#kelly talks trash

[dangancode]

Rain Code Chapter 0, and why its Twist F*cking Sucks.

This is going to be the start of a series I call "My Gripes with Master Detective Archives: Rain Code". Unfortunately, they are quite numerous, but I figure it's better for me to split them up rather then write one massive post complaining about it.

Because yeah, I did the writer's equivalent of a rage quit on this game, and it breaks my heart. Not only because the writing doesn't work, but because IT HAD THE POTENTIAL TO.

And what better place to start this then the Massacre on the Amaterasu Express, and why shock value is not good writing.

Spoilers for Chapter 0 of Rain Code, and also for Danganronpa 1, 2, V3, and UDG.

Right off the bat, we're introduced to five other characters besides our infamous protagonist, Yuma Kokohead. Aphex Logan, Melami Goldmine, Pucci Lavmin, Zilch Alexander, and Zange Eraser. They're introduced, provide a bit of exposition to Yuma and the player, and their dynamics seem pretty solid so far. Each of them has room to develop, there's hints that Pucci might be a love interest of sorts to Yuma, and some of even show off cool powers that definitely might come in handy in later cases. But then what happens?

They're all f*cking killed. They last twenty minutes before every single one of them, including the culprit, all die off-screen.

SO YEAH. IF YOU'RE ANYTHING AT ALL LIKE ME, YOU'RE MAD. Not upset, not devastated seeing characters you like die.

F*CKING. MAD.

What Kodaka seems to have forgotten when writing Chapter 0, is that there's a reason the deaths in the Danganronpa series work. THEY EXPLICITLY PUT THE IDEA OF MURDER INTO YOUR HEAD. From the very moment Monokuma is introduced in DR1, he says directly, without any sugarcoating, that the only way the characters can get out of permanent imprisonment is to kill someone and get away with it.

The writers don't say who will die (ignoring the whole 11037 thing), because they don't NEED TO. They know the player is smart enough to use context clues and figure out, "Hey, Sayaka and Makoto have been getting awfully chummy, chances are she's probably kicking the bucket." It makes sense, there's payoff, and the moments leading up to that are meant to build connection between the player and the characters.

WHAT PAYOFF IS THERE IN RAIN CODE CHAPTER 0'S TWIST?!

There is none, because Kodaka forgot to give us, the player, any semblance of a hint aside from the chapter's title that maaaaaybe these characters aren't gonna live much longer so try to avoid getting attached.

And no, saying "it's made by the same people who made Danganronpa so it's on you for not expecting that" does not suffice here. Even if Rain Code were established to be part of the same universe or whatnot (it's not), why didn't they give us a bit more warning?

WHAT IS THE POINT OF INTRODUCING THESE CHARACTERS IN THE FIRST PLACE IF THEY'RE ALL GONNA DIE WITHIN TWENTY MINUTES OF MEETING THEM?

The short answer is: shock value.

Take a look at Kodaka's writing, and you'll find that he adores shock value. Between the protagonist swap in V3, the divisive "it's a lie!!" ending, and a handful of deaths throughout the series (Taka, Hiyoko, Yuta Asahina), and it becomes entirely clear that payoff isn't his top priority. It's pulling the rug from under our feet, watching us land on the floor, and when we say, "WTF Kodaka?!", his response is probably, "IDK what to tell you fam, you really should've seen that coming."

No, my dude. Of course I didn't see this twist coming. Because you did a terrible job with your foreshadowing. You introduced five characters whose only purpose is to improve your marketing by showcasing a bigger cast on the game's cover art, vaguely hinted at potential development in later chapters, and then did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WITH THEM.

As a writer, I despise shock value. Not hinting at a twist properly beforehand almost never works, and when it does, it falls in line with what we know about the story and the stakes. But by the time the stakes are set up in Rain Code, Aphex and the others are already gone, so their deaths don't really matter.

If Aphex, Melami, Pucci, Zilch and Zange didn't exist, THIS STORY WOULD'VE PANNED OUT THE EXACT SAME WAY. Nobody mentions these characters again anyway, SO WHY DO THEY EVEN EXIST?

Oh, and I've barely discussed the culprit himself, "Zilch-Alexander-but not-really-it's-just-some-unnamed-hitman-who-looks-and-sounds-exactly-like-him."

You mean to tell me that the real Zilch just happened to look EXACTLY LIKE THIS RANDOM HITMAN? A hitman who, much later in the game, is revealed to be old pals with Yomi Hellsmile, the symbolic leader of Amaterasu?

You're telling me this isn't actually a hitman, he's an insider from Amaterasu who managed to not only get out of Kanai Ward, but only left to kill four detectives, use some intricately designed train to pull off their murders, and then frame the trainee who just happened to have amnesia so his alibi is already pretty shaky?

You're telling me he got past all of the security regulations that Kanai Ward had in place preventing people from getting in or out, and instead of taking this opportunity to spread Amaterasu's influence, HE WENT STRAIGHT BACK THERE AND EXPECTED TO BE GREETED WITH OPEN ARMS?!

Are you starting to get why I have issues with this chapter?

It would've been so much simpler to say "Zilch was bribed by Amaterasu to betray the WDO". Melami or Aphex could even mention something along the lines of, "Not all detectives care about the truth. Some only care about lining their own pockets and making themselves look better in the eyes of the WDO." Which would make it easier for us to understand that detectives don't always have everyone's best interests in mind.

And if it's absolutely necessary for the sake of the plot, to fuel Yuma's desire to solve injustices and learn how to use the Mystery Labyrinth to uncover the truth, why can't it just be ONE DEATH INSTEAD OF FOUR?

I discussed this with a friend of mine on Discord, but rewriting this chapter so that only Zange dies would be incredibly easy. Zange realizes their drinks are drugged, and when everyone else falls asleep, he confronts Zilch. Of course it ends badly, and by the time the others realize he's dead, Zilch's status as the traitor becomes even more apparent. One Mystery Labyrinth later, and Swank kills Zilch for blowing cover, saying something like, "You said this would go off without a hitch." It would make Amaterasu seem more like a threat, since they're willing to go to such extreme lengths to compromise the WDO's involvement in Kanai Ward. Aphex, Melami and Pucci would all join the rest of the detective gang along with Yuma, and the story would proceed as normal.

Do you see how easy that was? I'm not trying to say this would've been better than how it actually played out, but I certainly would've enjoyed the game a bit more, at least.

Anyways, I digress. Rants are exhausting, but I definitely feel better getting all of this off my chest. Of course, you're free to agree or disagree, but I'd really prefer not to be called an egomaniac just because I disliked Kodaka's galaxy brain storytelling on this one.

Have a great rest of your day or night, I'm gonna go lay down now. :')

#did i even do a good job explaining all this?? #i'm worried i made no sense here #my gripes with master detective archives: rain code #kelly talks trash #long post #rain code chapter 0 #rain code spoilers #rain code #aphex logan #zilch alexander #pucci lavmin #melami goldmine #zange eraser

[singlethread]

Hen, Karen, and Eddie wine night where they get drunk and read Taylor Kelly’s book and trash talk it WHEN

#911 fox #911 abc

[macfrog]

illicit affairs

cowboy like me chapter eleven

howdy everyone it's me again 🤠 latest chapter of cowboy like me is now yours. do with it as you wish. love u all so much. see ya soon x

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: your relationship with joel is getting harder and harder to hide, especially when a surprise visit from your dad threatens to spoil your romantic weekend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is a lil hungover, gluten bagels, lots of LIES, reader and joel being horny devils, gene kelly, unprotected piv sex, sex tape, praise kink, fluff, cockwarming, angst!!! and pain!!!!, reader and joel fight, cheating....??, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You wake in the same position you fell asleep in just hours ago: curled up in Joel’s bed, the curve of his body safely encasing yours. His lips are still by your ear, breath gentle against your lobe. You lean over to lift your phone from the nightstand.

8:14. You’ve had less than four hours’ sleep.

Below the time there’s a text message, sent a couple hours ago.

Dad: Remember to take the trash out before you pass out kiddo. Hope you had a good night 👍

Well, that was never happening, was it? As far as your dad knows, his best friend had picked you up from Frank’s and given you a ride home. Probably walked you to the house on his steady arm, made sure you downed a glass of water before seeing you off upstairs to bed. Polite. Respectful.

Of course, your dad is blissfully unaware that, in actual fact, at 6AM you were in said best friend’s bed, pressed up against him, no clothes between you, fast asleep. Definitely not making sure the trash was out.

The bright screen burns into your eyes as you squint at the notification below his text, decorated with alarm emojis – your way of ensuring you remembered to get back before him. DAD HOME stares back at you ominously, eventually persuading you to push yourself up off the mattress, loosen Joel’s lazy hold on your waist, and slip out of bed.

Joel, still asleep, rolls across your side of the bed onto his stomach when you sit up, sighing into your pillow as you prop yourself on the edge of the bed. You sit for a minute, dumb smile wide across your lips with no one to conceal it from, staring at him. Studying every part of him in his content, sleepy state.

The sharp curve of his jawline, the flecks of gray through his beard. The soft brush of hair falling on his forehead, deep brown curling just above his eyebrows. His toned shoulder, round and strong, flexing some with the grip his arm has around your pillow. His face buried in the cotton, breathing you in.

You jump when your phone starts vibrating in your hand, pad across to the door and slip out, closing it gently behind you.

“Hello?” you whisper.

Your dad’s voice is like a foghorn in your hungover ear. “Mornin’, kiddo! Wake ya?”

You wince, clutching your forehead as the quick movement from Joel’s bed to his hallway catches up with your aching brain. “Mighta done, yeah.”

He chuckles. The car hums in the background while he talks, meaning he yells even louder to compensate. “I’m about an hour out, thought I’d bring in some breakfast. You want anythin’?”

“I’m good with whatever. You’ll be back soon?”

“Nine-thirty or so, looks like. Why?”

“Nothin’, just wondered. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Hey, d’you take the trash out?”

“Uh, I can’t– You’re breakin’ up, there, Dad, I’ll see you when you get home. Alright, cool, see ya then, bye.”

You cut his babbling voice and hang up, clutching the phone to your chest, close your eyes and exhale. When you swing back into the room quietly, Joel’s still sleeping.

You slip back into your dress and pull your boots on, scanning the room for your panties. No sign of them, though, and it’s not like you got all the time in the world to search. They’re probably underneath Joel’s deadweight body, anyway.

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and crouch, kissing his neck softly.

He stirs, hand lets go of the pillowcase and finds yours, intertwining your fingers sleepily.

“I gotta go, baby,” you whisper, running your fingers through his unkempt hair.

His voice mumbles into the cotton, deep and groggy. You catch the tail end of his sentence: “…give you a ride.”

“No,” you reply, laughing a little as you sweep hair from his forehead. “I’m good, I’ll walk. You sleep. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Text me when you’re…home…”

The words barely pass through his lips as he begins to drop off again, and you kiss his head before straightening up, grabbing your bag, and heading downstairs.

You dip into the kitchen before you go, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. You’re fucking parched. Hungover, exhausted, you roll the freezing cold bottle across your forehead. It does little to soothe the throbbing pain, but it takes the edge off of it for a few seconds before you’re slinging the bottle under your arm and searching through Joel’s cupboard.

You steal a bagel. Feels kinda hard, probably a day past its best, but it’ll do. You set off, picking at the dry bread as you walk, holding it between two fingers as you gulp at the water.

It’s the blandest walk of shame that ever happened.

Twenty minutes later and you’re pushing through your front door, fucking drenched in sweat. Your jacket’s tied around your waist, leather hot and stiff. You toss your keys on the kitchen counter and collapse into the couch, letting your heartrate settle and waiting for the room to stop pulling in and out of focus.

Your head is pounding now, your throat feels like sandpaper. Your body aches, though if you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure that’s just from the hangover.

Once you’re in a fitter state, pulse no longer beating through your eyeballs, you head upstairs and tears your clothes off to jump in the shower. You keep it on a low heat, only warm, and it soothes your skin and flushes the smell of alcohol, sweat, and Joel down the drain.

You’re back in the kitchen, hunched over the counter nursing a coffee, when your dad waltzes through the front door. You lift your towel-wrapped head from your hand and look up.

“Well, hello,” he calls. “I notice ours is the only house in the street with no tra–”

“How was your trip?” you cut in, eyes screwing shut.

“Ha. Good. Nice drive, up that way. I got us bagels. Want one?”

Sometimes it’s like some twisted fucker is sat writing this comedy into your life. He brought home bagels? After you just choked one down walking home in the blistering heat? Whatever, dude.

“Thanks,” you mutter flatly against your mug, reaching out for the paper bag he’s offering.

Your dad lifts his own bagel, takes a huge bite, then looks up at you and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. When you bite into yours, you’re…less enthusiastic. It does taste better than the dry one you just had, though. The cream cheese helps.

