daughter for the past five months and a half."

He addresses them formally, and by your last name, extending a hand for a handshake. Their expressions are unreadable at the mention of his name, a blank canvas that sends a jolt of relief through him.

The last thing he needed was for them to recognize him from some outrageous thing he’s said on the internet. A shiver runs down his spine, a phantom memory of his last concert ramble.

How he hasn’t launched into a word vomit, or worse, blacked out entirely, is a mystery. Dealing with fame has its drawbacks - the unpredictable interviews he loathes, the constant fan interactions.

None, however, have ever felt this paralyzing.

His heart pounds frantically in his ears as your dad gives him a thorough once-over. It's narrows on his chest, lingers on his arms. He’s confused at the interest of his body, then his confusion morphs into a sickening realization.

He’s fucking shirtless.

"Fuck," He mutters under his breath.

Your dad's eyebrows shoot up. He eyes your boyfriend as if he just declared his love for a rival sports team.

"Excuse me, son?" Dominic winces. A cold sweat prickles his skin. He flinches back and yanks his outstretched hand like he’s been burned. He throws a desperate glance at your mom, silently begging for her help.

She's been quiet the whole time. But when she meets Dominic's eyes, a small smile graces her lips. She rests a calming hand on your dad's shoulder.

"Why don't you go freshen up," She suggests, voice soft. "Maybe put on a shirt, and then we’ll go from there.”

Dominic nods vigorously.

"Yes ma’am of course, good call. So so sorry." He practically sprints towards your room, throwing another mumbled apology over his shoulder.

"Did you see the face tats? The Xs on his eyelids? That damn eyebrow piercing?" He hears your dad whisper yell to your mom.

Dominic closes your bedroom door shut, finally allowing himself to exhale the breath he didn't know he was holding.

He leans against the door, head tilted back in defeat, when another horrifying thought hits him.

It's laundry day.

And before you left, you'd tossed the first load in the washer. The load that, of course, included all the clothes he's left at your place. The hoodie he gave you before you left was the last clean thing he had.

"This can't be happening," He whispers, dragging a hand down his face. He stumbles over to the closet and flicks on the light. Panic clouds his judgment. Scanning your clothes, he snatches the first thing he sees folded on the top shelf.

Your baby pink sweatshirt.

He's just pulling it on when he hears the front door open again. Your voice, laced with slight urgency, filters through.

He lets out a deep breath, not bothering to check his reflection, and jogs out of the room.

He rounds the corner and sees you. Relief washes over him, momentarily melting his anxiety. You turn from your parents at the sound of his footsteps, about to launch into an apology, but the words die on your lips.

The moment he's close enough, Dominic practically throws himself at you, burying his face in your neck. He doesn't care that your parents are watching. He was just short of possibly passing out, and all he craves is the comfort you always seem to radiate.

You understand instantly, and glare at your parents over his shoulder.

Your arms tighten around Dominic's lower back as you stroke his hair with a comforting hand. You feel him relax against you, and turn your face to plant a soft kiss on his head.

"You okay?" You murmur against his hair.

Dominic manages a small nod, but he doesn't stay wrapped in you for as long as he'd like. Steeling himself, for the umpteenth time today, he straightens up, and faces your parents.

With a newfound confidence blooming in his chest with you by his side, he clears his throat.

“I really apologize for earlier. I wasn’t expecting to meet you both so soon.” He reaches out for your hand. His voice holds a hint of nervousness, but he sounds sure of himself now.

“I love your daughter very much and go above and beyond to make sure she knows that.” He continues, his gaze flickers between your parents. "I hope in time you both will see that."

You beam with pride at your boyfriend's attempt to win over your folks. Your dad, however, remains unconvinced, a furrow etched between his brows. Your mom, on the other hand, wears a blinding smile.

An awkward silence stretches, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of a wall clock. Finally, your mom swats the back of your dad's head. He yelps, bewildered, before his eyes dart between you and your mom. Throwing his hands up, he finally speaks up,

"There’s still much to unpack here. And frankly, those tats and piercings are ridiculous." Dominic shrugs and nods - rubbing the back of his neck.

"But," Your dad breathes, a hint of a begrudging smile playing on his lips, "You seem to have won my daughter over. And since she's basically a carbon copy of me, I trust her judgment."

You and your mom roll your eyes.

Your dad’s eyes then drop to Dominic's sweatshirt. His right eyebrow shoots up as he grumbles something under his breath, then shakes his head in defeat before stalking off towards the kitchen.

You glance down at your boyfriends long sleeve, your eyes widening in realization. Your hand flys to cover your mouth.

Your mom watches your dad go, a hint of amusement in her eyes. She then turns to Dominic, a warm smile still gracing her lips.

"Welcome to the family, hun," She says, squeezing his arm. The gesture sends pure relief through him. He manages to smile back.

"Thank you," He squeezes her hand back, voice genuine. "Happy to be here."

Your mom nods curtly and follows after your dad into the kitchen. The moment she's out of earshot, you drop your hand and let out a loud, unrestrained laugh. Dominic gives you a look, assuming it was fueled by his earlier distress.

"Maybe pay a little more attention next time you raid my closet," You wheeze, doubling over as you lean on his shoulder for support.

That's when it hits him. He remembers your dad's gaze at his shirt. He looks down in haste.

Stitched in bright pink threading and surrounded by a ridiculous amount of hearts and sparkles were the words: "FIKE'S BABYDOLL."

"Oh come the fuck on," He groans.

What the hell even was this last hour.

He glances down at you, now sprawled on the floor, tears wetting your face from laughter. The sound is infectious, and before he can help it, a smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah okay, did you get the tomato paste atleast?”

You stop laughing.

#dominic fike fan fiction #dominic fike imagines #dominic fike smut #elliot #elliot euphoria #elliot imagine #elliot smut #dominic fike imagine #elliot euphoria imagine #elliot fanfic #dominic fike x reader #dominic x reader #elliot x reader #elliot euphoria fanfic #elliot imagines #elliot euphoria fanfiction #elliot euphoria x reader #dominic fike fic #dominic fike fics #dominic fike fluff #dominic fike

[fastidious-and-a-mess]

i’m at fabian writing the essay and holy shit this is maybe my favorite episode of the season so far.

#fhjy spoilers #fhjy #dimension 20 #guys holy shit the mechanics in this one are so fucking good #yall remember when brennan’s mom told that story about him Wanting it to be a test? #i have that same thing and this episode is the most beautiful thing i have ever witnessed re satisfying that particular sensation #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year

[baiwu-jinji]

TGCF author's notes translation

@/camilikha on twitter kindly provided links to TGCF author's notes and I translated the ones I find informative and interesting. See translations below:

chapter 58 notes: The second book is all about the overconfident Xie Lian with delusions of grandeur and the tender little flower (mxtx means kid Hua Cheng) and their diaries of the downfall of Xianle. Word count is undecided, I'm never accurate at estimating word counts anyway. It's just like the xianxia I write doesn't fit into your regular xianxia, the royalty I write doesn't fit into your regular fictional depictions of royalty - just the outlandish made-up worlds and social customs in the author's imagination...

chapter 60 notes: If we put Qi Rong in a modern context, we could say that he has bipolar disorder.

chapter 72 notes: about the chapter title "To Meet You in the Mortal Realm; to Find Flowers Beneath the Rain" - eventually I feel that "To Meet You" is more romantic than "To Meet Someone". Just think about it, "meeting you" is one of the most romantic things in the world.

chapte 80 notes: Of course (HC) won't give (XL) a handjob or help him [...], but Huahua's sexual awakening starts with this incident... (XL is seriously obssessed with martial arts combat!)

chapter 88 notes: Xie Lian never gets tanned, I envy him... I finally reached this place - in a dilapidated temple, a god about to be forgotten and a believer who's still young - this is the first mental image I have about this story, which drove me to wrote the story. I'm the kind of person who'd make up a whole book just to get to write a certain passage...

chapter 119 notes: Actually Huahua is just being naughty and wants to joke around playing dead, who'd have thought...

chapter 123 notes: So Black Water made his appearance long ago, he's been hanging around before your eyes all along. Wind Master never knew the real Mingyi, it's always been the same person before him - and before you readers. (Black Water) officially recognized as Best Actor of this story! I've been holding it a secret for so long and so has he, now I can finally let it out.

chapter 141 notes: If you heat up Huahua in the kiln, he'll grow bigger~

chapter 175 notes: "Hua Cheng! Your diary! We've read it all!!!"

chapter 229 notes: Huahua low-key sucking up to the elderly to make a good impression

chapter 242 notes: Why do you like to spook yourselves? - why on earth would there be such plots as (XL) waiting for another 800 years - too long, impossible! Happy ending is around the corner!

SVSSS is my first work so it has some exceptions that I won't discuss here, but MDZS and TGCF both only have one main couple. I said this repeatedly in the author's notes when MDZS was being serialized and in other places. As for Mo Xuanyu, he is a little gay dude but he died at the beginning of the story so he doesn't count as a serious character...It's fine to have headcanons you like as long as you don't seperate the main couple. But for me personally, my taste leans towards having only one gay couple in the story, and I have no plans to write about another secondary couple. I'm stating this to avoid some unnecessary disputes.

XL is good at making pickled vegetables. Because pickled vegetables are needed with steamed bun and rice porridge, so XL became quite experienced after practicing for hundreds of years. Also you can just leave the pickled vegetable by itself most of the time and let it undergo chemical reaction. XL mostly fail because he get inventive.

XL and Mu Qing chose the same path of cultivation and are both Daoists. But Feng Xin never studied under a master at the Holy Royal Pavillion so he's not a Daoist and simply a plebeian martial god, so he doesn't need to observe the celibacy rules like XL and Mu Qing.

My passion for inventing new dishes (or rather weapons) cooked by Xie Lian is only slightly less than my passion for making Huahua change into new clothes

Huahua often turn into human forms, in which he has two eyes, so you guys can stop counting the number of his eyes.

In the setting of this story, if you want to be a god,you need to be a human hero first, which means you need to be the best of the best among humans. Only heaven officials who ascended are real heaven officials and belong in the Upper Court. How do you ascend? Firstly it depends on your personal ability, you have to be outstanding in some aspect (such as martial arts or literary talents) to enter the path of ascension. Secondly it depends on luck, if you're extremely lucky and a favourite of fate, and just picked up some rare secret guides (to ascension) or immortal pills by the roadside, that works too. Officials in the Middle Court are appointed, which means someone in the Heavenly Realm could promote you to that position. But Middle Court officials have the opportunity to become a bona fide Upper Court official too if they're capable enough.

