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madelynraemunson · 1 month

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pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older! eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson smut #older!eddie smut #dad’s best friend!eddie #dad’s best friend!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months

Text

Word quantity: high. Word quality: low. You have been warned.

Goo Kim x Reader: School Days with Princess & the Delinquent

Chapter 2 - Please read chapter 1 first!

"Miss Goody-Two-Shoes not got anyone to tattle on this lunch?" Goo leans down, elbow on your desk and propping his head up on his hand.

Obnoxiously in your face and demanding attention.

"I don't tattle," you mutter, not rising to the bait and especially not wanting him to cause trouble for you. You don't bother to look in his direction, instead trying to process the words on the page.

"Hey," he clicks his fingers in your face, "I'm talking to you."

You ignore him.

And Goo Kim is not someone who likes to be ignored.

"What's this then?" He snatches your book, reflexes lightning quick and you barely comprehend it being swiped before your eyes.

"H-hey!" You sputter, leaping up from your seat. Hand trying to claw your property back as Goo moves it out of your reach and flicks through the pages.

"Physics, huh?"

"Goo Kim. Give it back."

"Nah," A casual flick of the wrist as he aims it towards the open window and it flies out with startling force.

Your hands slam down on to your desk and a resounding smack rings out. "Y-you...!"

Leaning right into your personal space, he smirks. "I what?"

"Why did you do that!"

"You don't need that Princess, Physics is easy."

"And how the hell would you know?! You're just a delinquent."

Goo grins, unnaturally wide and fangs showing but there is no mirth in his eyes, "I'm not just anything babe. I’m sorta a genius."

With that, he leaves as you seethe.

Muttering curses under your breath, you search around in the flowerbed beneath your classroom window until finally, you find your stupid goddamn textbook covered in leaves and soil.

Between Goo Kim and physics, your sanity is hanging by a thread.

"That's wrong," the blonde whispers, silently sneaking up on you and dangerously close to your ear.

You almost jump out of your skin. You thought you were in the classroom completely alone again.

(How you have come to so easily recognise his voice, you don't want to know.)

"You've fucked up Bernoulli's equation."

You stare at the figures you have written down. It takes you a little while to spot it but. Oh. So you have.

Chancing a glance at him, you find his face almost touching yours, looking intently at your workings. You can make out his long lashes, the faintest single freckle just below his ear, the golden specks of his iris.

His gaze suddenly turns towards you, and you hastily look away, face reddening at being caught staring.

"Princess," you don't need to see his face to know he's unbearably smug, "I didn't think you were a dummy."

Excuse me?! You routinely rank top in your classes. It's only stupid Physics that you are absolutely terrible with. You whirl round, ready to argue-

But nobody is there. Goo had already left.

Goo knows your type.

Everything comes easily to you. You've got a clear path to a good future.

A cliche. Probably going to marry your high school sweetheart, have a little family and a white picket fence.

Boring.

It is wonderful then, for Goo to realise that even you struggle with something.

And his chest puffs a little with pride at spotting your mistake, finding something you did wrong. He absolutely did not do it to help you, where's the fun in that?

Goo's favourite hobbies are making money and breaking bones. If he can't do either then his next favourite is being proven right and then being downright insufferable about it.

It's a very peculiar routine that none of the student body or even your friends can work out.

Indeed no-one wants to either because the further they are away from Goo Kim, the better.

He has a new habit of pointing out your mistakes at lunch. Identifying each error with the utmost glee that makes you want to tear your hair out and bash your head against the desk.

Maybe even bash his head against the desk.

The underlying fear is still there. As with any prey that looks into the eye of a predator, no matter how tame they appear on the surface.

But now, the overwhelming feeling is irritation and frustration.

Perhaps everyone fears Goo Kim, intimidated by the sight of him, because they haven't had to spend more than five minutes in his company.

Smug and conceited, with a perverse streak and confidence to spare. Actually no, it's barely even confidence. He is so unbelievably arrogant that to say he is confident would be the understatement of the century.

Yet.

You can't help but think as he points out again another miscalculation on your part, that maybe you got him a little wrong. Even if you do want to smack that smirk off his face.

Annoyed with him, yes. And reluctantly grateful too.

Fear and terror returns in full force when you see Goo in a fight one day.

Holding what looks like a plank of wood and mercilessly beating up a group of guys from a neighbouring school.