“I, uh…I’ll be headin’ out again soon,” you tell him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Staying at Anna’s tonight,” you lie, setting your coffee down. “Said we’d have a pool day.”

He nods, mouth full of food. “Sounds nice, kiddo. Nice day for a tan. Hey, uh, how was Joel?”

You almost choke on your bagel. “Wh-what?”

“Joel. He alright?”

You shrug, picking at the bread. Unable to meet your dad’s eye. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask ‘im? I don’t know how he is.”

He stares at you. Brows knit, a line between them pointing upward. “I was just wonderin’…since he…He did pick you up last night, right?”

Oh, fuck.

“Oh,” you bat a hand, tucking it back under the counter when you notice it trembling. “Oh, right. I thought you meant this morning. Yeah, he was fine. He…Yeah. Fine.”

“Uhuh,” your dad nods, eyes narrow.

You don’t have the energy or the brainpower to be convincing. Not right now. There’s alcohol still drying up in your blood, muscles still tight from that fucking hike home, and your mind isn’t even in the room with your dad right now. It’s elsewhere – wrapped up in Joel’s bedsheets with him.

“I hope you didn’t keep him up too late.”

“It was, like, 2AM or somethin’. Wasn’t so bad. He said he was up watching TV anyways. So.”

He seems to believe this – swallows it down with the last few bites of his breakfast. You continue chatting, covering over your blunder like packing dirt back into a hole in the earth, conversation drifting from how your girls night went, to how his trip was, to an awkward apology for ‘forgetting’ the trash. He won’t let that go, will he?

But it’s short-lived. Soon, you both fall into silence, and the air between you feels muggy. Thick with lies and secrecy. Things you can’t say – I wanted a McDonald’s, but Joel wouldn’t budge, then I caught him watching Grey’s Anatomy, did you know he’s only slept with ten – I mean nine people?

Your dad glances up a few times, studies your face. You hide behind your bagel, guilt and shame across your cheeks like a wine stain. But he only smiles pleasantly, until he’s throwing the last bite into his mouth and rubbing his hands together, announcing he’s going for a shower.

“I’ll take your bag to your room,” you crumble the paper wrapped inside your fist, toss it across to him, “I gotta pack anyways.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, patting your back as you pass him.

You don’t look back when you lift the leather straps of his bag and lug it upstairs.

It drops from your clutches with a thud at the foot of his bed. And then you’re quite literally skipping through to your own room, grabbing a black tote from your closet and blindly tossing clothes into it. A spare t-shirt, underwear, socks. Who gives a fuck what you pack? You’re going to Joel’s – the clothes will probably last five minutes on your body before you’re peeling them off again.

One thing you do take time picking is your bikini, opting for a red strappy one. Your old roommate once told you it made you look like you were in an episode of Baywatch. Which, y’know, seems like Joel’s kinda thing.

Your dad’s stood by his bed, hair damp from his shower, unpacking his bag when you emerge from your room.

“That you leaving your old man?” he asks with a tut, folding a t-shirt onto the mattress in front of him.

You wander through, sweet smile on your face, and kiss his cheek. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Have fun, honey.”

And then you’re gone. Straight back to Joel’s.

You’ve been away a couple hours, if that, but when you wander up his driveway, he’s not home. He keeps a spare key under a plant by his door, so you let yourself in. Sink back into his couch, throw on an old episode of Love Island while you wait. Twenty minutes later, his truck pulls up and he shoulders the door open, grocery bags in his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss your head as he passes.

You switch the TV off and follow him through to the kitchen to help him unpack, rocking into his side as you empty the bags with a giggle.

“He ask?”

You shake your head, chewing on a Twizzler.

“Nothin’? Really?”

“Didn’t really give him time to,” you reply. “Had breakfast, grabbed my stuff, left. And I parked a couple streets away, just on the off-chance.”

Joel looks down at you with a hesitant smile on his lips. He steals the Twizzler from between your teeth and puts it in his own mouth.

“Dick,” you mumble, and he chuckles quietly.

“You know, darlin’…all this lyin’, covering our tracks, I…”

“Joel,” you lean into him, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “I don’t care. There’s nowhere else in the world I wanna be. Just with you. He’ll find somethin’ to do, you know he will.”

He gazes at you for a few seconds, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. You lean your head back and his arm snakes around your waist, squeezing you into his side.

“Trouble,” he mutters, taking a six-pack of beer over to the fridge.

----------

The summer sun blazes down over Joel’s backyard, and the pair of you spend the afternoon by his pool, keeping cool by having a dip every now and then. The red bikini is, as it turns out, a hit: Joel can’t keep his eyes – or his hands – off you, anytime you push up off your lounge chair and slink over to the pool edge, slipping in beside him.

You lock your arms around his neck, legs lazily draped over his hips as he floats you both through the water, and turn your head to the sky; eyes shut, the inside of your lids bright red with the sun screaming down through them. Joel idly kisses your chest, lips curving around your collarbones.

“I like this,” you say, looking down at him. Droplets run down the ends of his dark hair, beads of water rolling down his temples. “I could get used to it.”

“Wish we could,” he replies, bucking you up under his forearms. “I like it, too.”

It feels nice, if a little bit of an ache. Hearing him talk like that. Everything you two ever say, no matter how thick with sincerity, is laced with threat. Wish we could. Because you never will be able to get used to it, right? Something will always be swimming underneath you, a black shadow that disappears whenever you attempt one good glance at it.

Something always threatening to spill your secrets. Something threatening to blow everything apart.

Joel lifts a hand to cup the back of your head and pulls your lips down to meet his, moving backward until his back hits the wall of the pool. Your teeth pick up his bottom lip, tongue slips past into his mouth, and he groans, smiling into the kiss.

You begin to feel him harden under his trunks, and you grind your core against him.

“Inside?” he breathes between kisses.

“Mhm,” you whine, and he drags you out of the pool back into the house.

You spend the entire day following a pattern: eat, chill, tease, fuck. Eat, chill, tease, fuck. As the sun begins to melt behind the trees lining Joel’s backyard, you’ve spend more time on your knees, underneath, or on top of Joel than you have actually tanning.

Can you blame yourselves? Whenever you get alone time with no risk of being caught, it’s hard to keep your hands off one another. With no reason to keep quiet or hidden, you can fuck around all you want without a care in the world, right?

Right.

You order pizza, laze in the slow-dying sun to eat it, talking about nothing and everything before one of you steers the conversation and, before you know it…your bikini bottoms are pushed to the side, or otherwise torn from your body.

Eat, chill, tease, fuck. It’s too easy.

When the yard is finally drowned by dusk, Joel grabs some blankets and you spend the evening on his couch, talking some more and then deciding which movie to watch. You’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain. Joel takes obscene offense to this fact.

“What kind of film student ain’t seen Singin’ in the Rain?”

“We actually did study it for one of my classes,” you mutter, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “Flicked through the important parts. Wasn’t my thing.”

“Well, you gotta watch the whole film. It’s a classic. Won at the Oscars ‘n everythin’.”

His enthusiasm almost makes you hold back – the way he’s sat on the edge of his seat, twisted around to chastise you properly for your ignorance of musical film. This could be the most animated you’ve ever seen him – over Gene Kelly. So, you almost bite your tongue.

Almost.

“Didn’t it…famously get nothing?”

His face sours in a heartbeat. Expression drops like a sack of bricks. He turns away from you and throws himself back into the couch, grumbling. “Alright, smartass. Watch it, and we’ll talk after.”

“I’m just sayin’, it–”

“We’ll talk. After.”

It’s still not your thing. For a multitude of reasons, but the newest one, the most difficult of all to let go: you can’t get the way Joel spoke out of your mind.

Just shut you right up, didn’t he? With three flat words, and a look in his eye that warned you not to push him. But fuck, you want to. You want to make him talk. Now.

Fifteen minutes into the film, you sit forward and swipe his phone from the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” he asks in that monotone voice, the one he always uses whenever you’re pissing him off. Whenever you’re…getting to him.

“Bored,” you state, thumbs tapping in his passcode. You’ve been around him enough by now, studying every little move he makes, to just absorb dumb little things about him like the fact that his passcode is 0908, because those are the three numbers his thumb can reach easiest.

The phone clicks open and your eyes dance over the screen, deciding which app to load first.

Joel says your name. Just once. But it’s enough.

You angle your head in his direction. Bat your eyelashes.

“Enough. Watch the damn movie, would ya?”

Your head rolls back around to his phone. You click the photos app.

Joel curses under his breath, shaking his head and turning back to the screen. His eyes are boring into the pixels, mumbling things you’re too busy scrolling through his camera roll to listen to.

It’s mostly screenshots. Contracts, invoices, receipts. Boring Joel stuff. There’s the odd photo of his backyard, a few where the sunset rips across the tops of the trees in a fiery glow. They’re a little tilted, a little off balance. You smile at his attempt at photography.

“You gotta learn how to straighten your pictures, dude.”

“Took that for you,” he utters through a mouthful of popcorn. “Thought you’d like the sky with the trees in front, ‘n all.”

“Coulda text me it,” you say, letting him swipe through the photos to show you, each one from a slightly different angle to get more of the trees in, crop the pool out, hide the horrendous rosebush his neighbor has creeping over his fence.

He shrugs, pulling his hand away. “Musta been distracted by all the dumb stuff you send me.”

“Fine, no more funny videos. You’ve done it now, Miller.”

He chuckles and his attention turns back to the film. You’re slowly creeping further back through his pictures – measurements for something he’s building, different thicknesses of lumber propped against each other under the fluorescent light of Home Depot. And then –

You recognize the huge arching window first. Sunlight casting across a white tablecloth, polished cutlery shimmering. The velvet curtains in the background, and the made-up diners dotted around behind you and Sarah, both grinning into her phone camera.

“When did you…?”

Joel’s lips press the crown of your head. “Saw her gettin’ her phone out ‘n thought it’d be a nice picture from that angle, too.”

“Joel…” you breathe, eyes stuck on the image of your swollen cheeks, more centered in the frame than Sarah’s brown curls.

Your thumb swipes once and there’s a second photo: Sarah’s arm is lowered, she’s typing out her caption. You’re still smiling, looking over her shoulder as she selects the perfect cocktail of emojis.

She’s barely in the frame. It’s all you. Only you.

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, limp hands dropping the phone to your stomach.

“’s just a photo, baby.”

And he’s right. Or – he’d be right, if it weren’t the only two photos of a human being in his entire camera roll. The only person he deems worth taking a picture of. The only one, in amongst trees, and emails, and wooden planks. The things that make up Joel, in your mind. His work, his home, and…you.

As quick as the thought delights you, it’s already terrifying you. Thrill barging through your veins, competing with fear to shock through your system the hardest.

“Alright,” you mutter, switching to his camera app and turning the phone to aim at him, “just a photo.”

You watch on the screen as he gives you a telling glance, holds his hand up to block the lens, and says, “Baby. Will you put that–? Hey. Watch the damn movie, now.”

“No,” you reply, avoiding his palm to snap a picture of his face. You twist in your seat until you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him, your feet in his lap, pulling a cushion to swipe at his attempts to grab the phone. “No, c’mon. We gotta fill your camera roll with more ‘n just contracting stuff.”

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah.”

Your thumb swipes to video mode, hitting the bright red button and giggling when Joel’s deadpan face turns to watch you behind his phone.

“Quit – it,” he chuckles, swatting the phone from his face.

“You wanna watch a movie, maybe I wanna make one.”

His stare darkens. A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. You hear it how he heard it seconds after, and you mirror his expression.

“Enough,” he tells you again, voice low, but it’s less of a telling as it is…a warning.

You put the phone down. Lock it, slide it across the couch to Joel. Silent. Giving him the choice.

His fingers lock around it, clicking the button to light the screen back up. He studies it for a second, deliberating, and then leans forward, setting it on the coffee table.

When you turn to look, the phone is sat on its side, screen reflecting back the image of the two of you; Joel, sat upright in the couch, and you, strewn out beside him. The oversized shirt you’re wearing has ridden up past your underwear, pooling on your stomach.

He’s staring at you. You can see it in his phone. You turn to look back, and he lifts his palm. Ball’s back in your court.

“Turn the TV off,” you mutter. You’re not fucking him with Singin’ in the Rain in the background.

He keeps his eyes on you, reaching for the remote. The screen cuts to black.

“Sure you wanna–?”

“C’mere,” you cut in, tossing the cushion and pulling him into you when he moves.

Somewhere between Joel leaning down on top of you and taking a grip of your hair in his hands, he presses the record button. The tiny ding sound shines a spotlight on you that lights your skin with nerves, a little bit of embarrassment, but…thrill. Excitement. Arousal.

Joel grinds his hips into yours and you both moan, your head falling back to allow him room to bruise your neck with his lips. His fingers knead roughly into the soft skin around your hips, pressing divots into your waist, sneaking their way up to cup your tits.