Black Water indeed owes Hua Cheng a huge sum of money and is a very impoverished Calamity, seriously lowering the income standard of the Calamities (although there're only three of them). But his debt isn't completely due to eating too much. As for the money Black Water owes, it's an ancient debt - 40% is the cost of buying gifts for heaven officials of Upper Court and planting agents there (bribery!), 30% is maintenance fee for his territory and expenses on pet food, the rest 30% is food (for himself).

Talismans are probably the equivalent of the business cards (of heaven officials)... "Hello this is my consecrated talisman" = "hello this is my business card"

You can't get rid of ghostly essence (which XL is tainted with because he spends too much time with HC) simply by brushing your teeth with plain water...you need to use consecrated spell water (which is super bitter and weird).

The weapon forged by a heaven official is called fabao (literally "dharma treasure"); if it's a weapon forged by mortal Daoists and monks, it's called faqi (literally "dharma tool") - only after their ascension can their weapons be called fabao.

In my imagination, Xianle ia the kind of small ancient kingdom that's overall culturally Han, but has peculiar customs...although I feel like what I wrote on Xianle is mostly just peculiar hahahaha [facepalm] [beat myself up]

Not only are the forms, customs, cultures, and politics of countries in this story made-up, the kind of arcane stuff like occult sciences and philosophical values are all made-up. Although I did research but the records I consulted are too difficult to understand, so I just made things up on my own. Please bear with me If you're knowledgable in this sort of thing hahaha.

Puqi refers to water chestnut.

Look up "Blood-Soaked Fire Social" (xue she huo) if you're interested, it exists in real life and is very thrilling. What I wrote is different from the traditional festival, there're some made-up elements to make it more exciting

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian

[resi4skz]

Title: Starstruck (pt2)

Pairings: idol!Chan x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, bike s*x

‼️MDNI‼️

Part 1

"Right in here, please," I say as I put a checkmark on the list of things to put away before closing the bakery. "I need everything to go smoothly as possible on Monday."

"Why are you so snappy?"

I turn, giving Luna a confused look. "I'm not snappy."

"Uh huh," she rolls her eyes as she took off her apron. "Let's go before you start hyperventilating about seeing their fanmeet in about," she glances at her wrist watch, "3 hours."

"I don't know what to wear."

"Alright. Let's go."

"Where we going?"

---------------------------------------------------------

We arrived at the venue an hour earlier and we showed the tickets to the vendor. "Ah, right this way please." He leads us to a different enterance and I glance at the back, seeing others standing in line with merch.

"But-"

"Ma'am, these are VIIP tickets. It gives you access to backstage."

"Okay. He's definitely going in the good books," Luna says smiling.

"Jeez, how much do you think he spent of these tickets?"

"Honestly? Probably a lot, but who knows?" She shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe he got them knowing you were coming."

Fuck. How do you expect to me to act after knowing this information?

We walk around the staff and stand just right to the main stage. The butterflies in my stomach right now is nothing compared to what it would've been watching them from the front. This was their 4th fanmeet and I couldn't have been more happier for them. They have achieved so much in the past 6 years.

"Okay, wow. This is awesome," Luna says, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Are you sure I'm wearing the right clothes?"

"Yes, now stop fussing over it!"

She made me wear a black corset with black skirt, boots and a leather jacket. My hair was down in loose curls. Okay, maybe she does have some taste.

"Hey, you made it."

I turn around and I'm again blown away by he man in front of me. He was wearing a blue coat and pants with white shirt underneath, topped with black boots. And his hair was styled in a wavy look. And damn, he looked good. "I hope no one gave you trouble coming inside?"

"Uh, no. Everything went smoothly," I replied. I felt a poke on my arm. "Ah, right. This is my best friend, Luna."

"Oh, hi Luna. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," she waves nervously at him. I roll my eyes. Why did I even bring her with me?

Then more guys appear behind him. Oh my god. It's them. Leeknow, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, and I.N. The whole gang is here. Holy cannolli. This isn't real life.

"Alright, we gotta go. It's time for us to go on the stage," Chan states. For a second, I felt his eyes trail over me, my attire but he turned around and walked away with the group. I blinked, asking myself what happened.

But he turned around and walked straight to me. He takes my hand and says, "I'll see you later?"

I nod.

He smiles, his dimples on display. He leans in, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. "See you later, babygirl," he says, winking at me before sprinting back.

"Did he just....kiss you on the cheek? Wait. Am I dreaming?" Luna pinches her arm and hisses in pain. "Definitely not dreaming. Holy shit."

Holy shit was right.

Because their fanmeet was a success. They played small games, did dance challenges, did a lot of performances and by the end of it all, they were still happy and energetic. I don't think I've ever seen them be this happy before.

And their performances? Just wow. And with Chan in a sleeveless top? Those arms made me weak in the knees. "Stop drooling."

I sigh, feeling those butterflies again. "Luna, I'm not drooling."

"Is it me or is he only looking at you?"

"Who?" I asked as I follow the direction she pointed at. He's smiling, but his eyes show something else, something desperate as he looks at me. He disappears in the back rooms, probably to change and freshen up.

"Okay. You have my permission," Luna nods.

"Permission?" I blinked at her.

"To get thoroughly fucked by h-oompf."

I cover her mouth with my hand. "Are you insane?!"

She pries my hand off. "Do you not want to? You do know who he is, even as the biker tiktok dude."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

"Hey, I would've found out either way. But the question still remains."

"Which is?"

"Do you like him? Enough to take you, sweep you off your feet?"

"I mean yeah, but-"

"Oh. Here he comes."

He walks over, wearing all black. Very similar clothing to mine. "Ready?"

"Uh, are we leaving?"

"Yes. You and me. I wanna take you for a ride."

I look at Luna then back at him. I feel her hand on my back, giving me a little push. He grabs my hand, intertwining it with his own as we walk away, sprint more like, away from the book. "Wait. What about the res-" He stops, turns around and cups my face, he takes advantage of my surprised expression and swoops in for a kiss. When he pulls away, he smiles down at me before grabbing my hand again and walking outside.

What just happened?

---------------------------------------------------------

*CHAN'S POV*

The roar of the engine filled the night air as I zoomed down the empty road, the darkness engulfing me like a comforting shroud. The pair of gloves hands around my waist felt more comfortable than riding my bike alone. Her hands were small but god, did they feel good against me.

My headlights cut through the blackness ahead, illuminating the twisting road as it disappeared into the distance. The cool night air whipped against my helmet, the only sound besides the thundering of the engine. I was going to the place I had found a few weeks ago, where I could be this tiktok personality I made for myself.

I felt her arms tightened around me. Maybe she wasn't used to bike rides? Flashes of streetlights and neon signs painted the surroundings in streaks of light, blurring past in a colorful whirlwind. The occasional silhouette of a building or tree flashed by, casting eerie shadows in my path.

As I leaned into the curves, the sensation of speed combined with the solitude of the empty road created a thrilling sense of freedom. But with her behind me, it was more than freedom. I had been waiting for this day. I wanted to see her again because when I dropped her off at her place the other day, all I wanted to do was rip off that dress she wore.

It was then I knew that I was fucked. 100% fully fucked.

The city lights glimmered in the distance, a distant beacon guiding us on our journey through the night. In that moment, it was just me, my bike, Y/N and the open road stretching out before us—an endless expanse of possibility and adventure.

As I take a turn, I felt her hands wandering. Any lower, it would be dangerous territory. I grab her hand and squeeze. A warning. But as I speed off into the highway, her hands slide down low. Lower. Until they've reached their destination.

The little minx.

Through my baggy sweats, she uses her hands to grab my clothed dick and gives it a rub. Fuck. My hand tightens as I try to maintain my hormones at bay level till we were at the destination.

5 minutes.

She gives it another rub and I almost crash. This is going to be harder than I thought.

4 minutes.

I swerve into the left lane, as the traffic was faster and I wanted nothing more to reach the location faster than I had originally planned.

3 minutes.

I groan as her hands slide up and down a bit quicker. I grip her hand, stopping it.

2 minutes.

Reaching around my back, I find her ass cheek and gives it squeeze. Hard. I feel her jerk towards my back.

1 minute.

Taking a left turn, I see the familiar abandoned cliff as her hand reaches down again. I curse as I increase the speed of my bike. I need to get there faster.

30 seconds.

Slowing down the bike, I, very gently, park the bike.

15 seconds.

Turning off the ignition, I wait till she's off the bike. Then I climb off, unbuckle the clasp of my helmet before taking it off as she also takes her helmet off.

5 seconds.

I stare at her till she's composed herself. Then I'm on her.

*Y/N POV*

I don't get time to breathe as he's on me within seconds, our helmets long forgotten on the ground. Lips and teeth clashing as his hands slide around my back, giving it a slight push towards him. I felt his hardness on my lower tummy. "Wait," I lightly push him away. "I need to breathe."

His delicious mouth travels down to my jaw and neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. "Mmm, Channie," I moan as he sucks and bites a spot on my neck.

"You little minx," he breathes against my mouth. His hands travels to my hair and grabs a bunch before yanking on it lightly making my head tilt up a bit. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"I may know on some leve-, ah," I let out a yelp when he yanks on my hair.

"Brat." He growls, attacking my neck with wet kisses and biting the delicate skin. "I had to tell the boys I was going for my nightly rides," he gives a long sniff before coming up. "But they don't know I was going with you."

Fuck.

I'm then hoisted up on the bike as he settles himself between my legs and kisses me again. His kisses are desperate and dominating. I reach for his jeans when his hands grab my arm. "Nuh uh, baby." He makes me stand and spins me atound. "I need to be inside you."

"But, ah!" I moan as his palm makes contact with my right ass cheek as he bends me over.

He wastes no time and removes my black panties from under my skirt. "Damn. You're perfect." I hear something ripping which I think was a condom wrapper.

And then, in one swift motion, he snaps his hips into me. My eyes roll back in my head as I groan at his girth, feeling the stretch. "Fuck," I groan. I've imagined this moment in my delusional mind but this was beyond my dreams. "How are you this big?"

"Fuck, you're so tight," he moans as he pulls out completely before snapping his hips against me. "This cunt was made for me, fuck you feel so good."

"Chan."

He gradually picks up speed as his hand travel around my waist towards my throbbing clit. The only sound you could hear was our heavy breathing, into the darkness surrounding us. I felt the tight knot in my lower belly ready to burst. "Chan, please."

"Fuck, yes!" He grunts, now slamming into me. "You're close, aren't you? You gonna cum? You gonna cum for me?"

I nod my head. "Yes!"