Expresion deranged as splashes of blood paints his uniform red. Splattering across his glasses and all over his hair.

Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he looks up and finds you watching him. Face white and body trembling.

"Y/N?" he calls out and that causes you to snap to your senses, sprinting away in the opposite direction.

Shrugging off your reaction, Goo continues with his task at hand.

#this whole fic is so self indulgent #i am so so sorry at the quality in advance #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon #school days with princess and the delinquent

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topgunruinedme · 1 year

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Tip my hat to you//0.1

Summary: After returning from the uranium mission, Bob finds out his long-term 7-year boyfriend was cheating on him. Bob goes to the only person he knows who wont ask questions. Jake Seresin.

Read on AO3

previous chapter

Bob hated planes, which was ironic given he was a Weapon specialist officer. He didn't hate the flying so much, it was the fact that he was stuck in a cramped space bored out of his mind for the next 5 hours.

He also hated flying commercial in his uniform, but he hadn't been in the right mind frame to change. It came with benefits but it came with more con’s then pro’s, he hated being stopped all the time, “Thank you for your service”.

It was so grating, you wouldn't stop a normal person? Why get in his way to say something they clearly didn't mean?

He had flown to Lemoore in uniform because he had a meeting with the brass before he left for the airport and didn't have time to change. He hadn't seen the point, after all it was only one little flight.

He remembered their last night together at hard deck, everyone had been having fun. Their last night all together before people started shipping out.

God he had been so dumb, he had been talking to Phoenix all week about how excited he had been to be coming home.

The Hard Deck had been loud, there was only a few days left before he left. The noise pounded in his ears and there was a faint pulsing starting in the back of his head, an early sign of a headache coming on.

He signed dreamily, he knew his heads were in the clouds. It didn't seam to bother the other who were spread out in the bar, Rooster and Fanboy were playing pool, Payback and Coyote were playing darts and yet somehow both of them were losings. Hangmen was around - Bob hadn't seen him for a good hour, and Maverick was at the bar.

Phoenix nudged his shoulder rolling her eyes at him in amusement, she dropped into the booth next to him. Groaning dramatically earning her a weird look from Fanboy who looked confused, but the look was wiped of his face as his head whipped around at the sound of the cue cracking on the ball as Rooster won the game.

Bob had been so excited to come back home. To see his crew again. To see Dan again. He had expected a warm welcome, a kiss and an embrace that would rival any military reunion. A homemade dinner and then a passionate night in between the sheets.

He had babbled to Phoenix about him for hours, in and out of the cockpit. She probably knew more about him then he did at this point but she never stopped him, as he talked about how amazing he was. How he missed him more then the world, how long it had been. How unbelievably sweet he was. Way to eat his own worlds.

“He’s just so..” He trailed off, Nix gave him an assumed look.

“Dreamy” she offered causing him to snort.

“Perfect” he admitted, she gave him a genuine smile pulling him into a hug, “I’m happy for you Bob, I really am” she gave him a kiss on the cheek, “Now, lets go watch these idiots make a fool of themselves shall we?” her grin became wolfish and he laughed at her glee. He would miss this.

They had become an odd bunch, Rooster and Hangman had started to get along. Maverick and Rooster were patching things up, there was something other then a platonic relationship happening between Fanboy and Payback. Coyote he hadn't had a chance to talk to much but he seamed to be reinstating a broken friendship with Phoenix. Despite everything, they really had become a team in the end.

How long had it been going on? How long had Dan been cheating on him? Had it been the entire time? How much of a fool had he been?

The lingering feeling of anger and betray hadn't faded, but mutated. He was resigned. But there was only so long before something like this would happen. They had been together for 7 years. That's a lot for people who weren't married.

People who were looking at homes together, who were looking at getting a dog. A family home with a white picket fence and 2.5 children.

What a joke.

He gritted his teeth as they went through a patch of turbulence, he took a deep breath in. He missed having his trusted pilot in the front seat of the jet, even a dogfight would be a smoother flight then this. He wasn't convinced this pilot had a license.

His phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket glancing at the remainder displayed on the screen grimacing. Squad breakfast date.

He would need to reschedule that, his pilot Nixy had arranged it so they could get back together and catch him up on what he missed when he was deployed.

He couldn't attend if he was in Texas, he felt a slight sting of guilt for blowing of his squad, his family for something like this. An impulsive trip, but he could stay there, not while he was there.