And then you’re turning, craning your neck to watch yourselves on his phone screen. Joel’s lips on your neck, his hands beneath your shirt.

He lifts his jaw for two seconds, coming up for breath and noticing your gaze.

“You wanna watch it, baby?”

You laugh in response, nodding when he turns your jaw to look at him.

In two seconds, you’re on your front, flipped by Joel’s hands. He takes your hips and lifts them, lining them with his own. You cross your arms and rest your chin atop them, watching in the reflected image as he slips his tee over his head and pulls your ass back to meet his stiff crotch.

Both of your heads are just cut out of shot. Yours at the left-hand side of the screen, and Joel’s at the top. The only recognizable traits are your hair and his beard. Those – and the sounds escaping your lips.

He wastes no time undressing you. Just lets your tee fall down your spine to your shoulders, pushes your panties to the side, and tugs his sweatpants low enough that he can comfortably slip inside you.

It’s sloppy. And quick. It barely lasts five minutes. As far as sex tapes go, it’s a pitiful attempt. But it’s hot – pretending that someone might fucking see it one day, see you and Joel, arguably doing what you do best.

And it’s even hotter seeing it from a different angle; feeling the stretch of him inside you, and watching it happen in real-time on his phone. Thinking of him rewatching it once the weekend’s over, his cock in his fist, shooting cum all over his belly.

Joel thrusts into you, pulling your ass back until you’re swallowing every inch of his cock. Your fists ball and you bite down on your arm to counter the shallow pain of him deep inside you, groaning with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispers from behind, slipping back only halfway and pushing in again.

You breathe a laugh, whispering, “Harder,” and he listens.

His hips crack against yours, a whimper calling from your lips, knees slipping further apart on the leather beneath you to accommodate the fucking size of him.

“Yeah? You want it harder, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine, bottom lip between your teeth.

He picks up the pace, pushing deeper every time your ass comes into contact with his hips. His skin slaps against yours, squeals of delight and pleasure cutting from your throat with each movement he makes.

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers run quick circles over your clit.

“Good girl,” he grits, “make yourself feel good, baby.”

You whine his name, forehead flat against the couch cushion as he fucks you, pleasure building between your legs like a tornado, tightening, tightening, tightening.

And then you’re being hauled up from the couch, flat against Joel’s body, cock still buried deep inside you. His hand replaces yours, his fingers on your clit, rubbing faster and harder than you think you can take.

He’s whispering in your ear like he always does. Saying everything he knows you like to hear. You’re a good girl, you’re his girl, you’re taking him so well. It’s desperate, and messy, and you know you’re both just racing to the finish line, aching for the relief that only you two know how to bring to one another.

And you cum, hard, fighting against his hold in a desperate attempt to fall flat against the couch. Joel keeps you upright, fingers slowing on your aching cunt as you clench and squeeze his cock, your orgasm ripping through your body.

He lets go of you, settling you on all fours in front of him before he pulls out, spilling all over your back.

You sink lower, ass still in the air, tits pressed against the cool leather of the couch as his warm cum slowly trickles down your spine.

Joel groans, a deep, guttural groan, still holding his cock between your ass cheeks as he stills, watching every rope of cum coating your back.

You catch your breath, panting mixed with laughing, and turn, rolling over and staring up at him. He leans back over, grabs the phone, and stops recording.

“Fuck…” you breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel agrees.

You laugh again, the last of your energy going into taking his shoulder and pulling him down against your body as he examines the footage. Tender kisses along his neck, dipping between his collarbones, listening to the grunts and groans from the speaker by your ear.

“Jesus, darlin’,” Joel breathes, eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re a fuckin’ mess.”

Your head tilts back with laughter, and Joel’s lips ghost across your throat. “We are not,” you finally reply, taking hold of the phone and scrolling quickly through the video. “I liked that part,” you turn it to show him your bodies held to one another by Joel’s strong arms.

“Yeah?” he asks behind a chuckle. Then he takes the phone from your hands, locks it, and tosses it to the other side of the couch, pulling you up into his arms until you’re sat on his lap, noses brushing against one another. “I liked all of it.”

“I like all of you,” you say, and he presses his lips to yours.

Joel kisses you gently, running his hands under your shirt and across your back, still covered in his release. He presses you closer to his body, almost painfully, as if the cotton of your shirt, the skin of your bodies, the cages of ribs inside are all keeping you too far apart from him.

You pull your jaw from his, run two delicate fingers across his lips.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, cowboy,” you whisper.

----------

Joel carries you to his room just after midnight – sun-kissed, chlorine-coated, fucked-out, exhausted. He slips into bed behind you, curling his body around your frame, and, when his leg lifts to slot between yours, your hand stops it.

“No?” he asks, head lifting.

“Don’t want your thigh,” you mumble.

“How come?”

“Want you to…want somethin’ else.”

Joel understands without another word. He kisses your shoulder once, then takes your hips in both hands and pulls your ass to his front. You feel him pull the elastic of his underwear, stroke himself a couple times, and then push his tip in.

You gasp when he enters you – half-hard, slow, but even still. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him filling you, of his body connecting with yours, of him knowing and feeling you this intimately. Knowing and feeling you more intimately than anyone in your life ever has. Ever will, maybe.

When you’re full of him, he steadies. You scoot your hips back a little, and he growls in your ear.

“Careful, pretty girl.”

“Just gettin’ comfy,” you sleepily sing, almost teasingly.

He snakes one arm under your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his elbow. The other lies lazily over your waist. A satisfied sigh runs from his lips past your ear. He sounds and feels the most relaxed you’ve ever known him to be.

And you wish you could say the same.

Your eyes close over, heavy and tired, but you don’t fall asleep as quick as Joel. Something’s tugging at your heart. Something solid, that drags it down to the bottom of your stomach, and pools like ice water there. Something that nips at your lungs, stealing breath from you whenever you think too hard about it.

Something you’ve been patting down, stamping out with your foot every time the flame relights. And suddenly it feels as though the entire room just caught fire from under you.

Sheer exhaustion sends you off to sleep, with dreams of conversations and confessions you’re sure would never happen. Could never happen.

Should. Never. Happen.

----------

Warm water pours down over you, soaking your hair and chasing down your shoulders, your arms, past your breasts and over your stomach. You grab some more of the shampoo you’d stolen from Sarah’s bathroom and lather it up, covering your hair in it and drowning yourself under the water again.

Joel’s bathroom is one of three in his house; Sarah’s is slightly roomier, and the guest bathroom has the best water pressure, but you don’t care. Something inside you goes wild knowing you’re naked and washing in Joel Miller’s shower, even though you two have been fooling around for almost a month now.

You’re busy relishing over how perfect the last couple of days have been, wondering what breakfast Joel’s cooking up downstairs when the bathroom door bursts open.

“Hey,” he says, pulling on the shower door. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, eyes screwed shut, hair covered in soapy bubbles.

“I said get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

Joel reaches around you and hands you a towel as he pulls you out of the cubicle and quickly wrings your hair for you. In a daze, you throw his tee over your shoulders and take his hand, following him out of the shower room and across his bedroom to the closet.

He turns you, hands tight on your shoulders, and ushers you inside.

“What’s he doin–?”

“I got a leaking pipe. He was passin’ by, dropped in to take a look. You stay here, do not make a sound, you hear?”

He closes over the slatted door gently, and you peer through the wood with narrow eyes. You hear footsteps approaching, your dad’s unmistakable chortle as the bedroom door is pushed open again and Joel shows him to the leaking pipe.

“Somewhere under there,” he mutters, hands resting on his knees to point to the space underneath his sink. “Had a look myself, tried some stuff, but it ain’t for fixin’.”

“Let’s have a look,” your dad bends down, groaning when his bad knees reach the tile. He’s almost shoulder deep under Joel’s cabinet, flashlight on, when Joel steals a glance in your direction.

He shakes his head, holding a hand up. Stay quiet.

He gives the room a quick scan, frantic eyes searching for any evidence of your being there. He swivels on the spot, twisting behind himself, noticing your cell on the nightstand at the same time you do.

Joel leans back, feet still rooted to the carpet, and fishes the phone between two fingers, slipping it into his back pocket. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Ah!” your dad exclaims, and Joel shoots straight back around. “It’s your trap.”

“Is that right? I had a look at it.”

“Mhm. Is your eyesight failin’? Look at this, son.” Your dad’s hand reaches blindly behind him into his toolbox and grabs a wrench. “Just the joint’s loose.”

Joel grumbles in response.

You hear the squeak of metal as your dad tightens the pipe and then the clank of his wrench being thrown back into his toolbox. With maximum effort – thanks to his bad joints – he straightens back up alongside Joel, who thanks him.

“Better be the last of my issues.”

“Ha! So little faith in me, ol’ boy. Anyway. I’ll get out of your hair. That’s a mighty good smell comin’ from your kitchen, don’t wanna hold you back from enjoying it.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Joel says, and you can see him trying to usher your dad out.

But your dad, though you love him, is kinda fuckin’ annoying.

“Anyone special?”

“Huh?”

“You, cookin’? Naw. ‘s gotta be for someone good. Anyone comin’ over for a breakfast date? A…receptionist from a plant hire, perhaps?”

Joel’s eyes squint as he looks your dad up and down, taking his bottom lip under his teeth. “Nope,” he grumbles after a beat, with one shake of his head.

Your dad laughs a little, and then looks to something behind Joel’s back.

“Nice hat,” he scoffs, pointing a finger.

Joel doesn’t reply for a few seconds. You know he’s having the same realization you’re having: your cowgirl hat is hooked over the corner of his headboard.

He laughs. Nervously. Though maybe only you can hear that.

“Yeah, uh…yeah.”

“Looks a hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, sensing the same accusatory tone you do. Your forehead falls into your palm, hearing the almost pissed-off tone in which he asks, “And what would your daughter’s hat be doin’ in my bedroom?”

For fuck’s sake, Joel. Subtle, much?

“No, no,” your dad’s almost protesting, “I ain’t meanin’…” He sighs. “You know what I meant. Alright, I’m gone. I’m outta your hair.”

His boots recede down the hallway, then downstairs. Your breath doesn’t come back until you hear his car door slam shut, and the tires drive off.

When Joel pulls the closet door back, you’re still stood, towel in your hair, head in your hands. You can’t even look at him.

He doesn’t say anything like you expect him to. No, Sorry, baby, I didn’t know he was comin’. No, Come get breakfast, I’ll make it up to you.

He just wanders off back downstairs, leaving you to get dressed by yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s plating up pancakes and drizzling them in syrup just the way you like. You pass him and run a hand over his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

When you sit at the table, he puts the plate down in front of you. Silently. Then sits across from you.

You watch his every move. He picks up his knife and fork, and begins cutting into his own breakfast. Staring down at the plate. Then out of the kitchen window to the backyard. Then back to the plate.

You give his calf a light kick under the table, and his eyes lift, but only to your plate.

“You gonna eat?” he asks. Toneless. Less emotion than he talked to your dad with.

Without a word, you pick up your cutlery and start on your own pancakes, though your appetite suddenly disappears.

He made them with banana – your favorite – but the way he’s being with you right now, they taste sour and dry. You chew your way through as much as you can until you’re staring him down, desperate for him to –

“Would you just say somethin’?”

He looks up. Finally looks you in the eye. “What?”

“Say something. Get mad. Yell at me or something, I dunno.”

“Why would I yell at you?” He plants his fork into a scrap of pancake and drags his knife alongside it.

“I mean, you seem pretty mad right now.”

“I ain’t gonna yell at you.”

“But you are mad?”

Joel doesn’t reply. He leans to one side, fishes in his back pocket for something, then slides your cell across the wooden table toward you. He nods down at it, and you click to unlock it.

Dad: Hey, I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

Dad: If your slumber party’s over, that is

He sent them an hour ago. If you’d fucking looked, you’d have known.

“Fuck…” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, jaw chewing, “fuck.”

“He didn’t– I mean, he didn’t see me, though. Right?”

“He saw your hat.”

You lean back in your chair, cutlery clattering against your plate. “He didn’t know it was mine.” A smile forms on your lips, you can’t help it, but it quickly vanishes when Joel’s tone doesn’t shift. Not even a note.

“And how do I know he ain’t drive by your car on his way?”

“Aw, c’mon, man, I’m parked, like, four streets away.”

Joel shakes his head, eyebrows arched. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispers.

“Uh, okay. Thanks. Jeez.” You fold your arms and glare out to the backyard, face beginning to heat. Eyes beginning to sting. Joel’s never like this with you. Never mad, never disappointed. Never makes you feel like a kid being told off.

“I mean, your bikini’s hangin’ up out there,” he points his fork toward the backyard, “and ain’t your bag sat in my hallway? How in the hell he didn’t see that, I have no idea.”