His fingers rubs my clit and I see stars in front of my eyes as my climax hits me the hardest, my legs shaking but he doesn't stop. "Oh, fuck. Fuck, you're gonna make me cum. I'm gonna cum." His hips ram into me a few more times before he stills, spilling his seed into the rubber.

We stay like that for a few minutes, catching our breaths. He finally pulls out and I groan at the odd feeling. I try to move but my legs refused to budge. "Uhm."

I hear him zipping up his jeans. "You okay?"

"I can't move."

"What?"

"My legs."

He softly chuckles as he walks over and grabs both my arms, lifting me up. I shriek. "Put me down!"

"Hold still!"

He turns me around and puts me on the bike with my legs hanging over. Placing his hands on the lower part of my legs, he gently starts massging them. "Good?"

"Hmm," I savour the feeling coming back to my legs. "You should've started with this first."

"Oh, really?"

The nerve of this guy, showing me his dimples. "I'm a sucker for massages."

"Noted," he says as he comes up, face to face. "Say, what are you doing next weekend?"

"Why, you wanna take me a on a date?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"Well, considering how this date went, I might agree to it."

"Brat," he pecks my lips before he picks up the helmets and hands me mine. "You're more than welcome to feel me up again once we're on the road."

My cheeks heat, my blush making its permanent stay on my entire face. "Wha....I wasn't feeling you up!"

"Uh huh," he says wearing his helmet and grins turning his head towards me. "And I didn't give you the best sex of your life just now."

I narrow my eyes at him as I hop off to let him sit first. As he turns on the ignition, I climb on behind him. He grabs my hands and places them around his waist. And the we were off, into the same darkness that surrounded us mere minutes ago.

Who knew I would be startstruck by the guy I watched on my laptop and phone was interested in me? And the biker dude? Oh man. If only the world knew what we just did.....

A/N: wtf did I just write 💀

#bang chan #christopher bang #stray kids bang chan #chris bang #stray kids #bang chan fanfic #fanfic #skz #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #bang chan x reader

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Tim Drake Fics On A03

These are my list of Tim Drake fics on A03. It has everything. Angst, fluff, funny sibling relationship, family fluff, The core four etc... There are few TimKon fics thrown here and there too. Have fun.

Tim Drake (Doesn't) Drink Coffee by BabblingBookends

Every year, Tim goes on a caffeine detox for a month and has to deal with the resulting withdrawal symptoms. He doesn't tell the rest of the Bats about this, because, uh, reasons!

Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once

‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’

Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-

‘Don’t tell Bruce.’

Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Play it Again by Jazz020

The manor feels too quiet without music. Tim and Damian bond over music.

Send to All by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

-

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

This is on of the most funniest batfam fic I have ever read.

four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found by Ms_Trickster

Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart 

Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that. 

Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you. 

Dick: I-

Dick: Try again

-

Tim is having boy troubles.

Tim goes to his brothers for help.

Tim...did not think that plan of action through.

(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)

Their sibiling relationship is too damn funny.

Home by sElkieNight60 

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?”

The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because:

“Who is Tim?”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake

If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?

Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.

“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.

“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date.”

Bloodlines by chibi_nightowl for exiled-one (mistralle)

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.” 

Tim blinked. “My what?” 

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.” 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

No words. This fic is just mind blowing.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos 

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Only A03 users can read this fic

Liberal Usage of the Bro-Code by heartslogos for protagonistically (the_protagonist)

“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

i totally don't have amnesia by impravidus for odd_izzy

Based on this john mulaney bit: “I also think it's weird in movies when someone has amnesia and they wake up in the hospital. A lot of times they'll be surrounded by friends and family, but when they open their eyes they go "Who are you?" Because that's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody. That's very rude. It would be chaos out there if every time you saw someone you didn't recognize, you went, "Who are you?" I always try to be really polite in life, so like if I had amnesia, you'd never know it. I'd wake up and they'd be like "Hi John, we're so happy you're awake." And I'd just be like, "Oh, hey, man, how's it going?", "Oh, hey, dude, nice to see you again." because that's how you act when you can tell that someone recognizes you and you have no fucking clue who they are.”

Detective Timothy Drake and the Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Dildo by JpegDotJpeg

Tim had a lot of experience with problem solving. Every goddamn day he was solving problems. There was no shortage of problems in Tim’s life. He’d learned how to deal with overbearing parents, underbearing parents, malfunctioning equipment, in-team conflict, lawsuits, emotional breakdowns, financial difficulty, broken ribs, ill-timed boners, and a whole host of other bizarre, anxiety-inducing, or life-threatening issues that plagued his existence.

None of them had prepared him for finding a dildo in the dishwasher.

I had so much fun reading this.

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 for Marzue

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too.

He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting.

“Who is this?”

Family Photos by KelpieCodyne 

“I thought you quit your photo stalking?”

“In my defence, I never said I was quitting, and you never asked if I would,” Tim immediately counters. “So really, this is kind of on you.”

Just because Tim became a bat, doesn’t mean he stopped taking photos of bats. Several times Tim took photos of the batfamily, and one time they took photos of him.

One of my all time favorite fic. And only A03 users can read this fic too.

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224 

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Have You Seen My Kids!? by Cute_Bear

Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

This is not Tim - centric, but it has really nice batfam fluff.

ten cents richer by Ms_Trickster

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

That’s how the saying goes. Take enough punches from the universe and eventually it becomes harder and harder to pop back up, to see the worth in fighting back, to stop yourself from turning around and delivering some punches of your own.

Tim never wanted to become the villain—

“Appendicitis,” Tim breathed in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to burn the world to ashes when shit like this kept happening to him.

A Saturday Evening by malcyon

Jonathan shrugs, catches the expression still on Tim’s face. “We did throw out the cyanide.”

“Only because it expired.”

“Marty.”

“Well, it did.”

*****

Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

unfurl by shipyrds

"Hey, Dick," Tim says. He's in costume, and fiddling with his gloves, but he doesn't remove his mask: nervous, and trying to hide it. "You've had sex with aliens, right?"

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Dick says, resigned.

"How did you deal with the whole. Junk situation," Tim says, in his best professional Mission Report voice. Its success is kind of undermined with how red his face is below the domino. — Tim asks some questions. Bruce and Clark come to some realizations.

The Conner Kent Conspiracy Board by Hayleythewriter

Tim figures out Kon’s feelings before Kon does.

His Baby by Musafir

Bruce once made Tim a promise that he would never break, just have to reaffirm later in life.

“Hi Tim. I’m Bruce and I am always going to be here for you.”

Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.

When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.

But most of all, Tim is alone.

(If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks 

What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time.

Only a03 users can read this fic.

charity by Valkirin for Ms_Trickster

The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met.

Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

city of stars by lovelyre

College friends-to-lovers AU with Tim Drake.

This is Tim drake x Reader fic. Trust me its really good.

Tricks of the Trade by Jazz020

Jason and Damian learn about Tim's fool proof method of getting what he wants from Superman

Security Updates by Jazz020

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

A continuation of Security Updates

It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers.

“Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Birthdays by Jazz020

Bruce was always aware that Jack and Janet Drake were bad parents, but every once in a while they give him an unfortunate reminder.

Loss by Jazz020

Out of all of Tim’s self-destructive tendencies, it was his willingness to die for his loved ones that frightened Alfred most.

Sick by Jazz020

Tim’s never quite figured out the proper behavior for someone who’s sick. Instead of resting, he often makes his way to the Watchtower.

We Can Work It Out by blackash26, Tigrislupa

Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.

In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.

Don’t tell Dick.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

you'll never find a thing like today by remrose

"I'm just saying, I don't think I've ever been to one of these things that hasn't ended in explosions," Bart tells them, eyes on the crowds as he tugs at the ends of his cuffs.

To the Boy Who Called Yesterday by Shirokokuro

Bruce wonders when six-year-old Tim changed, when he shed that sad look he’s wearing now.

Or, perhaps, when he got so good at hiding it.

Cough syrup by Stardustwrites17

It’s the coldest night in the year. So of course Tim falls into the Gotham-fucking-harbor.

Featuring a worried dad, Tim's missing spleen, and of course, Tim battling with himself between being independent and letting himself be loved.

Chili dogs seasoned with tears by Robin_The_Robiner

Ever so slowly, Tim looked down at his plate. On it was a steaming chili dog, topped with fried onions and fresh parsley.

“Oh.” he whispered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taking the place of a beloved dead boy was difficult, but Tim managed to do a decent job. He's smart, confident, and put together, so he wasn't effected by their devastating grief at all.

Tim is also a dirty little liar when it comes to his mental health.

A Pile Of Pillows By The Couch by reinersbigtits

Tim has always hated getting sick. He hates the haze and the pain. But, when he finds out his family is sick he jumps in to help without a second thought. However, without a spleen, he's incredibly susceptible to the illness and quickly realizes just how much he's missed out on.

Or: Tim Drakes repressed trauma followed by worried family feels and lots of comfort.

stepping on landmines by Ms_Trickster

There is a scar curved around Drake's neck that Damian does not understand.

So he asks Todd.

the butler's neighbor by deargalileo

It starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne's property. it's alfred's job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more.

after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds?

Stranger than Fiction by foxy_mulder

"There are details in this document that absolutely no one should know unless they have inside information on us. There’s hints that they know our patrol schedules and regularly keep tabs on us. I don't know who's behind this, or what they want with Batman, but tracking the writer needs to be a priority."

"And this document is… a fanfiction?"

_________

(Tim Drake writes Batman fanfiction. He doesn't expect Batman to actually find it.)

There are many many more fics which i will post later. Have fun reading

#tim drake #batfam #red robin #dc robin #jason todd #good parent bruce wayne #dick grayson is nightwing #damian wayne is a little shit #tim drake is a menace #jason todd is red hood #jason todd is a little shit #fluff #light angst #bart allen #young justice #conner kent #tim drake loves coffee #tim drake centric fic #timkon

[foreingersgod]

If you can could you do a Caitlin Clark x reader with angst? Thank youuu

votes are in! we’re going with angst to fluff for this one!