“But he obviously didn’t, so what’s the big deal? It’s only a black tote, it could’ve been anyone’s.”

“The big deal is that he could’ve seen it, baby! And it’s not just anyone’s, is it? It’s his daughter’s.”

And the thing is – he’s not even wrong. You can’t argue back much, ‘cause you know as well as he does that everything he’s saying is true. It’s valid. Your dad would’ve walked right by that bag – twice. The same bag he saw you hook over your shoulder right before you kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room.

This whole time, you’ve been dancing on a knife edge. Waiting to be caught. You came too close this time, and Joel tells you as much.

“Alright, well, what do you want me to do? I can’t go back in time and move the damn bag. I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t fucking mean to let him see–”

“That’s not the point,” he interjects, which is another thing Joel rarely does.

This whole argument is something Joel – something you rarely do. The two of you. The last time you saw him this animated, this angry over something, it was Arthur Kennedy eyeing you up at the barbecue. And even that – that wasn’t directed at you. He wasn’t mad at you.

“Then what’s your point?” you ask, hands slapping down on the table.

“My point is – how many times are we gonna come within touching distance of someone finding out about this? If it wasn’t Hank almost finding us upstairs, it was your dad waltzing right in while I had you fuckin’– while I was…” He sighs, and then throws his cutlery down onto his plate.

Your head drops, thinking back to the seconds of panic between your dad opening your front door and him seeing you two, an awkward, guilty distance apart. Your shorts under the couch. Your wet on Joel’s fingers.

Joel’s kitchen table blurs in and out of focus, tears swimming across your eyes. You rapidly blink them away, but they’re forming quicker than you can rid yourself of them. When he speaks again, you can’t look at him.

“Look,” he runs an almost trembling hand through his hair, rising from the table, “I gotta go. I got some things I need to do today.”

You stand to height opposite him. “You…gotta go? Right now?”

“Yes, darlin’. I got work stuff to see to.”

“Right. Sure.” You lift your plate, turning away, and hear him sigh.

“I’ll only be a couple hours. We’ll talk more when I’m back.”

You spin then, pursing your lips. “So, I’m to wait here for you? That what you’re sayin’?”

Joel’s already picking up his keys. “No…If you wanna go, you can go. Just…if you wanna talk, then stay. We’ll talk.”

You look up at him, no more words coming to the surface to say. He moves a lock of hair from your face, and heads for the door.

Wait here for him. What a fuckin’ joke.

Still, that’s exactly what you do.

You throw yourself down on his couch, flick on his TV. Put on another episode of Love Island. Think over which boy you’d pick, then decide it’d be none of them, and wonder why the hell you’re watching it in the first place.

You wander upstairs to his room. Sift through the shirts hanging in his closet – all different variations and prints of flannel because it’s Joel fucking Miller. Pull the sleeves to your nose, breathe in the smell of him. The sweet, sandalwood smell that wraps over you like a warm blanket; comforting, calming. Fix the pillows on his bed, punch out the lumps where you lay huddled against him last night, his body against – and inside – yours.

You feel hot with anger. Frustration. A little bit of guilt. It sits heavy on your head, drips down to your stomach, swirls around and mixes with the anxiety already in there. If he’d just come home, you could argue it out. Force whatever he really wants to say out of his mouth. Say a few things of your own back to him.

You never fight. It’s the one thing – you never fight. You bicker, you toss back and forth. You piss him off and he shuts you up with his words, or his lips, or with more. But you never really fight.

It’s like something’s different. As if something’s changed, right from under your feet.

Joel comes home two hours later. Lets the door shudder closed behind him, sighs as he kicks his boots off. You’re still upstairs in his room, perched on his side of the bed reading some stupid book on Alcatraz you found in a drawer.

“Baby?” he calls, and you don’t reply. You’ve little right to be as mad as you are, but he can search for you for a minute as reparation for walking out earlier.

“Hey…” he whispers when he pushes the door open, spotting you with the book resting on your thighs. “Alcatraz, huh?”

“It ain’t that good,” you huff, slamming it shut and sliding it across the nightstand.

He breathes a Hmph, then sweeps around the bed. Like he’s scared to make a sound. Like he’s trying not to be noticed. When he reaches you, he sinks into the mattress at your feet, elbow resting on your knees.

“We gotta talk.”

Do I want to hear this? you ask him with your eyes.

He sucks a deep, unsteady breath in, and his brows furrow. He sighs again.

And you know what he’s about to say.

“This…We’ve pushed this too far, now. We’re way beyond reining this in.”

You stare at his lips. Waiting for them to offer something more. When they fall silent, your gaze trails up the shape of his nose, curving around his brows and then finally falling onto his eyes. They reveal all you need to know.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re not serious, right? Joel.”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a bag?”

“Not because of a bag.” He looks you in the eye and shakes his head, whispers your name., then, “…because of the lying.”

“It’s never been a problem up until now.”

“It’s never been as bad as now. You ain’t been home in almost two days. Your dad has no idea where you are.”

“I’m not in danger, Joel.”

“You think he’d be happy? If he knew where you were really at right now? Knew you’d lied to his face this entire weekend?”

You sink back against the headboard, defeated. Desperately trying to find another way through what he’s saying. “What, then? What do we do? Come clean?”

He almost fucking laughs. Plays it off by pushing the air from his cheeks. “No. I don’t think we should…No.”

You shrug. “Then, tell me. Just fucking say it.”

Joel shakes his head, holds his hands out. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’m breakin’ this off outta the blue, baby. Like it’s comin’ outta left field.”

“So you’re breaking it off?”

“No, I’m– It’s not– I don’t…” He sighs, fingers pressing into his eyes.

You stand up, towering over him, silhouetted by the window behind you. “Just – fucking – say it. End it. I’ll go.”

“That’s not what I’m tryna do, kid.”

“What are you tryna do, then? There are two of us in this, Joel. You’ve been lying just as much as I have.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he hisses, standing up until you’re chest to chest, inches apart from one another. “Jesus, kid. I’m checking myself every fuckin’ conversation I have with your dad. Makin’ sure nothin’ I say will clue him in. Makin’ sure I don’t accidentally let slip what the hell’s been goin’ on!”

“I’ve been doin’ the same!” you yell back. “It ain’t just you, Joel, but that doesn’t seem to mean nothin’ to you!”

“Mean nothin’,” he repeats with a laugh, turning away and running his hands through his hair. “You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

He falls silent. His lips pull into a frown. He backs off.

Downstairs, his phone starts ringing. He glances to the doorway, shifts between his feet.

“You don’t get to do this, you know,” your voice trembles, “you don’t get to pull me in and then just drop me when it becomes inconvenient. Once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.” Joel’s voice cuts like glass. “Don’t.”

You step back. Stare him down, try to make him say something. Try to make him do something. Your hands are on his biceps, eyes boring into his, swelling with tears you’re trying desperately to hold back.

Nothing. Not a word.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper.

Joel takes a deep breath, his eyes flicker across your lips just for a second. He looks sad, eyes glassy, lines around his eyes where his eyebrows meet. But they tell you nothing.

His phone’s still ringing out, echoing through the silent house like an alarm bell.

You look at him blankly now. “Phone’s ringin’, Joel.”

He says nothing back, just looks at you from under his low brows.

You back out of his bedroom, shaking your head and stumbling a little over thin air. You’re staring at each other; you, trying to work out who the man is standing in front of you, and Joel, trying to plead with you to hear him out.

When you reach the threshold, you turn as if to run.

“Darlin’, come back. Hey.”

He follows you into the hallway and you feel his hand around your wrist. You whip it to your chest and turn to face him.

“Darlin’? Not your darlin’ anymore, am I? ’m just some girl you were fucking for a month.”

“C’mon, now, you know that’s not true.”

You lead downstairs, shoes thudding as you go. Joel’s right behind you, trying any combination of words to slow you down, make you look at him, stop for five seconds.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your arm swoops down to grab your bag, and as you straighten up, Joel’s ringtone cuts and his machine beeps.

“Hey, Joel,” a woman’s voice fills the space between you both. Your head whips around to stare at the machine.

“It’s Lois. I was just callin’ to…to check in. It was really nice seein’ you today. Give me a call when you can, okay?”

The voicemail cuts and the two of you are plunged back into silence. Silence, save for the heaving of your breath. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart ready to burst through it. You haven’t taken your eyes off of the machine, red light blinking menacingly.

Joel lifts his hands. “That is not…It’s not what it sounds like…” he says, slowly, calmly. Quiet. Like you’ve never heard him speak before. Not We’re about to be caught quiet. Not even Quit arguin’ back quiet.

This is desperate quiet. And desperate’s not something you’ve ever heard pass Joel’s lips.

Your whole body is shaking, and you’re not sure whether it’s from adrenaline, or fear, or hurt, or pain. It takes most of the life inside you just for your lungs to open and close. You can’t fucking look at him. You can’t – fuck, you can’t even look in his direction.

You turn slowly toward the front door. You unlock it in a daze, and pull on the handle. The heat from outside hits you like you’ve opened an oven door.

“Baby…” Joel whispers.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #cowboy like me #smut #fluff #angst

[djdangerlove]

It would be so funny if after their first little lover’s spat (that in the grand scheme of things is so unserious but Buck spirals about it), Buck gifts Tommy Taylor Kelly’s book with a little sticky note inside on chapter 6 that reads: This is what you’re in for. She’s talking about me. :/ But then Tommy shows up at the loft because “mmm so that’s not how my opinion works- you can’t just tell me to read some trash book and judge you for it”.

#the only acceptable reason she should be brought again in canon tbh 😂 #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #anti taylor kelly #911 abc

[luulapants]

Where Illinois politicians stand on Palestine

I sent a letter to Senator Tammy Duckworth today. Illinois is a solidly blue state, and I've dutifully voted blue no matter who since I started voting. Droves of people here have been writing to her and our Congressional Representatives, begging them to support a ceasefire, and all we will get back is a canned party-line response about Israel's right to "self defense" and the need to eradicate Hamas.

They are able to do this, to disregard the outrage of their constituency, because they feel certain that no matter how many letters we send, we will show up and vote for them when the time comes. They are certain their actions have no consequences, and even if they did, they would tell us that it's all our fault for failing in our democratic duty to vote.

Senator Dick Durban received about $154.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Senator Tammy Duckworth received over $212k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

In my letter, I told her that I could not see pictures of dead Palestinian babies and turn around and vote for someone, like her, who had their blood on her hands. I told her that "vote blue" cannot extend to genocide. My ethics do not stretch this far.

14/17 representatives for the state of Illinois are Democrats. Of these, only 5 have called for ceasefire.

Jonathan Jackson: $3k from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Robin Kelly: $21.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

Delia Ramirez: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew she could not be bought.

Jesus "Chuy" Garcia: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew he could not be bought.

Mike Quigley: $43.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Sean Casten: $61.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Danny Davis: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. Yet he refuses to call for ceasefire. You can have his cowardice for free.

Raja Krishnamoorthi: $61.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Jan Schakowsky: $58.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Brad Schneider: $54k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Bill Foster: $65.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Mike Bost is a Republican. $14.5k and obviously no ceasefire talk. He will not be moved.

Nikki Budzinski: $25.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

Lauren Underwood: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew she could not be bought.

Mary Miller is a Republican. $0 - they don't even have to pay her to toe the party line. She will not be moved.

Darin LaHood is a Republican. $27.5k and obviously no ceasefire talk. He will not be moved.

Eric Sorenson: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. Yet he refuses to call for ceasefire. You can have his cowardice for free.

The Republicans will be trash regardless, but we cannot let our Democrats skate by thinking there are no consequences for supporting a genocide. They are slaughtering people with your tax dollars, Americans. It's time to get serious. It's time to tell these people that they cannot have our votes for free. It's time to start talking about primary opposition and third party voting. It's time to start exercising our power as voting citizens.

#political action #us politics #palestine #illinois #illinois politics #tammy duckworth

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Matt Casey x reader

Casey and his wife are expecting there second child, they have been married for three years. Y/n are working at the same firehouse as Casey but she is the paramedic for Ambo 61 and partner with Brett.

Gabby Dawson is still working at firehouse 51 but as a firefighter for truck 81. Y/n and gabby used to be partners for Ambo 61, they two are best friends.

Casey are really nervous to become a father to two kids, they already has a boy who is a toddler now and they are expecting a baby girl.

When Casey and y/n were expecting there boy they wasn’t together or married, but they got together when he was born. But they used to be a couple before there boy was conceived, but work got in the way.

Casey is really nervous, and the only one that he have told is Severide and Dawson. But Y/n finds out about how Casey feel about having a second child. Y/n gets mad at Casey for not telling her and they starts to fight. Even if they both know that they want to have another baby and to give there boy a sibling.

Scared- Matt Casey

Other Characters: Kelly Severide, Gabby Dawson, Sylvie Brett

Summary: Loosely based off of the prompt above, once the fight between you and Matt break out, you almost faint, causing everyone to rush to your aid.