Regrets . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin says something to you during an argument that she immediately regrets

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

caitlin was a phenomenal athlete. she was good at what she did, blowing everyone away and breaking records, all while doing well in school and balancing the other parts of her life. you absolutely admired her for it, amazed by how perfect a person could be. she was so good to you, as her girlfriend, giving you equal support and love.

you on the other hand, were never an athlete, your dream was to pursue writing or journalism. you loved to write more than anything in the world and you knew from a very young age that that was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. you often wrote small stories in your free time or touched up on trending articles, trying to write as much as you could. throughout your college years, you’ve been interning and taking classes to get you into a good position for your career.

you’ll admit, it was a very competitive career to go into, but you were determined to succeed. caitlin was always at your side, too, rooting for you every step of the way.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

it was a tuesday night, you were at home cleaning and fixing up dinner. caitlin was still out, something about a meeting with a few scouts. she didn’t say much about and said that she’d tell you all about it when she got home.

so you waited patiently, finishing up dinner and waiting for cait to get home. you pulled out your laptop while you awaited her arrival, beginning to work on an important paper you were writing for your journalism course. as you typed away at the keyboard, you felt your phone vibrate. you pulled out your phone, curious to see who was texting you.

cait <3: really big news when i get home, can’t wait to tell you

your heart started to beat a little faster, eager to hear what it was. you knew how hard she had been working to get the attention of some of these scouts so you hoped it was finally paying off for her.

as you were finishing up a paragraph for your article, you heard the lock of the front door jostling, hinges creaking as it opened. your eyes darted to the door right away, watching as caitlin walked in, positively glowing. she hung up her jacket and took off her shoes all with a huge smile on her face. you found yourself smiling too, her happiness contagious.

“hey, babe” you swooned “how was the meeting? big news?”

she came over to you, standing behind the counter opposite of you chair. “YN, it was life changing! you’re never gonna believe it, it’s like a dream come true”

her eyes were wide with excitement, still shaking from receiving the news. she had you anxious as you waited for her to spill. you closed your laptop half way to give her full attention, pushing it aside.

“what?” you questioned “the anticipation is killing me!”

“well,” she took a breathy pause for dramatic effect “a few of the scouts that i was talking to approached me after the meeting. they were telling me about how they’re recruiting for the women’s olympic basketball team…and long story short, they want me on the team! baby im playing in the olympics!”

“holy shit, you’re kidding!” you leaped out of your seat, rushing around the counter to congratulate her “that’s amazing, oh my god, i’m so proud of you!”

you hugged her tightly, smoothing your hands across her back.

“thank you, i’m freaking out still, it’s so surreal” she felt like crying “we’re going paris, YN!”

she was still on cloud nine, starting to text friends and family to share the good news, but you had stepped back thinking you heard her wrong. you? the both of you? paris? while you were aware that the events would be an international occasion, you hadn’t realized it would be that far away. you had just assumed you would do a bit of long distance for the time being, caitlin going to play and you staying here to take care of things and focus on journalism. noticing you had pulled away, caitlin sent her last text and turned back to you.

“hey are you ok?” she asked “went all quiet on me”

“hm? oh yea i just,” you started picking at your nails, nervous to bring up the conversation “it’s just that you said ‘we’?”

her infectious laugh rang through your living room “of course, you’re my girl, i want you there with me”

“cait, you know i’d love to be there for you in person and come with but…but i can’t just go babe” you said, apologetically.

your entire soul shattered seeing the look on her face as you broke the news. she looked defeated, trying to laugh it off as a weird joke “what do you mean you can’t go?”

“don’t get upset” you said, sensing the tension growing “but a trip like that is expensive, and there’s things that i need to take care of, especially if you’re going to be gone…and i’m just in the middle of a really important part of my path in writing…i need to be able to focus on that right now. but we can do it, you know? we’d only be doing the long distance thing for a little bit!”

“are you serious?” she tried to keep her voice calm, instead raising it slightly “this is a huge deal for me and you don’t even want to be there with me?”

“that’s not true! i would do anything to go, but like i said, that’s an insanely expensive trip and i’m in the middle of trying to pursue this journalism thing so i-”

“you’re not going so you can write your silly papers?” she ridiculed “fine, it’s expensive, we can work around that, but you’re seriously telling me you’re not doing this so you can write?”

you were dumbfounded, her calling your passion just some ‘silly papers’ made you sick. you’ve been pushing yourself to every possible limit to work towards this, and you thought she was supportive of that, i guess this was bringing out her true colors.

“silly papers? caitlin, pursuing journalism is my dream, you know that” your nose scrunching in frustration “i’ve always been supportive of your dream, i’m constantly putting my own things aside so you can continue to do this”

“yea well that’s because i’m actually good at what i do” she snapped. her voice was laced with spite, gaze shooting daggers into yours. “i’ve got a real job, with real responsibilities, YN”

your body was frozen, feet glued to the ground, limbs unable to move. the way she was talking to you hurt, any support that you thought she had for you was gone out the window. you wanted to scream, storm out of the house and slam the door.

“that’s really what you think, hm?” you sneered “that i don’t have a real job? that i’m not good at the one thing i’m passionate about? jesus fucking christ caitlin.”

somewhere in your body, you found the courage to move. without letting her get another word in, you grabbed your laptop and stormed up the stairs into your shared bedroom. she could sleep on the couch tonight.

the second you made it up the stairs, you slammed the door and collapsed onto your bed. you were seething with rage. for her to stand in front of you, after you’ve put your heart and soul into helping caitlin succeed, was like a punch to the gut. she knew how hard you had been working to make this happen, how many classes and workshops, how many late nights and meetings with publishers. she knew about it all and she still had the audacity to say such a nasty thing.

you pulled the comforter up over your shoulders, hiding below it, and sobbed in your pillow. you didn’t even bother trying to finish your article tonight, your headache too painful from the tears. about an hour went by, you had assumed, the sun going down outside your bedroom window. not once did you hear anything from caitlin so you thought she had left to blow off steam or made herself comfortable on the couch.

then there was a knock at your bedroom door. she didn’t have to knock, in reality, it was her room too. you didn’t answer at the raps at the door, nor when she called out your name. you didn’t have anything to say.

“YN, can we talk?” her voice muffled from behind the wooden barrier “i shouldn’t have said those things, i didn’t mean it”

you stood up, opening the door for her and resuming your position on the bed, pulling up the covers once more. she followed suit and sat down at the foot of the bed next to you. still silent, you waited for her to continue.

“what i said was uncalled for” her voice cutting through deafening silence “none of it was true”

“so why’d you say it?” she could tell you had been crying right away, hearing the stuffiness in your nose. it made her stomach turn knowing she was the reason why.

“i was mad. the second i got the news, all i could think about was taking you with me. i had the whole thing planned out. but i didn’t even consider what it would mean for you, to drop everything and go to paris with me. and that was incredibly unfair of me to assume.”

you remained silent, listening to her confession.

“baby, i don’t think your papers are silly and i don’t think it’s not a real job” her hands found the way to your legs under the blanket, rubbing at them tenderly to try and comfort you “i’m so amazed by how talented you are. you’ve put in so much effort into making a name for yourself and i admire you for that, i know you’re going to do amazing things. what i said was cruel and purely out of spite and it won’t ever happen again, i’m so sorry”

you sniffled, wiping the rest of your tears as you sat up against the headboard. she had looked horrible when you looked at her. hair messy from running her hands through it, face pale and flushed, it didn’t take much to realize how bad she felt for lashing out at you.

“i know you’re mad, and i’m upset that i can’t go either,” you spoke up “but if you’re going to make a habit out of saying things like that to me, i don’t know if-”

“i swear to god i’m not! that was a shitty slip up, but please, i’m being honest when i say that i’ll never do that again. i have never once believed that what i said was true, im so so sorry” she pleaded, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of your palm.

“i forgive you, but it’s going to take a lot for you to make it up to me”

“anything, i’ll do anything” she said “i can’t live with myself knowing that i made you upset. whatever it takes to gain your trust back, i’ll fucking do it”

you let out a small chuckle, knowing the real cait was already shining through. the caitlin that would go to the ends of the earth for you. her hand was still gripping yours, drawing small shapes around your knuckles and kissing them reassuringly. you tugged her towards you making her fall into the sheets beside you. you reached out, caressing her long strands of hair, silently admiring her.

the two of you remained there in bed without saying anything. the sun lingered in its final hour in the sky as you both soaked in each other’s presence.

you couldn’t stay mad at her for long.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb

[2-dsimp]

Zebad really making me feeling a type of way. Got me wanting to make a lot of jokes,. Lke Father Zebad? More like Daddy Zebad 😉🙏🍆.

Getting on my knees to pray more like getting on my knees to suc-

I'll show myself to the door now 👋🚪🚶‍♀️

“Sister Y/n, you seemed most energetic in your conversation with the other sisters mind if you let me in on it?”

The holy priest had you backed against the wall. Putting on an unassuming closed eyed smile from hearing your wayward comments amongst your fellow nun peers. You were a newcomer in the church and wanted to try and convert if only to save your hide from the dangers of being alone in the cruel world.

You desperately tried to convince yourself that you were still in the clear and tried to hastily brush off your earlier thirst comments about the 28 year old superior of yours.

“Oh! Uh yes I was! You see, Father Zebad, I was just retelling a funny story of how I almost got tripped over by a lone chicken—“

You gulped in between your stuttering. With his all imposing form looming over you. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, especially from the way his golden eyes squinted down at you in contemplation.

“Now, now don’t be so deceitful, it is unbecoming of a precious servant of god don’t you agree?”

Zebad’s dimpled smile, slowly turned into a disappointed frown. As he then placed a glove finger against your lips while he whispered lowly in a scolding tone. Against the shell of your ear.

“Did You really think that I Didn’t hear you confess that you’d get on your knees and suck my cock?”

“W-what? I don’t— no, you’ve must’ve misheard me!”

“ It’s no good to not follow through on your promises~ perhaps we should correct that.”

You blinked as you soon found yourself being herded by Zebad into his chambers. As he waved his hand off to his fellow churchgoers with the claim of teaching you. How to devote yourself to the holy scriptures with your entire being literally and figuratively. In hindsight the priest had you worshipping the very thing you craved his dick from day and night. Correcting you on how to always be honest and to never again lie to his face.

#Zebad the Priest #yandere priest #yandere smut #smut imagine #smut headcanons #smut scenarios #smut drabble #yandere male x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere concept #yandere cw #yandere content #yandere blurb #yandere blog

[junpei-iori-ace-defective]

Thoughts about Hades 2 as a tech test player

Everything is under a read more bc. 1. Long post. 2. Spoilers for Hades 2.

1. The game is fucking s m o o t h. Loads quicker and everything feels more stream lined.

2. It’s somewhat harder than Hades 1. Idk if it’s bc of not having a super buffed character but I am definitely finding it a little more challenging. Not a bad thing though!

3. Melinoë plays a little different from Zag which is to be expected! We now have a sprint, spells, and new weapons. Already loving how regular casts and specials don’t have a cast limit. Also love the twin blades. Fast weapon go brrrrrrr.

4. I’m definitely interested in seeing what they do with gathering, farming, ect. Great way to add more stuff to do in and after runs.