Warnings: Mentions vomiting/morning sickness, dehydration, loose and possible wrong medical terminology.

Y/s/n = your son’s name.

Authors note: sorry I haven’t posted in a while! It’s been crazy and I’m not doing great in any capacity, but I’ve been trying to get something out and also trying to do your requests. I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you for your patience and support! Love y’all!

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Matt have been married for three years. Despite once being in a relationship with Matt, you quickly befriended Gabby when you were her partner on 61. Now, Gabby is a firefighter under Matt and you are partnered up with Brett. Through all of the awkward moments between you and Gabby when it comes to Matt, you are still best friends. Gabby was one of your biggest supporters when you were pregnant with y/s/n. You and Matt had recently broken it off because of his alderman duties when you started getting violently sick. As your roommate and fellow paramedic, Gabby was obviously very concerned until she connected the dots.

Now, a little over three years later, you and Matt are married with a baby girl on the way. The morning sickness has definitely been the worst during this pregnancy, but Matt, Gabby, Kelly, Brett, and Stella have been nothing but supportive. As of right now, you are laying in Matt’s office with a trash can by his cot while Brett and Gabby are trying to calm you down as Matt rushes around to grab a few things. Kelly finds Matt pacing in the locker room, running his hands through his hair.

“Woah man. What’s wrong?” Kelly asks, coming to stop Matt and try to calm his best friend.

“God Sev.” Matt mutters, tears threatening to spill. “She is just so sick and I hate seeing her like this. I mean, I was talking to Gabby the other day and I don’t know.” Matt said, shaking his head and lowering himself to a seat on one of the benches.

Kelly sighed as he lowered himself to the bench beside his best friend. “You don’t have to be afraid Matt. You are already such a good husband and father. Adding one more will be a piece of cake.” Kelly soothed, patting Matt on the back.

Matt shook his head. “I never really had a father figure growing up. I’m scared I’m going to mess up and they are going to leave. Gabby tried to talk me down too and nothing…”

“Excuse me?” You croaked, leaning heavily on Brett as she helped steady you on the way to the bathroom while Gabby stayed behind to change Matt’s sheets.

“Y/n.” Matt sighed, standing slowly and coming over to you.

“No. You talked to Gabby and Kelly, but not your own wife? The mother of your TWO children!” You exclaimed, starting to shake as you began to yell.

“Baby. It’s not like that at all.” Matt plead, hands out to steady you, but you tumbled back, only being caught by Brett.

“You don’t get to be scared Matt Casey.” You whispered. “You and I are suppose to be in this together. I’m terrified every single moment since I’ve been pregnant. You know I have a fear of vomiting, yet I go through this because I love you and I love y/s/n and I want him to have a sibling.” You wept, closing your eyes as the world stared to tilt.

“Y/n!” Matt, Kelly, and Brett yelled.

You pushed back at Matt when he tried to touch you, letting Brett and Kelly lower you to the floor.

“Go get a sick bag, a water, and Gabby. Have her bring the go bag.” Brett said, feeling for your pulse.

“Shhhh. Breathe.” Kelly instructed, taking your face in his hands. “Everything will be just fine.”

“What if he leaves?” You sobbed, grabbing onto Kelly for dear life. “I need him. I’m just really hurt that he won’t talk to me but I need him.” You sobbed, not realizing that Matt was standing behind the three of you as he waited for Gabby clutching a sick bag and a bottle of water.

“Baby, no.” Matt whispered, coming to crouch in front of you, handing what he had off to Kelly. “Yeah, I’m scared and yes, I should have talked to you. But understand this: I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere.” Matt emphasized, looking you dead in the eyes. “Both Gabby and Kelly found me in a panic and that’s why I told them. You are dealing with so much right now and I don’t want you to worry about me too.” Matt explained, wiping the tears from your face as Gabby came in with the go bag, slipping the pulse ox on your finger and the BP cuff on.

“How we doin?” Gabby asked, seeing your heart rate elevated and your oxygen levels at 95.

“Nauseous and dizzy.” You explained, leaning into Matt’s hands as he held your face.

“BP’s low.” Brett announced, grabbing the Iv kit from the bag. “I think you’ve got yourself dehydrated. I’m going to place a line.” Brett said, already prepping your arm.

Your eyes widened as you looked between all of your friends and your husband. “No way. Nope.” You said, trying to stand, but quickly falling back down into Kelly with Matt guiding your decent.

“You aren’t going anywhere. Relax.” Kelly said, squeezing your upper arms.

“Matt, please.” You begged, tears streaming down your face. You were starting to turn grey as the nausea built along with your anxiety.

“Shhh. It’s gonna be alright.” Matt soothed, kissing your forehead before turning to Kelly. “Switch with me. Let me hold her, it normally calms her down. Get the sick bag ready.” Matt instructed, quickly switching with Kelly as the man did what he was instructed to do. Matt sat with you in between his legs so that your back was pushed to his chest. He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear. “Shhhh. It’s for the best. I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ve got you.” Matt whispered as you began hyperventilating from the panic of the rising nausea and the impending IV.

“Look at me. Just look at me.” Kelly said, kneeling in your line of sight. He waited until you opened your eyes to meet his own. Kelly smiled at you as he started breathing in time with Matt. “Just relax. We gotcha. We gotta do what’s best for you and the little princess, right?” Kelly said, smiling wider when you nodded. “That’s right. Just breathe. Follow us and focus on us.” Kelly instructed.

Matt noticed you starting to follow, but saw Brett going in with the needle. Matt and Kelly made eye contact as the needle pinched your skin. Kelly saw your change in color as Matt felt your gasp and then gag harshly.

“Shit. Okay, here sweetheart. Hang in there.” Kelly said, placing the bag under your chin as Matt pulled your hair back once more and held you steady around the torso.

“I’m gonna flush this, then give her some Zofran. We gotta get this under control. You cool with that and then some fluids for her Matt?” Brett asked, flushing the IV as she spoke.

“God yes. Whatever you have to do.” Matt instructed, hating how you were squirming and panting in his lap. You shook like a leaf as Matt held you on the cold tile floor.

“Gabby. Can you run and grab a blanket and a wash rag? She’s shaking like a leaf.” Kelly asked, not daring to move the sick bag too far. You were only panting right now, but you had no color to your face.

“On it!” Gabby replied, hurrying off.

“Alright. You know this might sting just a little. Then I’m gonna flush it and then run the fluids, okay?” Brett warned, speaking directly to you now. Once you nodded, Brett administered the medication and did everything else she said she would do before standing up with the bag of saline.

Gabby came running back in as Brett stood up. You were still shaking, but you felt comfortable enough to push the sick bag away. Once Gabby helped you clean your face and wiped the sweat off of your face, she wrapped the blanket around you. A silent decision was made to move you, so Kelly pulled you up and steadied you until Matt stood back up and picked you up, carrying you back into his office.

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Can someone PLEASE get me some mouth wash or my tooth brush. I can’t take this taste anymore.” You whined, shoving your face into Matt’s neck as he sat with you in his lap on his cot.

You didn’t notice Kelly depart from you guys as the lot of you left for Matt’s office. He came back in seconds later with mouth wash, your tooth brush and tooth paste, another bottle of water and another sick bag. “I figured you would want to get the taste out.” Kelly said, confused at the laughter coming from everyone else.

“Thank God. Someone with some sense.” You muttered sarcastically, making grabby hands for the items.

Matt and Gabby muttered “I beg to differ” at the same time, causing everyone to laugh. God, you couldn’t do this without them.

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #fluff #matt casey x reader #comfort #emeto fic #morning sickness #gabby dawson #sylvie brett

[imzsuzsis-blog]

"On behalf of my family, Lando Norris, I'm asking for the full truth now!" I stood behind him while he threw himself into the bin, because sightseeing was the obligatory program today and this was the third bin he threw into. "I'm saying that I'm not pregnant with some kind of virus. You're just imagining it, I won't deny that. That I'm gay and that Ollie and I had a rough time, but we're still a couple." I smiled back at Alex and shoved the test back into my belt pouch. Don't let him see that I lied to him. "Shit, did you see Lando?" George became serious and became engaged to his girlfriend." "What were you gossiping about?" "Congratulations, man, that's a big word." "Thanks, Lando, when did you tell our little three that you were probably pregnant?" "Lando, I told you that's what you said yesterday in Swedish, you flat idiot!!!" "It's good that I'm pregnant from Ollie, but the breakup was very rough, the boys don't want to talk about it, let's sit down somewhere and celebrate the engagement."

"I'm a fool, I let the boy I love go." I twirled the racket and at least tried not to throw it, but once I almost managed to hit Logan in the face. "Ugh, I'm sorry, my thoughts wandered somewhere else." "Paul is your boyfriend, that is, the one with whom you made the news." "Logan, it's not true, you made this up and you spread or spread the rumor about me, it's not false." ,.I have no relations with the f2 field, they said that you were dating him and he was quite angry about the kiss, who did it happen to?" "Fuck you that me and Lando kissed, you fucking have nothing to do with it, you Florida bastard!!!!" I ran out in anger, laid down on the floor and could hardly breathe. Logan freaked me out, he's the gossiper, but I really can't stand it in that field. "Paul pick it up!!!!"

In front of the cattle, I was in the hotel room and I was video chatting with my girlfriend who was there with Bali Carlos's girlfriend and they say that they really like each other... They can't stand each other. Apparently, one of the queens of OnlyFans reached out to Carlos. He is already sick of this app, as are many of us in the field, especially Lando or Alex, although Lando tried it, but he thinks there are so many whores and cock-hanging him prostists up there that he deleted it, so he doesn't date here if he wants someone for himself, he also tried the apps, but they failed miserably there more than once he walked out of the date himself, the subject wanted to kidnap him and drag him out to make him a prostitute, but he was also transgender, he keeps in touch with him to this day, but unfortunately most of them were whores who only wanted Lando's money, so that's all about Tinder. "Sorry, but that was really optional." "Charles can't go without throwing up." "I'll leave you... Calm down, Lando, it will definitely be over one day, don't worry about it too much." "That's not the problem, but Kelly, you know. DR Yin said she started to worry if I didn't only have acne in the morning anymore. Now it's half past two and I've been throwing up for half the day and I don't even know how many Tokyo trash cans are full of what I had for breakfast today." "Fuck it, I'll call the ambulance then, it's bad, not only your health is important now, but the health of the people inside is even more important!!!"

In the hospital, I didn't even understand what the doctor was talking about. I looked at her, then at Charles, who was shrugging because I think he thought the same thing as me, he thought I was pregnant by him. We started pointing out that no, I am not from him, but from another boy who is younger than me. I felt that someone other than Charles would hold my shoulder and bring me heart trouble. "My mother Loki, the heartache that hit me was terrifying." ,,Lando will say hello if we already dated yesterday..." ,,Hi, I've only vomited for almost half a day, you poor trash, and you know I'm afraid that my beans will hurt. I'm about five weeks pregnant, but that's not fixed either." "Thank you, he said that he can tell you at any time that you are seven weeks old, not five." ,,MR Norris calm down, thanks for the information about you now deep air guys from outside..." I looked at him, I couldn't believe it. "Fetus, fetus?" "Tears of joy or sorrow?" "Ecstasy is more there, my little one." "Look at one there and the other there, but wait with him if it doesn't get absorbed by the twins, but it seems to me that it won't." I held my face at the news, my brain couldn't place the news, it was good and bad. "Do you hear?" "Yes, I can hear their tiny heartbeats." I wanted to go out and nyakuba fell over, but I didn't go, I took the little rest I had, I saw how he was wiping the jelly from my stomach, I stood up, took everything and went out. "Why did you send us out?" Silnetly fell to the necks with a tearful face, I couldn't say what to say, "Gemini, now the other is not willing to give up."

#fanfic #lando norris #gay #george russell #alex albon #biseuxal #osc #f1 #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #cute #japan travel #logan sargeant #carlos sainz #pregnant #tokio hotel #loki #loki laufeyson #landoscar #gayboy #boy love #lgbtq #gay couple #Spotify

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Angela The episode's going to end with a callback to something we forgot to mention, which is earlier in the episode, Ryan says that he wrote Kelly the best poem ever. 

Jenna Mm hmm. 

Angela And Pam's like, Read it, please. He's like, No, it would crush you. You couldn't even handle it. And everyone's like, kind of egging him on to read it, and he won't read it. 

Jenna Mm hmm. 

Angela Well, Pam finds it in the trash, and Jim's like, What are you doing? She's like, Don't you want to hear this poem? And they start to read it. 

Jenna Yeah, they read the first two lines. 

Angela Yeah, it starts like this: Kapoor and kadesperate, he watches. He is a drifter out to sea. 

Jenna And then there's kind of a time cut. 

Angela Yeah. 