5. This ties into 4 but, I love how there’s a bunch of stuff to do in Crossroads! In Hades 1, I never spent too much time in the house. I was always dashing through to do another run when not stopping to talk to people. The Crossroads is definitely a nice cool down area for after runs!

6. THE ART. Man everyone looks so good!!!! I can tell some of the sprites are still being worked on but everything still looks so damn clean. I love how everyone has backgrounds in their portraits!

7. APOLLO, HEPHAESTUS, HESTIA, SELENE. All of them look and sound so cool. Really looking forward to seeing their full boon lists and how they play with different weapons ect.

8. I’m really happy to see some of the OG gods returning. All of them look so sick and every time I see a boon from the first game I go “YOOOOOO”. Also Artemis physically appearing is sick as hell.

9. Really excited to get to know the new crew better! They’re all really compelling already!

10. The areas seem to be shorter. Like, I’m going through less rooms to hit the boss room. Idk if it’s bc it’s a tech test or if it’s intentional.

Speculation and questions

1. WHAT DID CHRONOS DO. ARE THEY DEAD? WHERE ARE THEY? Istg if Zag is dead I am going to c r y.

2. WHERE IS THAN, MEG, ACHILLES, NYX, EVERYONE FROM THE FIRST GAME? WHERE ARE THEY?

3. Hecate said something about Hermes trying to find a way to get from the underworld to Olympus. There was also some stairs going blocked by a ward in the weapon/training room. I wonder if there’s gonna be more areas to go through. Like. Erebus, Elysium, Asphodel, Tartarus, House, then Olympus? Maybe Olympus is gonna have its own areas completely. This would make sense for why the areas are shorter. Really interested to see what they do.

4. If the game looks like this already in its tech test stage….. this might be my game of the year if it gets a full release this year. (I love you P3RE but holy shit Hades 2).

There’s a lot more I could talk about, but I am tired and this is a long post lmao.

#l.txt #hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers #hades #hades 2 technical test #idk how I even managed to get accepted into the tech test but I’m really glad I did! #its super fun! #long post

[blueballsracing]

Can u help me understand Lestappen please? I’m trying to get into it because it’s a popular ship and I don’t want to miss out on great fics and stuff.

But I see Tumblr posts of MV and CL that scream “HEART EYES” or “HUSBANDS” and…I don’t see it. I can’t suspend my disbelief. Like I get they’ve been competing for 20 years or whatever but I don’t get anything other than profesh respect. And when we regularly see how they are with other people, like MV with Daniel or Lando, or CL with Carlos, Lestappen looks even worse.

Can you please help me see the Lestappen light?

hi anon! lemme break it down for ya. the reason why lestappen is such a popular ship is bc not only of the mutual respect that they have for each other, but the history they have, and their interactions have been pretty cute and all.

even max and lando don't really interact that much, and lando goes as far as to say that "he's not my bff, don't ever say that again" when asked about him and max's relationship. and max with daniel–well, max has always loved daniel and had a crush on that man since his first days in f1 so... different dynamic for sure. charles with carlos interactions... they are cute and all but i think their racing dynamics are just so awkward? esp i think that the ferrari politics deffo affected their relationship and all. cross-team dynamics between charles and max have a nice dynamic, but i'll break down some of the key events

lestappen lore timeline!

2012 - when the inchident occurs - you just need to watch this video. it's just so funny. no words can explain this 😭

2014 - when max essentially recommends charles to race for his old f3 team, van amersfoort racing, a dutch team. and the team boss had a lot of positive things to say about the two <3

2019 - the singapore flag incident... mr. i know geography and i love flags SOMEHOW doesn't know the difference between the singapore flag and the monaco flag

2019 - when we get to austria 2019. essentially, charles is about to win his FIRST ever f1 gp with 3 laps to go, and max pushes charles off track, overtaking him and eventually winning. charles is FURIOUS on the podium. and then they have to share a plane back home but max is all like "oh yeah we're good! 😊 he's talented and he will have his first win this year for sure! we have at least 15-20 years of racing together still! 😊" and then on the plane charles unfollows max. max does the same 😭

2022 - jumping forward to austria 2022, when charles wins the race! and they have this GAY ASS PODIUM

austria is lestappen holy ground.

2020 - when we get this wonderful clip of sebastian asking whether or not charles thinks max is pretty.

seb: is he pretty? charles: *giggles and then silence* OH WAIT. i thought you said 'is he british?' i was like, that's not physical... *panicked leg shake* i don't know!!! *laughs again*

charles not wanting to answer if max is pretty... we should take that as a yes <3

2021 - the year of their baku love tree <3 according to an old turkish custom, when a couple get married, they plant a tree together, and they water it to symbolize their marriage and their hope for leading a happy and beautiful life!

and then jumping forward to 2023 in baku, they have the SAME IDENTICAL TIME during first runs in q3. only max is first bc he did his lap first.

2022 - cota! before the press conference they talk and max goes "fresh again?" and charles starts GIGGLING. like yeah we know u were drunk celebrating 🙄

2022 - secret santa! when charles has max for secret santa and this guy just. gives him f1 2022. with THREE OF HIS FACES. and has a card and writes "one edition for my BIGGEST FAN." not normal about this at ALL.

2023 - charles admits to drinking red bull after he couldn't say in an interview but then likes a tweet later 😭

2023 - paddelgate. max loses to charles in october

and then they're supposed to play together in december!

but then... Max stays up until 4 am the night before the match (doing a 24 hour charity stream) and sleeps in and misses the entire event. 🙁

ok i could literally go on and on about them but i'm going to end it here with a couple quotes:

"Of course I have a lot of respect for Max. He has done very well and I have a lot of respect for what he has achieved. When we drove in karts, we dreamed of Formula 1 together and here we are now! He has the title I won and I have a lot of respect for that."

"I always thought that, if I'd make it to F1, Charles would also make it."

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #my posts #f1 fandom #f1blr #asks #lestappen lore

[murdockparker]

Promises, Promises

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Five years is a long time to be together, Peter knew that. Peter also knew that everything was expensive—but he had an idea. A little juvenile, sure, but it was an idea regardless.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), reader is a nerd, Star Wars hot take?

A/N: I haven't written for Peter in a hot second, but I'm glad to get back into the swing of things ;) i'll see myself out now

An old pop song blasted through the small shop, possibly from the eighties or nineties, it was hard to decipher, given that the boombox playing the song was probably older than she was.

“Do you need more toilet paper?” She asked across the aisle, hoping someone would answer back—a certain someone in particular. 

“Nah,” she could see a mop of brown shake from over the packages, “I just bought some last week.”

“Peter, if you’re lying to me and you’re out of toilet paper again I swear on all that is holy—”

“Babe,” Peter said softly, peaking around the corner, “trust me. It’s not gonna be like last time.”

“Oh? You mean the time I was stranded on your toilet while you ran out to buy some more?” She nearly had laughed at the memory, but decided against it, having far more fun antagonizing her boyfriend. “That last time?”

He went positively crimson, from his neck to his ears. He always looked good in red, she thought, but she liked this red the best. “I am one thousand percent positive—I think I still have the receipt in my back pocket.”

“You said you bought some last week though? You haven’t washed those jeans yet?”

Peter shrugged. “I haven’t worn these that many times since last week…”

She laughed at that, pulling a bag of chips off of the shelf. Changing her mind, she pulled another as well—her favorite and his favorite. “Okay pretty boy, I believe you. I also believe we’ll be making a stop to the laundromat tonight, too.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Peter groaned, grabbing the snacks from her and holding them close. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Obviously you haven’t been in the mood for a week,” she rolled her eyes. “But sure, we can go tomorrow. Tonight, we feast like twelve year olds and binge our favorite movies.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Peter sighed, leaning up against the shelf, eyes locked on her. “A pretty girl willing to watch Star Wars, eat cheese puffs and date me?”

“Don’t forget the hot, hot sex you’ll have with the pretty girl after,” she winked, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Speaking of—”

“Restocked those too,” Peter said proudly. “Bought them with the toilet paper—could show you the receipt if you want. Bet you’re glad I held onto it, right?”

She pushed him away, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I take the offer of sex back, I’m still not over those dirty jeans.”

“I’ll shower!”

“Just buy the snacks,” she laughed, shoving him towards the cashier. “I’ll rethink my offer in the meantime.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Peter saluted, turning hot on his heels to the front. She couldn’t help but smile, watching him laugh with the bodega owner, pulling crumpled bills out of his pockets and pressing them against the counter. There was hardly anything that Peter Parker could do that she didn’t find endearing—find something to smile about. 

“Local news tonight, late last night in Manhattan, our favorite web slinger was seen assisting with directing traffic during the power surge,” a reporter on the T.V. in the corner of the store announced, the screen showed Spider-Man waving traffic along, webbing a car to stop before it crashed into another oncoming vehicle. “Local authorities showed up minutes later to take over, sans-webs.”

“Huh,” she clicked, feeling her smile grow wider. “He's been spending time in Manhattan?”

“Spider-Man gets around town,” Peter shrugged, finally returning beside his girlfriend, their purchases in white plastic bags. “Can’t always stay in Queens, can he?”

“Helps if Spider-Man goes to school in Manhattan, no?” She teased quietly, elbowing Peter lovingly.

“He had time after class,” his voice matched her own, low and slow, opening the door and finally walking out onto the street. “What? Was he expected to let everyone crash their cars while the stoplights went out?”

“No,” she hummed, noticing quickly how Peter took the outside of their strides, closest to the street. He always did that. The notion warmed her heart, the feeling flooding to her toes. “Good thing he was there to help out. I’m sure the police were thankful.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay,” she conceded, head falling onto his shoulder. “Yeah, that was dumb to say.”

The rest of the walk was silent, as silent as it could get in New York City, anyhow. Comfortable, the beats of the city passing by with every step towards Peter’s apartment, hands intertwined with the other. Occasionally, he’d tug her back and stop her from stepping into the street, clearly knowing she’s not paying attention to the changing pedestrian signs. She’d squeeze his hand back in thanks. 

“Have you thought more about moving in?” Peter asked, trying his best to unlock the door to his apartment, wrists heavy from the bags. “Y’know, I’m sure I can get you added to the lease if I asked.”

“Thought about it,” she hummed, gently taking the bags from him. “I just… your place is a bit small.”

“What?” He scoffed, finally pushing the door open and allowing her to enter. “You’re saying this luxurious suite is too small?”

It was comical, the timing of his statement. She could hardly turn her neck and she’d get a full view of Peter’s apartment—minus the bathroom. He could only afford a studio, and even then it was bursting at the seams, with all of his school work, his work work and his ‘unofficial’ work work, the place was a mess. He tried his best to keep it tidy, he really did. It was never filthy, just overrun by stuff. 