Jenna And we hear the last line of the poem. 

Angela And when the Indian Ocean calms, one speck of white remains in waters cold and Kelly Green. 

Jenna Pam is choked up. 

Angela Yeah. She's like, It's so dumb. But when he describes himself as a child lost on a life raft. And then Jim is teary! 

Jenna In his final talking head, he says, Ryan can never know. 

Angela This poem really got them. 

Jenna We had a fan question from Angela F in Saint Louis wondering if there was a full length version of Ryan's poem. Angela, I'm sorry. No. 

Angela I looked for it too. 

Jenna I know. 

Angela I was so hoping there was something in the candy bag. Anything? No. 

Jenna This is all will ever know of the poem. 

Angela Yeah. 

Jenna That moved Jim and Pam to tears. 

#the office ladies #have i mentioned i love having the dvds #because i love having the dvds #haha #extended cut #jim x pam #jim and pam #love #jim halpert #pam beasley #john krasinski #jenna fischer #the office #the office edit #the office edits #theoffice #theofficeedit #theofficeedits #gif #gifs #gifset

[maxverstepponme]

Ok i caught up what is happening. So here is some help.

We accuse kelly of being a groomer, a horrible mother, an attention seeker, hypocritical and fake activist.

Here is the response to why we accuse he of that.

She admitted to having a magical night with a teenage Max. Let me remind you that 18 being considered legal age is because of the army draft and has nothing to do with maturity. In reality, a 20 year old should be considered an adult. Anything below is a teen (literally). Let me also remind you that Max just moved out of his dads house and to monaco when he turned 18, so he was freshly on his own.

We have proof she spoke to underage fans on insta and has talked to them about her life with Max and would give them a heads up about boosting her posts.

She posted her kid naked online. That is enough to be a horrible mother, but let's continue. She left her kid to go party, and she trashed her kids' dad and spread shit about him (with the help of her underage fans), dragged her kid halfway across the world so she could have a "happy family" pic with Max. Pushed that kid onto a 22 year old not knowing how their relationship would work out. Finally, she has no regard for her kids' privacy and uses her to boost her engagement on insta.

She literally called paparazzi on herself. Do i need to say more.

Posted criticising consumerism and black friday to then literally tomorrow go on a shopping spree. Talked about the safety of children in cars (did a presentation on it) while her kid is jumping and standing on the seats of a moving cab in NYC. Talked about the environment just to than spend one of her many vacations on a yacht wearing a different bikini every day, let's not start with her selling over 200 pieces of clothing because that is so environmentally friendly and is not consumerism.

She posted about Palestine and mixed in adds in those stories. "Look at all that is happening there, but also look at my new shoes"

Let's not start with her defending racism, being xenophobic, and quite literally supporting a fascist sexist criminal as a presidential candidate in a county that she doesn't even live in. Also she literally is promoting EDs and is selling her face as natural.

And i have missed a lot of her shit.

Sent this to that bs gossip page.

.

[dangancode]

An introduction post

Hello! My name is Kelly, and I use she/her pronouns. I made this side blog for Danganronpa and Rain Code stuff, such as reblogging fanart and posting my rewrite headcanons. If you’re looking to chat, you can find me here and on Discord (i’m tired #0644)!

#not dangan related #kelly talks trash

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Take it Out of My Chest

🩸 Previous Parts Here 🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warning: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heat, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, scared boys, asthma, MF being a meddling alpha, threats, Dom almost snapping, Collette being a saint, awkward boys, sweet kisses, teasing each other, back handing, blood, deep talks, Big Bad Things revealed, past SA, past miscarriage, terrible parents, past major abuse (seriously! Keep yourselves safe!), self hate, mentions of killing, past murder threats from family, pregnancy talks, terrified Kells, playful insults, body worship, trigger talks, boys getting naked, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: lets say explicit

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Dom could feel his asthma acting up as he ran back to the place his lover called home. His mate. His family. He made something pure from himself and he couldn't wrap his mind around it. He had an errant thought he hoped he didn't give his child his shite lungs but even that made him smile. He made a baby. With Colson. His mate.

For once he went on the elevator when he reached the hotel. He was pretty sure the staff would allow him but as he reached to push the button he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of his forearm. Oh. Oh! His omega bit him! His mark had marked him back. Fighting or not it must have counted to their bodies. If the Alpha hadn't been so excited he would have facepalmed himself.

His phone went off and he picked it up to find a simple text. It was from the omega he was heading to see as if Kells could feel him approaching. For a second he couldn't figure out the meaning of the string of numbers but when the glass box stopped and refused to open on the correct floor it all made sense. A pass code. Mr. Gun was welcoming him back. With a smile that hurt his cheeks and felt near manic Dom typed in the code but the moment the doors opened his glee vanished. Or retreated. He could still feel it in his chest but it was hiding, his childlike happiness protecting itself from another bad Alpha. “Megan.” He growled as his hand reached for the bag at his hip. He didn't even carry his regular kit anymore after Col had made so many playful jokes. He didn't need the full thing but he never went anywhere without at least one blade. And that bitch was about to see what it felt like.

“Hey Daddy’s bitch. I thought I ran you off.” She purred, winking at him as they faced off in front of the elevator. “I honestly thought I'd find you in pieces on the sidewalk.”

She saw him. She knew he was outside the window and she'd kissed his mate to mark what she claimed as hers. “Not so easy to get rid of but I figured I should take out Col’s trash like a good mate.” He matched her energy even though all he wanted was to find his omega and… well he hadn't decided what to do yet. He just worried about letting his lover see him like that. They weren't hidden, there was a small hallway entrance from the elevator but it was open to the flat. Somewhere his family was waiting for him.

“I should have known he'd pick a pussy. Look at you being a good little leashed bitch. I guess that's why it couldn't work between him and I, I have to be on top.”

“I get you fink tha’s an insult but you obviously don't know good pussy. I feel bad for whoever you convince to fuck you.” This was what he loved, those moments before a kill where they traded verbal barbs. She might be a spider weaving her web but he was often compared to a cat. It wouldn't be hard to bat this bitch to death.

Megan stepped closer, standing on tiptoe to press herself close. He knew she was trying to show she wasn't scared of him but it didn't prove shite to him. “You should ask your bitch omega. He knows mine is magic.”

“Dom? You here?” The killer was distracted by his lover's voice instantly and Megan slipped out of the apartment as she laughed. His urges were burning inside him but they died down as the other man walked out to join him.

“You look-” They started to speak at the same time and stopped short. While they would normally playfully insult each other they couldn't at the moment. Everything felt strange.

“I was worried you wouldn't come back.” Kells made himself be honest. Open. His mother had told him he had to try.

“Oh? Cause of tha’ bitch? Nah. We good.” The Alpha shrugged, his heart in his throat. Col was still shirtless and his gaze kept dropping to that anarchy tat. Somewhere inside was something he helped make.

“We aren't. I fucked up. I mean, it's not like I owe you shit but…” Kells felt his emotions on a thin fuse. His eyes burned as if he might cry. He swallowed whatever he was about to say as his mother tried to sneak from his bedroom to the front door. The woman couldn't be stealth to save her life.

“Happy to see you back. You feeling better?” She asked of Dom as she stopped next to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He gave her a genuine smile and a soft hug. “M’great. Don't worry luv, I got ‘em.” He gave her a little wink and even though she had no thoughts of him of the sort she still blushed. There was something incredibly charming about the father of her grandchild. Oh. Oh absolutely not. That thought sobered her right up.

“You kids play nice.” She teased as she stepped to the door and paused a moment before making her exit. “Dom sweetheart, I was thinking of offering you and your brother the apartment down the hall. Do you think Tom would like it?” Oh, so it wasn't just Colson who had been occasionally texting his best friend. They were all getting to know each other. The Alpha might actually have a family. Shite.

“I fink as long as it's got good WiFi he's ‘appy.” Dom grinned back as his lover floundered behind them.

As the door closed and they were left alone- Kells thought, he felt a little awkward again. “Fuck me I guess. Could have sworn I was the boss.”

“No you couldn't.” Dom joked with a happy smile and Colson chuckled.

“No I couldn't.” He took a deep breath as the Alpha walked closer and let that scent comfort him. “You came back.”

Dom’s grin grew wider. “Ya needed me.”

“Fuck you.” Kells huffed back, reaching for the other man's hand. “Do me a favor?”

“Any’fing.” And Dom meant it.

Colson didn't use words, he didn't have to. He just yanked his lover's scarred arm and pulled the smaller man flush against him, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. “I fhought you ‘ated kisses.”

“Mmm. Had to get her off my face.” The words were muttered between gentle pecks, neither was ready for much more. Together didn't mean everything was fixed. They were both too scarred for that. “She made me puke.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Ope you rinsed ya mouf out.” Dom joked, his mouth parting as his omega licked playfully over the seam of his lips.

“Mmm no, you're better than Listerine.” Col laughed and made a noise like a squeak when the Alpha squeezed his hips.

They stood in the doorway of Colson's bedroom for a while, sharing kisses and wandering touches. It felt like a metaphor for all they were going through. The in-between. Did they go to the bedroom or did the Alpha leave? Dom knew he couldn't go but he couldn't just fall into bed yet either.

He took a breath and eased back from the kiss but he didn't pull his hands away. If the omega needed space he could take it. He wouldn't disconnect. “‘Ow long you known?”

The words felt like cold water on Col's head but he didn't pull away. Not yet. The comforting hold started to feel suffocating but he leaned back against the doorframe and met the younger man's gaze. “Know what?”

“Come on Cols. I might be daft but it's your body. We should ‘ave talked about it by now. You need to see a doctor or summat.” The thought made Dom’s pulse quicken and his stomach sour. He fucking hated doctors. Maybe a midwife?

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Come on, let's lay down.” Colson stepped away but he pulled his Alpha after him. He was trembling all over but he thought he might could stop the killer from talking another way.

“Colson come on, ya mum told me. I should ‘ave known but I fhought- I won't explain wha’ I fhought cause you'll fink I'm daft but… We need to talk about our b-” Or not. Kells backhanded his Alpha so hard Dom stumbled back against the door frame. In-between again so soon, but he caught himself and stepped closer. Refusing to be pushed away so easily.

“S-sorry. I didn't mean-”

“It's okay. Ain't upset. It's a lot, I get it. Especially wiv ‘ow you live. I understand but we need-”

“The fuck you do!” Colson didn't mean to scream. He didn't mean to use so much volume his throat hurt. He didn't mean to shake and he definitely didn't mean for his eyes to fill so full he almost cried. He couldn't lose his shit. They were so close to making it work.

Dominic took a deep breath and the scent of terrified omega hurt his heart. He didn't want to make his love cry but they needed to talk and too many pieces of the puzzle were starting to click into place. He didn't want to scare his mate so he walked around to his side of the bed. He kept his distance but sat down, facing away for a moment. He couldn't look at the man while he spoke. He knew that sometimes the only way to make someone feel safe opening up was to know someone else had been through a similar battle.

Kells didn't move. He couldn't. He could feel something dark and twisted between them but it didn't feel wrong. It was as if their masks had fallen away completely and their devils were meeting each other. He just stayed standing next to the bed and met Dom’s eyes in the reflection of the shower wall.

“Me dad was so bloody exited to ‘ave a baby Alpha. Me mum told me it was the best day of ‘is life when I were born. Tha’ didn't last. Pretty soon I showed signs of asthma and he got upset he was given a broken kid.” Dom shrugged but it was only the beginning and Col could tell. “Me parents fucking ‘ated each over. Me dad beat me mum a lot. And me. He said the only good fings about ‘megas was a wet cunt, a willing slave, and a top price broodmare. But he didn't even marry one. Mum was a beta. He said one weren't good enough for tha’.” He sighed, hunching in on himself as he neared the first part he had to fight to say aloud.

“When I were about seven I got a lil sister. Ended up wiv two but… summat really broke in ‘im after ‘er. It probably always was. She was like you. An omega. Beautiful and sweet and so small. He was pissed. He wanted to sell ‘er right away but mum convinced him to wait. Dad he… he must ‘ave fhought I should ‘ave felt summat wiv ‘er around because when I jus’ treated ‘er like me sister he took me to a d-doctor. Beta bitch said he ‘ad a special test. He were jus’ a sick fuck who liked touching little boys. When I didn't pop a knot he said I were broken.”

Kells choked on a breath and his knees felt too weak to hold him up. He sat on the bed and Dom turned to face him, sitting sideways with one leg bent on the mattress. The omega couldn't speak yet but he stayed facing the man in front of him. He could at least show him that respect.

“Beatings got worse. He fhought he could force me to be a better Alpha and not be so bloody soft. I kept me sisters safe until… when I got a bit older and still didn't ‘ave a proper rut he… One night he brought a lady ‘ome. She was ‘is age about and I fink he'd been fucking ‘er on the side. ‘Ell if I know. He put a gun to me ‘ead and told me if I didn't fuck ‘er right he'd kill me. I still couldn't… But she did anyway.” Colson couldn't stop a small sob from escaping and Dom’s red gaze locked on his. “Funny fing... I 'it puberty a monf later around me next birfday. Jus' a late bloomer. When I say I understand…” He shrugged with a self deprecating smile.

The omega took a shaking breath and spoke so fast he wasn't even sure he made sense. “I was pregnant when my dad sold me. I lost… lost them after mom and Travis took me in. He- my dad's brother he… and my father caught him. Of course an omega's word didn't mean shit. I was too much like my mom. He left me for dead in the hands of a trafficker. If Travis hadn't found me…” He paused for a moment, his head dizzy and his stomach sick. Was this supposed to help? Make them closer? Wouldn't his Alpha leave after knowing he was broken? “I was twelve.” His large hand dropped to cup his stomach momentarily before it fell between them on the bed. “I didn't know. I didn't know until they were gone. Mom helped me and let me go on blockers. So you see… I can't do what you think. I'm broken.”

Dom's brows furrowed and his heart hurt. His mate was so very wrong but he was scared to push. He was starting to realize why Collette asked him to be patient. He just hoped their child could be too. “I don't fink you are. Or if you is, I am too and maybe we got the right shattered parts to make summat whole and beautiful togever.” He soothed.

“You're a fucking freak. I hope you know that.” The omega offered a playful tease as their fingers met and twined between them. Just that gentle touch gave him butterflies.

It was hard for Dom. He was desperate to show his child love and to make sure they were safe and sound but he knew his lover's mental state was easily tipped over the edge. He couldn't push too hard or he might lose them both. Everything was so new even though it felt so deep. “If you could… would it be summat you want?” He asked carefully.

“If I could- which I can't so don't get any ideas, yeah I think I'd like to. But I can't.”

Dom huffed a soft laugh at his stubborn lover. “But you been sick-”

“Nightmares.”

“And you obviously got a problem wiv scents,”

“She stank. She's not my fucking Alpha and she forced me to kiss her! Of course I puked.”

“And you been ‘orny-”

“For you. Asshole. Not anymore.”

“Liar. And you been aching.”

“Who wouldn't after that monster dick. You made me bleed like some fucking virgin.”

“Mmm, you was. And it's been over four weeks.”

“Oh fuck you. Creepy psycho bitch.” Colson grumbled but it was honestly a compliment by that point. A pet name.

“Your psycho bitch. Ain't gonna win tonight am I?” Dom huffed back softly and his mate gave him a brilliant toothy smile.

“Absolutely not. But…” Kells took a breath and settled back against the bed, tugging the smaller man to crawl closer. “I suppose if it helps you sleep at night you can keep trying to convince me.” Both their gazes dropped to the omega's stomach and Dom knew it was the closest he'd get to acceptance. It was Col's way of saying he knew, it was the only thing he could admit for fear of getting attached.

“Alright. I'll convince you.” Dom vowed but it wasn't a promise to prove the omega was whelped. It was to prove he was a worthy partner. That even as mad as he was he could show love, he could take care of his family, he could be a good mate and father. “I fink you'll figure it out in a few months when your belly proves it for me.”

“Bullshit. I worked out like crazy just to put on muscle. I can't gain weight for shit.” The omega huffed as he pulled the other man down on top of him.

Dom caught the past tense of the statement. His lover at least wasn't lifting weights anymore. Pretty twat knew already but couldn't say it and the Alpha could accept that. At least he was being safe. Well as safe as a fucking mob boss could be. “Ya did good Cols.” The words were soft and they made the omega wriggle underneath him. It was to cover a multitude of things- that he stopped lifting weights, that he pushed Megan away, that he let Dom back in that night, and even for how he shared. Logically the Alpha knew they couldn't do this together without talking and learning about the other.

“Shut up.” The omega snapped back, his gaze flashing gold and flicking away. He couldn't look at the smaller man when his gaze was so heavy and intense. Fuck him.

Dom huffed softly but took the opportunity to press a kiss to Col’s chest. His full lips felt soft and warm and needy to the other man. The next kiss was to his collarbone, and another over his nipple. A jolt of pleasure like electricity moved through him as if there were a nerve from his chest to his core. A sharp gasp escaped him and Dom seemed to freeze a moment before he did it again but the bastard didn't linger for long. The Alpha inched down his body a little further but when Kells realized his destination was more sugar than spice he tangled his fingers in Dom's wild hair and yanked.

Dominic hissed softly but his dick still jerked. Pain was a confusion for him, at least from his lover. “Wha?” He asked as faux innocently as he could muster but when his eyes rolled up to meet his mate's they were candy apple red.

“I thought you were trying to get your dick wet, not be a snuggle slut with my womb. Sneaky psycho bitch.”

Dom bit his lower lip and let it roll back out slowly. There was still blood dripping from the cut that Colson left. He'd never been backhanded that hard. His dad liked to use his fist. All his kisses left claims on the omega's skin and he let himself admire the sight. “Can't I do boff?”

“Absolutely not. At least not right now.” Colson was trying to be good, he didn't want to tell his lover he could never be a d- he couldn't even think the word without having to swallow panic. He just couldn't handle it right that moment with everything so fresh in his mind and Megan's scent still clinging to his skin.

Dom paused for a moment as if he were computing the new information and deciding what move to make next. Finally he nodded and crawled back up, laying his body flush against the other man's. “Ya know I'm not psycho yeah?” He asked and Colson arched a brow. “Sociopaf. It's different.” He wasn't offended by the nickname but he needed the omega to know. He wasn't even sure if shite like that was genetic or not.

“Apples and oranges. Still a piece of fruit.” Kells teased and Dom grinned. “Sorry about the um…” He sighed, ruffling the younger man's hair before dropping his hand. “I should ask if shit triggers you.”

“Ain't a gun neiver.”

“No like… I don't want to remind you of… shit.” Colson wasn't good at this. He didn't do relationships and he certainly didn't care to protect others emotions besides maybe his mom.

“Oh.” The Alpha had no clue what to say. It wasn't like he'd done this before in a healthy way. The man underneath him was his sex list.

“Hair pulling?”

“S’okay.”

“I shouldn't have rocked your shit. I'm sorry.”

“I doubt it'll be ya last reason to bitch slap me.” Dom was surprised when his mate laughed and it put a happy smile on his face.

“What about…” Colson trailed off as his sight explored the boy. His neck was covered in small healing bites and his arm was scarred deep. He was pretty sure with that one he hit bone. “Teeth?”

“I don't fink you could stop if ya tried. But it's okay. I don't fink I got none of ‘ose. Me minds too fucked.”

Col had to stop himself from snorting, he might be blonde but he wasn't dumb. Normally. Something would come up at some point. It had to. He just wished he could know ahead of time. “You wouldn't let me bend over.” When Dom shuddered he knew he was right. “We'll figure it out.”

“Wha' about you?”

“What about me? Oh-” Maybe he was a little dumb. The omega shrugged and sighed, his long fingers finding their way under Dom’s shirt. “Everything sets me off. I never know what it'll be. It's not like I've really done this shit before but baby I am a gun, don't be afraid to use me. Just do it and we'll figure out this shit as we go.”

“You a cheesy fuck Mr. Gun.”

“And you're overdressed.” He grumbled back, pulling the boy's hoodie and shirt off over his head. He felt a rush of heat between his thighs as he tossed them away and stared at his lover above him.

“And you bossy.”

“Duh. Now…” The silence felt so loud and Col realized it was his blood rushing in his ears. He was nervous as hell or maybe excited. He had never tried fucking a guy when it wasn't life or death. He'd always just stuck his dick in beta girls, they couldn't tell the difference in what he was and an Alpha. He certainly never thought he'd be wanting to get fucked, that bastard turned his life upside down. “Weren’t you about to blow me?” It wasn't a beg for sex, he wasn't sure he could ask for that and besides their first day together they'd basically been priests. Whatever happened the night before felt like two kids in band camp, not two adults with a- no. Nope. Fuck.

He watched the killer lick his red swelling lips and felt them both twitch. He couldn't rush this shit, he hadn't exactly been joking about how easy he was to break.

“I were?” Dom asked, his own cock so hard behind his slacks he ached.

Colson smiled and nodded, his shaking hands the only giveaway he was nervous and he knew he was making marks in the younger man's soft skin. “You were.”

“I were. I fhought I were about to eat you out but alright.” The omega inched further down his lover's body.

“Oh. Well… fuck. Wait do you have your god damn grandpa shoes on my fucking bed? Do you have any idea how expensive these sheets are?” The switch in tone was so fast it made Dom's head spin.

He tried not to think his omega was an OCD princess but the thought did cross his mind. His red eyes rolled as he kicked his shoes off to the side behind him- all without pulling away from his mate. “Me creepers ain't grandpa shoes and nei'ver is me pants. Sorry I ain't got expensive tastes ya ‘ighness.”

“You're lucky you're cute. If you didn't have such a slutty looking mouth with those fucking DSLs I'd kick your ass out for that.” The mob boss growled mostly teasingly.

Dom tried not to let on when something inside him was shocked that he didn't hate hearing those words from Col. He'd heard so much about his whore mouth growing up. Or that he looked like an omega prostitute. From his lover it sounded like a compliment but one thing confused him. “DSLs?”

Kells chuckled. He was almost surprised at how innocent the murderer was. It made him appear even younger. “It's like banging a teenager.” Colson cringed at the thought but Dom just tilted his head as he sat back on his pink socked ankles. He'd have to ask about those at some point, the guy was always wearing them. He busied himself by working his jeans open, raising his ass to let Dom pull them off before he could second guess his needs. “Dick sucking lips.”

The Alpha was so distracted as he worked his omega's too tight jeans down his inked thighs he barely registered the phrase. “Well I ain't before.” He explained offhandedly but once he got the guy nude he whined. Colson was gorgeous, that he already knew. He had to climb off the bed backwards to pry the material off and he stood there wide eyed, worshiping Kells with his gaze. His lover flushed pink as he pulled his legs bent and slowly let them fall open, giving Dom a visual to speed his pulse and make his knot try to pop. The omega was obviously wet, his folds shiny and blushed and his cock was full, resting on his hip. “But I fink I can learn.” Dom groaned, his voice somehow already hoarse. He was throbbing as he stripped his own pants to the floor but he kept his boxer briefs in place. This was about Colson until the man asked otherwise.

“Yeah?” Col’s breath caught in his chest at the look Dom gave him. “Come here. Let me teach you?” It was a dangerous game offering that to an Alpha but his was far from normal.

“Please?” He tripped in his haste to get close again but he caught himself on the bed and crawled closer. The tip of his dick was already trying to escape his briefs, pink and leaking a mess against his stomach. This was about Colson though. He would prove he was a good lover. That he wasn't like those pushy fucks he took out. His omega could feel safe with him. “Wanna taste you.”

“Fuck yes."

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know! 🖤

Sorry for the cliffhanger but it was getting long. I know this was a heavy chapter but the next one should be fun! These boys have been through so much but they're good for each other. I hope you enjoyed! 💣🖤

#yungblud #dominic harrison #dom harrison #machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #dom and colson #dom and colson fic #dom x colson #dom x colson fic #yungblud and machine gun kelly #yungblud and machine gun kelly fic #yungblud x machine gun kelly #yungblud x machine gun kelly fic #com #com fics #domson #domson fics #my fics #jinx fics #alpha beta omega #alpha dom #omega kells #serial killer fic #hitman fic #mob boss fic #past abuse #past sa #past miscarriage #enemies to lovers

[deardiary1899]

exams just ended so now i get to talk abt race (ft. Jack Kelly) again

Race is kind of a jokester. He's kinda goofy, silly even. But, I think by essence, he's a practical person and because I kin jack kelly™, he's the opposite of jack.

Jack Kelly and Racetrack Higgins look out the windows of the lodging house and they see the world, but they never look through the same window.

Jack Kelly sees a world that he can dream of, and that he can *be* in. When you're a lone boy with a dead dad and a deadline to meet everyday, every week, every month-- he feels so small. He feels so insignificant, stuck. So, when Jack Kelly sees the ever-changing streets of Manhattan, he wants to change too. So if he can't move in Manhattan, what better way to change, than at a place you can? When he looks past the buildings, the cement, and the crumpled, fishy smell pile of papers in the trash (yesterday's news), he sees a world outside New York.

Racetrack Higgins sees a world he's in, and it's a world he's always moving in. Race doesn't have time for dreams when he's pushing to sell 106 papes in the morning, only to push an extra 60 in the evening. He doesn't have time to dream when he's thinking of the best day of the best week to buy a matching pair of socks, or even one pack of biscuits that hasn't softened, or grew suspicious molds around it. He doesn't shy away from it, because he knows he can't, so he just has to accept it and live to the best way a boy his age could be-- it's hardly close to any of the more privileged kids, but he finds meaning in everything he does, and he finds so much worth in the people around him for that.