“Babe, you’re growing out of your own space,” she laughed, double checking she locked the door behind them—it had a habit of sticking. “How’d you think I’d fit in here?”

“Preferably on my lap, or in my bed,” he smirked. “But… yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a little cramped.”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, or love spending time here,” (Y/N) clarified. “Hell, you’d think after all these years I’d have moved on if that was the case.”

“Has it been that long?” He asked rhetorically, opening the bags in the kitchen—if you could call it that. 

“I won’t even pretend to act insulted you’ve forgotten how long we’ve been together, Parker.”

“Time flies when you’re in love,” Peter nearly sings. “Five years is a long time, feels like just yesterday I was nervously asking you out.”

“I asked you out,” she corrected. “I know, I know, five years and a hell of a lot of brain damage from crime fighting can make you misremember—”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I distinctly remember sliding a note in your locker between classes. Super cute, very sappy, I might add.”

She hopped up on his counter, with what little space he had free, anyway. “Did you? You seem to be forgetting how I pulled you aside after science class and, very confidently, I might add, asked you out for milkshakes after school.”

“That was the day I left you the note,” Peter blinked. “I just assumed you read it and were moving the process along.”

“Wait,” she barked a laugh. “I thought you left the note after I asked you out?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “Left it for you that morning, chemistry wasn’t until after lunch.”

“Huh,” she breathed, shoulders deflating. “I guess we both asked each other out on the same day.”

“Can’t believe it took us five years to figure that out,” Peter laughed, patting her thigh. 

“Knowing us? I’m surprised it didn’t take us ten.”

Ten years.

Ten years with her. 

The thought alone made Peter buzz with happiness. 

“We’re both pretty smart people,” Peter squeaked out, fighting his own body, hoping and praying a childish blush won’t give him away. “We would’ve figured it out before then.”

“I dunno, seems unlikely,” she opened a bag of chips, impatient to start their evening. “What are we starting with tonight? Phantom Menace?”

“We started with Phantom Menace last time, chronological order,” he scrunched his nose. “I think we should go by release order this weekend, just to shake things up.”

“Okay, nerd,” she said, her voice filled with affection. Hopping off the counter, she walked towards his couch. “I’ll go get A New Hope set up, then. You plate the snacks.”

“I’ll pull out my finest china,” Peter said. He opened the cabinets to find two bowls, one for each of the bags of chips. They were mismatched and two totally different sizes, but they were free from the old neighbors, so he made do.

“Y’know, I don’t think the debate between release order versus chronological order is all that great,” (Y/N) said, mostly to herself. “I mean, there’s a thousand other things Star Wars fans can get caught up in arms in, but the order in which to watch the movies? Oh no, someone man the Reddit boards! What a crock of shit. It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re all good movies.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by his girlfriend’s rant. “All of them? That’s a controversial opinion.”

“If I had a good time watching it, it was a good movie,” (Y/N) said simply. “Not everyone’s a critic.”

“Clearly.”

“Do you not agree?”

“I agreed the last time we had this conversation,” Peter droned, though not bored in the slightest. “Though, I will admit, I was perhaps a bit distracted, on account of your nakedness.”

“Our pillow talk gets heated,” she said, no hint of shame in her voice. “Only intellectual conversations afterwards, to ground us and all after… everything.”

“Because the sex is that good?”

“Because the sex is that good,” she agreed.

“Maybe I should plan that shower soon,” he grinned, walking over to his loving girlfriend. “Delay our marathon…”

“I didn’t walk all the way here just for sex, you know,” (Y/N) hummed, the couch shifting at Peter’s added weight. “An added bonus, for sure, but I came here to pig out and watch silly little movies set in space with my pretty boyfriend.”

“Pretty boyfriend?” 

“The prettiest,” she giggled, slipping a kiss to the tip of his nose. It’s not her fault he has such a kissable face—lips, cheeks, nose, wherever. “Big doe eyes, loads of freckles, smoochy cheeks—”

“Which ones?”

A pillow—one she had bought him months ago—met his face with a quick thump. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly smoochable,” Peter giggled, feeling lighter than air. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice all thick and lovey, “I know.”

Peter looked at her like she held the world in her hands, sitting beside him on his old couch—one that they had both moved up the stairs together two years ago—he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Everything was right in the world, everything was right in his heart. 

“Are you gonna press play?”

He shook his head a bit, dumping his lovesick thoughts out of his ears. “Oh! Yeah, right. The movie.”

She pulled a blanket up on them, snuggling closer to Peter as the opening fanfare begun to play. With the text scrolling on the screen, one he hardly needed to read to know what it said given his near-memorization of the film, he felt at peace.

—

Mindlessly scrolling on his phone, it was usually how he spent his mornings, to wake himself up. He knew about the studies with blue light and stimulation of that sort of activity and wakefulness—having heard it enough from the party beside him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Apartment listings. 

She was right, his studio was too small for the both of them, and it was only fitting if they were going to start a life together—living with one another—that they had ample space. Besides, they were graduating within the year anyhow, so location wasn’t terribly important. In the city would be nice, given his… other occupation, but he could get used to living outside of Manhattan again. It was quieter, usually, and only by a small percent. Cheaper, too. Thank God for his scholarships, he wouldn’t have made it very far without them. 

She stirred next to him, pulling his comforter mostly off of him. He didn’t need it right now, anyway. Not when she was sleeping so soundly. He craved these weekends, when they both had a break from school and work—most of the time anyway. Peter Parker knew in his heart of hearts that he needed this every day. Perhaps forever. 

Forever.

That seemed so out of reach five years ago, but now? Peter simply couldn’t see a life without her in it. With their hectic schedules, his being all-encompassing, marriage was out of the question, at least for a few years. That’s why the apartment was so important to him, a piece of forever within their grasp. 

“Maybe…” Peter sighed, clicking his phone off, afraid to breathe louder than necessary. 

She didn’t seem to wake, anyhow. 

—

“Why do weekends here go by so fast?”

“At the laundromat?”

(Y/N) gave him a knowing glance. “Yes, Pete, weekends fly by here at the laundromat.”

“Come on,” Peter laughed, stacking his jeans—fresh out of the dryer. “It’s not so bad. They have those magazines you like.”

“Magazines from years ago—”

“There was that one from the eighties you found two months ago,” Peter pointed. “Stuck under one of the dryers?”

She smiled at the memory. “True. That was kinda fun. Seeing all the dated hairstyles and outfits was a treat. But you knew what I meant, use that big brain of yours.”

“It probably has something to do with the fact we like spending time with one another,” Peter began, patting the top of his laundry pile. “Y’know, makes the time go by faster.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I mean, logically, that’s probably the answer.”

“Logically? As opposed to illogically?”

“I could shove a sock down your throat right now, Parker,” she said seriously, holding up a balled up blue sock of his. “No one here would stop me. So cut it out with the smart ass-ness.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Such a scary girlfriend I have, threatening me with socks.”

“Maybe instead of kryptonite like Superman, your weakness is socks? I need to capitalize on that venture before anyone else does,” she said, throwing the sock into the laundry basket. “Once I crack that code, I can sell it to all the big baddies of New York.”

“And maybe with all of the money you make, we could invest in a place for us,” Peter said.

“A house on the water,” she said dreamily. “Four bedrooms, an office—maybe one for both of us? Oh! An open kitchen sounds nice too, one with stone counters and fancy wood cabinets—real wood, not particle board. One of those farmhouse sinks?”

“If you share Spider-Man’s one weakness to all the big baddies of New York, don’t you think you’d have a hard time sharing a life with him after?” Peter asked, the sounds of the machines drowning out their conversation well enough. They practically had the whole place to themselves anyway, it seemed safe enough to talk about. “You know, considering that the spider is likely dead?”

“Hm…” she tapped her chin. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“We could start with an apartment, first,” Peter chuckled, throwing bits of his laundry basket into the washer. “I was looking at listings—”

“I thought you wanted me to move into your place?”

“We need a place of our own,” Peter said. “You were right, my studio isn’t going to cut it, and I want to spend more time together. Our weekends are the best time of the week, and any night I spend with you is a night where I actually get some semblance of sleep—for the most part, anyway.”

The entire laundromat lit up, Peter was certain her smile was the culprit. 

“You were looking at listings?” She asked shyly, digging through the basket to help Peter load the washer. 

“Most of it was out of our budget,” he admitted, “but it was a start.”

She hummed in agreement. “We’ll look together tonight, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” Peter grinned. “Oh! Could you double check my pockets? I keep forgetting change and stuff in them.”

“What about old receipts?” (Y/N) giggled, obliging to his request. She pulled a pair of khakis out of the basket, gingerly fishing her hand in the pockets. “I think I’m entitled to any change I find, Parker.”

“You can have whatever you find,” Peter agreed, his voice a little shaky. 

Turning the back pockets inside out, she found nothing in the first pair, throwing it unceremoniously into the washer. With a bit more haste, she rifled through the second pair—the pair she had bought him a while back. Her fingers came across something round and cool. Change, it had to be. 

“I think I just became twenty five cents richer,” she laughed, pulling the item out of the pocket, expecting a quarter. Instead, it was a smooth ring, delicate and without any stones, but still elegant. “What…?”

“It’s not a house on the water,” Peter started, looking down at the ring in her hands. “It’s also not a new apartment, but it’s a start, right?”

“Peter Parker, if you’re proposing to me in a laundromat—”

“It’s also not a proposal,” he corrected, “I’m gonna get you a better ring for that, I promise. Besides, it’s not very romantic here, is it?”

She looked up at him, his eyes staring into her own. Big and beautiful, that’s what she always thought of his eyes. Like they held the answer to every question in the universe, and in a way, they did. “It’s a promise ring?”

He shrugged, his ears growing a bit pink. “When you say it like that it sounds a little… middle school, but in a way, yeah, it is a promise ring.”

“Girls my age are expecting engagement rings,” she said, looking back down at the ring in her hand. It was her size, she didn’t even need to try it on to know it. How did he figure out her ring size? 

“I promise baby,” Peter stepped towards her, grabbing her hand, closing her fingers around the ring. “I’m gonna get you that ring. I just thought it’d be nice to have something to wear on your finger in the meantime—before we do real adult things like move in together. A-and this way, you can help me pick out your real engagement ring! I have a really good idea of what you like, but I don’t ever want you to look down at your hand and thing ‘man, I wish Peter chose this instead of this’, you know?”

“Honey,” (Y/N) said, looking back up at him. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m nervous.”

She chuckled. “How do you expect yourself to actually propose if you can hardly give me a promise ring?”

“Hadn’t thought that far,” Peter shook his head. “But it’s for you, I’m willing to do anything for you.”

He meant that. 

She knew he meant that.

“Am I supposed to put it on myself?”

Peter quickly scrambled to open her hand to grab the ring from her, nearly dropping the thing. “You want to wear it?”

“My boyfriend got me a pre-engagement ring,” she nearly rolled her eyes. “You expect me not to wear it?”

He pushed the ring onto her left hand, fourth finger. Peter gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lovingly. “I promise, you’ll get a better ring from me one day. S-soon! Like, as soon as I have the money, I swear to it, honestly.”

“Pete,” she placed her now-ring-clad hand on his face. 

“Right,” his shoulders deflated, “rambling. Sorry.”

She kissed his cheek. “It’s all very sweet and very you, Peter Parker. I love it.”

A dryer alarm buzzed, startling the both of them. “You do?”

“Well, I love you, and that’s enough,” (Y/N) smiled. “Besides, I like the idea of wearing a ring you got me—and the idea of helping you pick out the real thing? That basically sold the idea for me.”

“You’d say yes if I asked?”

“I agreed to your pre-engagement engagement ring, did I not? You’re not losing me that easily, Peter. I’m gonna hold out for the real thing.”

“We’ll go ring shopping as soon as we find a place,” Peter said seriously. “Move in, graduate, all that.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“A lot,” Peter agreed. “Sometimes it helps to fill the time when I’m swinging around town. I usually am thinking about you, anyway, anytime of day.”

“That’s so crazy,” she said, voice teetering on sarcastic. “Because I’m usually thinking about you, too.”

“Pretty crazy,” he smiled, pulling her into him. With careful hands, he lifted her face towards his, a silent invitation. One she was more than happy to respond to. 

Kissing Peter Parker was one of life’s greatest pleasures, she was sure of it. Granted, she had really never kissed anyone else, high school sweethearts and all of that, but she knew it really couldn’t get better than this. The slightly chapped kisses, the way he would lick his lips when they parted, how he would nip at her bottom lip in protest if she thought about stopping the kiss too soon—it was all perfect. Of course, kissing in a slightly shady laundromat was a bit of a turn off. 

“Pete,” she said, pulling back.

“Can I not kiss my girlfriend?” He nearly begged, holding her against him a bit tighter. 

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” she said seriously. “I mean, not with this flashy new ring and all—seems a bit juvenile with that title, no?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Partners,” she shrugged, feeling him pepper kisses against her cheek, her nose. “It seems more grown up, anyway. Now, when I go into class or work and they comment on my ring I can say, ‘oh, my partner got me that’.”

“Babe, I’m your partner in anything,” he laughed, pressing his forehead against her own. “If you’d like to change our terms of endearment—I’m all aboard.”

“It’d only be for a short while, anyway,” (Y/N) said, smirking against his lips, capturing them in another kiss. “Then I can call you my fiancé…”

“Romantic.”

“Then my husband,” she teased. 

“Oh I do like the sound of that,” Peter nodded. “(Y/N) Parker has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What about Peter (Y/L/N)?” (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow. “You could be progressive.”

“We could hyphenate?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Parker is a fine last name. A little basic, but perfectly suitable.”

“We’re kinda basic people, are we not?” Peter chuckled.

“Let me just go and ask your friend Spider-Man that,” she said seriously. “I’m sure he’d disagree?”

“Oh, speaking of!” Peter stepped away from her. “I need to wash… well, y’know—”

“It’s already soaking in the sink back at your place,” she said simply. “Trying to get all the dried blood off of it and all.”

Peter’s eyes nearly melted in affection. “What would I ever do without you?”

She smiled back in kind, a lovesick sort of way. “Not your laundry, that’s for sure. Come on, Parker, we’ve gotta finish this load. Sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go home.”

A rogue ray of sunlight hit her new ring just right, making the band shine brightly against her hand as she continued to throw his dirty clothing into the washing machine. “Yeah, let’s finish this up,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #spider-man #marvel x reader #spider-man imagines #it works for any peter I promise!! #mcu peter parker #tasm peter parker

[queerprayers]

hi ! i hope you're doing well, and i just wanna say first that i love your blog and it just radiates comforting vibes :)

i wanted to ask for some advice. i chose god over a year ago after having this push-pull thing with him for almost ten before that. most of my issues with actually accepting him came from ideas i had about him from his more conservative/evangelical followers, which i began to debunk for myself after figuring out that god, not them, was who i wanted.

so i've been sticking to the old testament, mostly. i found god in there, grew to love him because of it, and it's just a beautiful text, but also there are far fewer conservative dogwhistles in there than there are in the new testament. the new testament is hard for me to look at, and i feel guilty about it.

and its like- ive grown up with jesus my whole life. my parents are methodist, i was raised methodist. but i've never felt very close to him, thanks to those who twisted his verses about love and kindness into weapons against people like me. i read these verses that mean so much (john 3:16 and the like) and all i get out of it is a crawling sense of dread. like the associations are Bad, and it seeps through the whole new testament.

all this long-winded nonsense is basically to say that somebody got their hands all over the new testament and now i look at it and it is just barren. have you ever experienced something like this? any advice on how to,, reclaim the new testament or something? (thank you so much for reading this holy shit it's long. sorry about that)

Thank you beloved, I'm glad you're here! No such thing as too long here, I promise—well, there might be on my end. (You've been warned.) I'm overjoyed that you've chosen to pursue God—separating what you've been told from what you seek to believe in is such a hard thing to navigate.

I'm gonna be honest, this is such a refreshing question and I'm glad that you're asking it. I overwhelmingly hear the opposite from Christians—that the New Testament is easy and loving and comforting, and the Old Testament is scary and violent or whatever. I always want to ask first, what their opinions of Judaism are, because that's a red flag to me; and next, have they read the NT? It isn't easy and it isn't always comforting, and I think too many Christians only read the parts that they think are. The fact that you're recognizing those hard things and wanting to deal with them is a beautiful thing—we should take these texts seriously enough to criticize and struggle with them.

First of all: You have no need to feel guilty for what other people have done with holy things, or for your emotions. You have not done something wrong by carrying this hurt with you. What we feel is not in our control—but we can listen to it. Let this be a movement of desire, not of guilt. You're seeking God past the dread. You want to grow enough that the ideas people have taught you don't stand between you and what you want—and you've already done so much of this growth. I believe that you can keep moving in the direction of God, and find God in more and more places. But you don't have to pretend it's not hard. And if it was easy I'm not sure that would be a good thing.

Your experiences and associations and discomfort and fear—they're your history and they're also the history of the text. I'm sure you've heard people say "Don't let stuff like that turn you away from the original meaning of the verses!" Or "Jesus didn't mean that!" But of course the verses hold weight. They've had baggage before they ever got to you—two thousand years of it. Hold space for the fact that they've been used to hurt you and others. That's not meaningless—it's part of the meaning now. People who claimed their destruction was what Jesus meant have added to the history of Jesus and the text—and people who created love and beauty in honor of those verses have also added to these histories. We can learn about the original meaning of the text, but we cannot erase or ignore the meanings that have existed over the years. Go into this without guilt or pressure or expectation, and bring the anger and confusion and bad experiences. The text is strong enough to handle them. God is strong enough to handle them.

I want to acknowledge that finding God in the Hebrew Bible and existing there with Them is a beautiful thing. You don't have to equally relate to every single part of a religion to create a home there. Of course I hope that you grow new connections with the NT, but if it's never the same as the OT, that's not a flaw or a failure. None of us can find all the places where God is present and hold them all equally. Our brains aren't big enough for that. You have created a beautiful connection with God, and I hope that you know that there are so many fulfilled, faithful people who have not, and will never, experience God in the NT. Of course these people generally aren't Christian—and that's obviously a choice you can make—but I hope that knowledge reminds you that you aren't doing anything wrong. You have a duty to God, not to religion. And you certainly don't have a duty to the ideas you've grown up with or translators or interpreters or even to Biblical writers. We enter religion to learn and create community and to fully live out our duty to God—religion serves us, not the other way around. 

I love that you brought up conservative dogwhistles because this is a point that, again, I've heard more people fall on the other side of! More people have a problem with the politics of the OT, for lots of reasons. The NT was written much closer to our current point in history, of course, in a time and culture much more familiar to most of us than Ancient Israel. The Roman Empire's language and government and philosophy has influenced the world immensely, and I think for most people it's therefore easier to exist in/relate to/project on. For you, though, this might be having the opposite effect. The fact that the Roman Empire is closer and more influential to our culture may make you more aware of its injustices and biases. Conservatism as we know it is much closer to values found in the Christian scriptures than the Jewish ones partially because it's more culturally and politically similar to ours. (Think about how many far-right people idolize the Roman Empire! And of course, think about how many conservatives are Christians.) 

I'm assuming, because you're someone who notices politics in texts, that you've probably confronted things in the OT that you've had to process and put in context and perhaps still struggle with. I know that you've been met with violence and patriarchy, and that you've read verses that you probably know have been used to justify racism, sexism, slavery, and homophobia. Perhaps you've come to these chapters and said something like, "Wow, this has been used for a lot of evil, and this is something I have to deal with, but I also want to give grace to the culture that existed this way and told these stories, see the times that systems like patriarchy are challenged and changed over time, and use this for good and liberation in my own life." Maybe this is easy for you, or maybe it's taken a lot of strength. 

Barbara Brown Taylor talks about "shadow languages" in her book Holy Envy (which I recommend)—languages in the Bible that assume things, that carry with them narratives we need to look out for. She identifies the language of contempt, the one of social hierarchy, the one that glorifies suffering for suffering's sake, the one that divides reality into opposed pairs. She tells us that "the purpose of staying on the lookout for languages like these is to prevent them from becoming uncontested parts of the Christian worldview. Every time I run into one of them hard enough to hurt, I turn around and look in the opposite direction, where there is almost always a counternarrative in scripture, just waiting for someone to notice it."

I think about how slavery is not abolished in the Bible—it has not been abolished ever. At various times in history, it has been taken for granted, challenged, uprooted, and changed form. Why are the ancient Israelites freed from captivity and go on to enslave people? Why does God move them to chip away at slavery but not fully eradicate it? Why does Paul say there is no slave or free under Christ Jesus, but preserves the social hierarchy inherent to that statement? It angers me that oppression is never abolished completely and immediately, but I also know that's not how people (or true stories) work. We take a lot of things for granted—and that leads many people to conservatism. I love Paul's writings, and I also know that his greatest sin (like many of us) was believing God's love liberated only as far as his imagination. He could imagine a God who loved the enslaved, could imagine a world in which their souls were equal, but could not imagine a world without slavery. He could imagine a spiritual equality of men and women, but not a social one. The gospel writers could worship a Jewish man as God, honor the scriptures he quoted, and add no nuance to the Jewish leaders who opposed him. They could imagine a messiah coming from Judaism but could not give grace to the Judaism around them.We all have failures of imagination, and we are always wrong. (Thanks be to God.)