So, maybe that's why Jack always runs away. Maybe that's why Jack can't help but hide at his penthouse, drinking in the sunset, barely any regard to the buildings below him-- Santa Fe might have better ones. Maybe that's why Race is the second-in-command, because he can't run away, knowing he's still in the same world of dirty clothing, cigarettes and greedy adults. Maybe that's why he can't help but place a bet or two, because at least he should have some kind of fun while doing it.

#newsies #newsies broadway #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #racetrack newsies #newsies jack kelly

[thefactsofthematter]

this delancey brothers thing is so interesting to me because like,,, we get very little about their whole family life and backstory and the fandom has yet to come up with anything incredibly solid,,, anyways just thinking thoughts and i want to hear what you have to say

right?? i feel like for a while the fandom kinda shunned them bc of their role as villains… but a bad guy can be a compelling character too!!

i already gave a rundown of my backstory for them in the last ask i answered, so here’s my completely baseless thoughts regarding their personalities and relationship w each other!! @jack-kellys here’s the rest of my delancey nonsense 😙

- oscar is a deeply angry person. he doesn’t know how to feel anything else, when the world has been so cruel to him. he’s been trying to parent his little brother for years, in the shittiest of situations: from an abusive home, to jail, to their tiny bedroom at the newspaper office. wiesel is harsh with them, their job consists of long days of tedious work, and he often feels he has nothing to look forward to. he takes it out on everybody except morris, because he’s learned over the years that everyone is out to get him, so he may as well hurt them first. (hostile attribution bias anyone?? shoutout to all my fellow bitches who studied developmental psych 🤘)

- morris, on the other hand, strikes me as a little less angry and a little more scared. an odd hc of mine for him is that he’s on the fetal alcohol spectrum - he deals with numerous learning disabilities and developmental delays because of it, and it’s made all the trauma he’s experienced very hard to process. he finds his and oscar’s job frustratingly difficult: counting papes and keeping the numbers straight is hard for him, he hates how loud the newsies are (and how loud uncle wiesel is when he’s yelling), and he can’t focus for very long without getting the urge to jump and run and move around, which he knows he’s not allowed to do. he also knows he doesn’t speak very clearly— unless he’s very intentional with every syllable, which almost sounds worse because it’s so awkward, or using phrases he’s already practiced— so he’s given up on talking to anyone other than his big brother, for the most part. he lets oscar do most of the talking and is happy to back him up with his fists.

- oscar doesn’t really understand morris’s disability, but he tries not to think too hard about it. he doesn’t know why his brother needs help with certain things that seem easy— like knowing which shoe goes on which foot, or spelling the letters of his own name— but he’ll help him nonetheless, because that’s just what he needs to do. he thinks he might need to take care of morris forever, because it often seems like there’s some things the kid will just never get the hang of, but oscar doesn’t mind that, because at least it gives him some purpose. if he has to sit there every night and remind morris of the steps to getting cleaned up before bed (wash your face and hands, run a comb through your hair, fold up your clothes…) then at least he’s doing something helpful each day, and that makes him feel alright.

- a random anecdote that sorta sums them up (under the cut bc this is long already):

for morris’s 13th birthday, oscar steals a little stuffed dog from a shop, which morris names puppy and instantly clings to with all his might. at the time, oscar knows morris is too old for toys, but the way the kid lights up when the silly thing is handed to him makes everything worth it. he simply decides to accept that all the bullshit they’ve been through has made it hard for morris to grow up at the same rate as other people, so if babying him a little makes him this happy, that must be fine, right?

several years later, the first thing that ever compels oscar to lay a hand on wiesel is finding puppy in the trash on the front step on his way home from running errands, with its ears ripped off— he’s instantly sure that wiesel found it and took it from morris while he was gone. he charges inside and punches wiesel square across the jaw; he then spends the rest of the night barricaded in their bedroom, trying to messily sew puppy back together and simultaneously calm down his inconsolable little brother.

“you’re too big to cry, mo. you know that. you gotta cut it out before uncle hears you, alright?”

“but he took it. he took puppy away and wrecked it and said i can’t have it no more,” morris wails. “it ain’t fair, osc.”

“i know. i got it back and i’m trying to fix it, okay? i’ll get puppy good as new for you, i swear. you just gotta stop— you’re a big fella and you’re crying over a toy. you can’t be doing that.”

morris sniffles, obviously holding back a sob.

“you busted his head. why’d you do that?”

oscar shrugs. he finally manages to tie off a decent knot on one of the ears, which almost looks right again, despite his terrible stitches.

“i was mad. don’t no one mess with my brother without going through me, right?”

morris manages a smile, despite the way he’s still intently watching his beloved puppy be put back together, with tears in his eyes.

“right. and i’ll soak anyone who talks bad at you, i swear.”

wiesel beats oscar black and blue with his cane the next day, but oscar would take it a million times over for morris’s sake. when the newsies start wisecracking about oscar’s fresh cuts and bruises at distribution, morris starts beating on whichever of those loudmouths he can get his hands on until the whole lot of them have nothing more to laugh at.

the delancey brothers have each other’s backs at all fucking costs.

#so this is long but. i have been rotating these two in my mind and building them some characterization #so it’s just like. morris is very childlike on the inside and fighting is the only way he feels like he’s in charge. #oscar is just so goddamn mad at everyone and everything and needs to make it everyone’s problem or he’ll lose his mind. #they’re both awful bullies but god do they care about each other. maybe they grow up and calm down eventually. #oscar delancey #morris delancey #the delancey brothers

[sweetberrylover]

Can you tell me what was in the Valentine's day story

OH brother I knew someone was going to make this question

Obvious spoilers for the new Plastic man Valentine story from “How To Lose A Guy Gardner In 10 Days”

Basically most people are mad at how bad the characterization of plas is in that story that basically treated him as shallow doofus that EVERYONE hates for no good reason that has to learn a big lesson at the end of the story

So like imagine Joe Kelly levels of bad writing but atleast in this one they didn’t make him a pervert THANK GOD ( although they still make him kind of a horndog and there is a part in particular where he ask Wonder Women out and it’s cringy to say the least )

Also the design they gave him is just… mh not great

( Here’s examples of what I’m talking about so yk I’m just making this up )

It really sucks not only because of how all the waiting we did just for it not be good but also because there really was something you could have done with this concept that would actually be good with Plas

Plastic man is a character that does infact has a history of bad luck in romance mostly because back in the Golden age he seemed pretty uninterested and even scared of woman and in the modern age any love interest he has had is a cardboard girl that’s only exists to give him children or to cause conflict ( in summary most of his love interests are non-existence or straight up abusive/toxic)

Having a story explore his bad luck with romance or a story exploring him dealing with a bad relationship would be very interesting and great development but unfortunately that’s not what happened here. Everybody mistreats him for little to no reason, they paint him as shallow womanizer and throughout the story he hits on a women who turn him down multiple times and also he thinks she’s is married for most of it which obviously paints him in such a bad light

For some odd reason not only does everyone around Plas treat him like trash ( Batman starting to date Plastic mans girlfriend after she basically cheats on Plas all the time and Wonder Woman not knowing who he even is EVEN THOUGH PLAS HAS BEEN IN THE JL FOR A LONG WHILE ) and somehow that’s his fault but also the writers forget the two big things about him is 1 his supposed to be heroic and 2 his supposed to actually be a character and not just a gag joke

Im summary it’s just not that interesting or good. It’s not offensively bad as Joe Kelly or Mark Waid writing but the reason people dislike so much it’s cause we have seen this song ad dance over and over again and it’s just tiring

( forgive me for the bad English or typos this isn’t my first language and I’m also typing this in a hurry because there so much I want to say but also ik I can’t make this super long )

#to add more things to this #plas isn’t allowed to have a cast of reacorring characters #woozy chief branner Luke Edwina Pado Angel Morgan or any of his rouge basically don’t appear in canon anymore or exist solely to cause drama #now with all that in mind he’s also treated as a shag character and Plas himself hasn’t appeared in canon for a long while #pair all this and than have the little appearances he has in comics now is has a background character #a gag character or in bad stories like this ofcourse people get mad #it’s just sad to see Plas being treated as a one trick pony with no dept or something interesting going on #any ways #rant disguised as essay #plastic man #woozy winks #not art related #ask/tell me anything

[we-are-inevitable]

i rly fuckin love that restaurant au… pls speak on the javey of it all !! @jack-kellys

ohhh the javey of it all …. no but this javey slays.

at first, they like each other! they get along well, and davey doesn’t have any problems with jack. jack is efficient and cares about the quality of the food he’s putting out, which in turn makes david’s tips that much better, so their professional relationship is good. they don’t really know each other that well, but they respect each other. they both see each other busting ass to make sure the restaurant runs smoothly, and everything is good in the world.

but then david comes into work pissed off, and he snaps at jack for one of his appetizers taking too long and a table complaining about it, and all hell breaks loose. for the entirety of that shift, their snapping at each other, making snide remarks, and davey always mutters insults as he leaves the kitchen, because who the fuck does jack think he is? gordon fucking ramsay? appetizers don’t take that fucking long and jack should just get his head out of his ass and god, when davey is pissed, davey is pissed.

the animosity between them continues for three days. they’re both too prideful to admit that they were wrong, or apologize, and it all comes to a head when david is taking the trash out after a closing shift and jack just so happens to be outside chatting with some of the line cooks. when david is walking back to the restaurant from the dumpsters, jack sees him, and they make eye contact, and david could easily ignore him, but where’s the fun in that?

“You know, we have an entire restaurant to clean. Maybe you should stop the chitchat and get back in there with the rest of us and actually do something.”

“Oh, so cooking over two hundred meals today- that’s not doin’ somethin’? Cleaning an entire fucking kitchen ain’t doin’ somethin’? Kitchen closed thirty minutes ago, Jacobs. We’ve already done all of our shit. Maybe if you would do your fucking closing tasks early, you wouldn’t—“

“I just got my ass handed to me by a table for sweeping while they were in the dining room, asshat! I can’t fucking clean the bathrooms and keep track of three four tops! Not this late! You want me to start closing the restaurant early? Fucking fine. I’d like to see you buss a goddamn table.”

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? You’ve been nothin’ but a dick the past few days—“

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to be pissed off? Is that what you’re saying? You think you’re so goddamn important that you’re the only one allowed to have a problem with anyone else?! Listen, asshole, you’re not as perfect as you think you are. You think I need to put my ego in check?! That’s rich coming from— Mmph!“

long story short, the entire time they’ve been arguing like this, they’ve been moving closer and closer until they’re essentially chest to chest, and one minute they’re bickering and the next they’re making out with david pressed against the brick wall and jack holding him there.

that’s kind of their normal for a bit. they argue, they fight, they make out behind the restaurant when david takes the trash out and this ends up being the gateway into their relationship. it doesn’t last forever, maybe just a month or so before, surprise! they’re having deep talks in jack’s bed and falling head over ass in love with each other because, wooow, there’s actually a nice person buried under all of the dickish remarks and bitchy comments

from then on, there’s a shift in the arguments that they have in the kitchen. they’re more snarky than mean, and they flash a lot more smiles at each other; it’s clear to the two of them that they’re just messing around now, because that shift also made them communicate normally when something goes wrong. they don’t yell and scream at each other anymore, which kind of tips charlie off that there’s something going on.

they go as long as possible without disclosing their relationship, just because they know there might be some power imbalance allegations around the restaurant- jack is a seasoned chef here, after all, and david is the newest addition to the team (despite having more serving experience than most of the others on the waitstaff). when they finally tell charlie (only because he caught them riding to work together even though they live on opposite sides of town), it’s a little rocky at first but charlie knows that they’re professional enough to do what they need to do and not ruin it for everyone else.

their relationship is solid as a rock after telling charlie, though. sure, they have their differences, and arguments happen, but it’s nothing they can’t work through (and besides, their arguments lead to great makeout sessions, so it’s not that awful). everyone else finds out about the relationship about a month or so after charlie, and the rest is history!

jack and davey go from being the most annoying and bitchy enemies to being a solid team in the restaurant. obviously they don’t give each other special treatment on the job, but they work a lot better as a team, and that only gets better as david is promoted to the lead server position!!!

the restaurant closes on the day of their wedding bc so many people requested for that day off lmfao

#i love this javid so fucking much #daveys a bitch and jacks an asshole and they work so well together #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #newsies #jac txt. #livesies #ask a jac ! #newsies musical #restaurant au #javid #javey

[itaipava]

anyway you guys i really don’t wanna talk about kelly piquet on this blog anymore. she’s trash and i hate her and i don’t wanna talk about her here because i created this account to write and talk about the things i like & enjoy and to be my safe space (and for everyone that follows me too) so yeah :)