I am not in the business of excusing harmful systems. I don't think you should do this when tackling the NT—I think you should challenge it and accuse it and dismantle it. But I also want you to remember the grace that you have brought to the Hebrew Bible. You have found God in a text with a lot of hard things and a lot of beautiful things—I bet you can do it again. Maybe it's more personal this time, maybe it's closer to your culture, but you have the skills. And maybe this is gonna make you go back to the OT with harsher eyes—so be it. Be curious about how this changes your relationship with history—humanity's and your own. However you understand conservatism, you can find it in both parts of the Christian Bible. And you can't take away the ways people have furthered that. But you can see them, and you can build relationships with the stories, knowing that your imagination can go further—and God's goes further still. You have been taught by bigoted people and a bigoted world, and you know it. You already know you want God, not them.

So what do we do when someone got their hands all over the New Testament? I love that question, because they absolutely have. They're still doing it. Someone got their hands all over the OT too—actually, probably more and worse someones seeing as it's a Jewish text and Christian hands are inherently meddling. But this is all part of the text's history. However much we believe God was involved, people wrote in their own language and from their own culture.  The curation and copying and collecting and translating and analysis inherent to the Bible's existence (it didn't spring fully formed into the King James Version) are people's hands. We can't take that away—and in fact, we needed their hands for these texts to get to us. 

Reclaiming the Bible for me has not included pretending those hands don't exist—especially when they're personal. What it has included is prying some of those hands off to see God underneath. The thing about that, though, is that it gets our fingerprints involved. You can't reach into a text and find God without getting your hands dirty. There is no pure holy text in this life. The NT that you're reading—unless you're smarter than me—is already translated. You can learn to read Greek, you can study history, but you're gonna be doing it with your own hands. While you're finding God in the text, accept that even if you go all the way back, the original writers' fingerprints are on the very first copy. 

Let this move you to know that none of it is empty. I acknowledge the barrenness you're describing as the only thing you can see right now—but know that even if this is overwhelming, it's proof that the text itself is full. The fact that so many people, for good and evil, have touched it and transformed it, the fact that you desire connection with it, means that it is not empty. There would be nothing there for you to want to reclaim—but you're asking.

I think it would be really interesting for you to find the humanity in the gospels. Look for the people. Yes, these are characters told and retold—you can see the fingerprints—but they were people first. Look for people reclaiming and messing around and taking cultural things for granted and challenging other things—and live in it with them. Don't approach any of it as a solid text that exists—look at it as a living, breathing text that we all tear into. And, yes, this means people are going to twist it almost beyond recognition, but they do not have a monopoly on joining the story—you bring your experiences and your biases. Be human with it, the way that I'm sure you are with the OT, which is full of flawed, evil people who sing beautiful songs. Be human with them.

Enlarge your theological circle. Read liberation theology, queer theology, disability theology. Read the Quran, which is an amazing time that people got their hands on the NT (as well as having its own history of violence). Find different, beautiful hands that tell these stories in new ways. I can't promise you'll find beauty—that's such an emotional and personal experience. We can't force beauty out of anything. But other people have found and created beauty, and we can experience it secondhand—through stained glass, a musical, a movie, a song, a poem—not because their eyes are better than yours, but because they're also honest.

Barbara Brown Taylor (again in Holy Envy) recounts wisdom from a visiting imam, who "explained that the long lineage of Muslim scholars who have worked collaboratively for centuries to interpret the Quran in the most humane ways are more to be trusted than those who spill blood based on their own readings and ambitions." There are always other traditions, and when all we can see is a weapon, there are those who will unclench our fists. 

I would encourage you to make sure you have a NT text that has footnotes to tell you when someone is quoting the Hebrew Bible. The NT is in relationship with, building on and interpreting and philosophizing about, the OT. If you are coming from the OT, bring those verses with you, the same way Jesus and early Christian writers did. The New Testament as a body of work did not exist for the first Christians—the scriptures they had were the ones you have connected with. You're in such good company. Look at how easily Jesus quotes scripture, the verses he adds on to and interacts with, the prophecies he sees himself in. Look at the sacrifice imagery that the gospel writers use to talk about Jesus—assuming that the reader will be familiar with these themes. Even within the OT, we can see later Jewish prophets criticizing and conversing with earlier verses—humanity is constantly in conversation with itself and God. You have such a good foundation for understanding this relationship.

The other good foundation you have? Wrestling with a text. It's the ones we're in community with that are the ones we're most often in conflict with and hold to the highest standards—for Jesus, this was the Jewish community he was a part of, and for you, this might be the NT. Have beef with your own scriptures and communities and religious leaders—reclaiming and wrestling are what the gospels are about. Acts and the letters in the NT are continuously debating the relevance of various OT verses. Do hard work on a text, and do it in good company.

Carry with you the scriptures you love as you travel into unfamiliar or painted-over territory. Know that you have something to come back to, however far you g0. While wading into waters you don't understand, you know that there's land under your feet—and you know that it's land that Jesus valued, that all the people in the NT valued, even as they wrestled with it. The first verses of the NT are a genealogy from Abraham to Jesus's adoptive father. Christians see this all as one story—whether you believe that right now or not, the human story is constantly moving, and God is your solid ground. 

Jesus set down a foundation on that rock of God and Christians have added bricks to it and torn stuff down and messed around and burned it and kept building it—but you know there's God under it, because you've seen Them. So when you read Paul awkwardly shoving some bricks together and think, "That's not how I would build a community…" know that God's under there. When you read Peter denying Jesus, know that his name still means "rock," that you can still create solid ground after everything. You know where God is, and also, our lives are ever-expanding journeys of finding where else God could be. Yours looks different from the Christians who consider the NT to be that same rock, but that's okay! It's okay if the OT is a firm foundation for you, and the NT is one of the bricks. Look for God in those awkward bricks, which I know you can do because you've already done it. King David wrote the most beautiful songs I know—you don't ignore his murder and rape, you honor the whole story.

John 3:16 is a much-loved verse—but it being more important than other verses is a construct. You don't have to like it—in fact, the context of this is Jesus talking to Nicodemus, who doesn't understand what he's saying. Jesus is very familiar with confusion and even anger as a response—and he even seems to seek it out sometimes. Nicodemus comes to him as a genuine student, and Jesus starts going on about being born again, something that his new student seems to have no foundation for. Oh, to be a confused new student rather than someone whose had "being born again" held over my head! I wish I could come to the idea with no baggage! I wish I had no foundation for that idea, so I could start over—which would, perhaps, come closer to what Jesus is saying than any evangelical teaching. 

Take care, keep trudging. Whatever path this brings you to, whatever communities you end up building, know that with God as the foundation, even awkward haphazard fingerprinted ripped-up texts can tell stories that we need to hear. I can't take away the associations you have with these texts, but I can pray you create new ones. Learn new songs, meet new characters. Get your hands messy. 

Don't force a positive relationship—what people have done with the text is a barrier to you right now, and this might be more of a journey with a barrier than a going through it. There are pieces of barriers I've broken open that come with me when I revisit those verses. You already have a more honest relationship with all of this than so many others, and you have the skills already to know that it is God, not the world's followers, that you want. 

I hope this wasn't long-winded nonsense, and I hope something here resonates. The short answer (which I probably should have put at the beginning) is that yes, I've experienced something like this. The year I couldn't read the Bible without panicking, I cried while watching The Prince of Egypt. In the years after that, I almost came back to it like I was converting—reading the basics, starting from scratch. Growing up and becoming purposely Christian (rather than your parents exactly) is a kind of conversion, and you have to reclaim the texts, and ask God to reclaim you as you are now. 

Isaiah 55:10-11 tells us that God's word pours out like rain, and never returns empty. It sticks with us until something grows inside us. And John begins his gospel by telling us that the word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. This is a living word, one that cried and got angry and fell in love with his friends and participated in a culture and wrestled with God's will and interpreted scripture and was a person with us. You'll have to forgive Christianity for being so human—God did it first. God got his fingerprints all over us, and we wrote texts that have God's living breathing word—and also our messy hands. Thank God for your hands, and the love that they will bring. 

<3 Johanna

#gonna be so real this was 11 pages on google docs and i got it down to 6. so if you think this is too long just know this. #asks

[kmartmithril]

You’re Buddy Dawn. It’s a normal day at school, accept you’ve volunteered (or been voluntold by your party) to revive members of a “rival” party going in for the Last Stand. By all counts you’ve done everything right, you’ve played your part. All you have to do is watch the fight.

The party’s cleric turns to you, but she’s looking past you. You speak up, hoping for a moment of connection with the wayward helioic chosen one.

That’s the last thing you remember. Cold steel cuts your body down a moment later as a determined rogue uses you to try and get what she wants. Claims of “fairness” ring in your ear, a mantra as holy to Kipperlily as any scripture in the good book of Helio.

The Bad Kids can’t survive if you die, right? Not that you’re aware of any of this, you were the new kid who needed a party, and the “Rat Grinders” just lost their cleric last year. You see them as potential converts, they see you as a pawn.

You’re Buddy Dawn. You’ve stood before the face of god and he’s no different from any of the people on your school’s blood rush team, maybe worse. You ask him “why?” And he says nothing.

Then, you’re back. You’re back in your own body, surrounded by concerned faces- but all you can think is how angry you are.

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high spoilers #this isn’t anything #it’s just a speculation #esp given how he’s a foil to Kristen

[iwanthermidnightz]

I can count on one hand the people I feel safe with in the studio. Jack Antonoff makes you feel like you can just be. Whether we’re tracking fingernail percussion, getting existential, or doing some good ol’ soul-healing gossiping, I always leave our sessions with a new outlook.

I don’t know a producer with a more diverse breadth of work. Yes, we all know the albums he produced and won multiple Grammys for, but I always go back to the music he performs himself. When I listen to Bleachers, I hear subtle threads of his production ear that is present in his contributions to other artists’ projects, but it’s in his own artistry that he glows. And the live shows: holy sh-t.

One of my favorite memories of Jack was watching his father watch him perform last year. If I weren’t having so much fun, I would have been sobbing at the beaming pride in his father’s eyes. We were witnessing a literal rock-’n’-roll revival.

There’s a reason everyone wants to be near Jack. He’s just f-cking cool. The best part? He knows it but would never say it.

#congrats jack! #jack antonoff