They would understand, it wouldn’t stop her from coming herself and checking up on him.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket for safe keeping as he leaned back relaxing into the seat. While it was uncomfortable he had been in a fighter jet with far worse seats for far less time. He closed his eyes, this was going to be a very long flight.

Slowly the noise of the jet around him faded and the familiar noise of a jet sounded around him, he opened his eyes and found himself in the back of a fighter jet. Flying was as easy as breathing for him so why did it feel like an elephant was sitting on his chest?

He tried to move, to flip a breaker, to do anything. But he found himself pinned down to his chair, he grunted and tried to move again only to feel like he had been shoved roughly back into the seat wincing as he caught something on the way back. His back ached slightly before fading into the background with a faint pulsing pain.

He breathed in and tilted his head slightly when he head phoenix mumbled over there comms "that was close”

He could hear Maverick’s grim “too close".

What had been too close?

He didn't have much time to think when the jet shook violently, "Bird strike!" someone yelled out. Bob felt his chest construct and his panic set in as they started going down. He needed to move to help Phoenix. He needed to move.

He couldn't, he was frozen.

Alarms flooded through the cockpit as Phoenix attempted to save the jet.

“Phoenix both engines are on fire!” he called out to her, sweat poured down his back.

“Climbing!” Phoenix called out to command, “Throttling back. Shutting off fuel to the left engine. Extinguishing fire!”.

“Right engine is out!” Was he talking? His body was shoved against the side of the cockpit and a wave of nausea hit him. Where was he? He looked out of the canopy staring at the ground before they flipped again. Was he upside down?

He twisted his head swallowing heavily, trying to make sense of what was happening. The jet was to loud. It wasn't safe. It didn't sound at all like he was used to.

Everything around him seamed to slow, the cockpit seamed quiet, muffled. Almost silent.

He loved flying, it was calm. Sitting in the back providing an extra pair of eyes, staring out in the sky around them. Gliding through the air while making fun banter with his pilot. This wasn’t it. The cockpit wasn't filled with a friendly air, it was filled with panic as the jet twisted in the air and metal grinding. He could hear people yelling, his ears were ringing and he struggled to breath. Who was talking? What was happening?

They were plummeting to the ground, where they flying or falling?

He couldn't remember.

A shiver ran through him as he looked at the ground coming closer to him, he wondered ideally what type of animals lived down there. Would they be carnivores or herbivores. He wasn't sure which he would prefer.

Would there be wolves? Bears? No, this wasn't the environment for bears. Maybe Coyotes were better?

A hysterical laughter bubbled in his throat, he would have to tell Coyote he found his family.

Where did everyone go?

His heart was pounding and a pain was starting to spread across his chest, he swallowed back bile and prayed for his stomach to settle.

There was nothing worse then vomiting in your cockpit hundreds of feet in the air. The smell tends to stay long after cleaning, he had learned that in the academy. Those planes always smelt like vomit.

A wave of dizziness flooded through him as his ears popped and suddenly he was assaulted by the loudness of the cockpit.

“Phoenix you cant save it! Eject! Eject!” Maverick commanded desperately. When had Maverick gotten here? Hadn't he left?

He could only watch as they get closer to the ground, as Phoenix stubbornly tried to recover the plane. She never pulled the ejection lever.

He closed his eyes as they collided with the ground. He felt pain flood through him, he felt like something was strangling him, tightening around his chest preventing him from breathing. Then he was being thrusted back and there was the familiar weight of g-force tearing apart his body.

He let out a gasp as he was jostled, his stomach dropping as his eyes shot open.

"I’m out of flairs!" Rooster cried out, no no no. The mission.

He saw it happen, he saw Phoenix frightened look in the mirror. He saw the devastation on her face and the determination. He watched helpless as she slammed the joystick to the side pulling them around far to tightly not to warp the frame. Making them leave their track, away from safety. He held his breath as she took place over Roosters jet without hesitation, showering the man with flairs. Cover Rooster just as he had seen Maverick do.

He held the plane with a iron grip, flexing his fingers only for an inch before the g-force pinned him down again. Alarms bleared through the plane as the plane jerked when the SAM hit them, Phoenix cried out in pain.

He wanted to ask if she was alright, but his voice was stolen from him.

He was stuck. Mute. Unless.

They were in a flat spin, the g-force pinning them back as they spun violently in the air heading for land. The alarms blared so loudly in the jet that he could hardly hear Nat over them.

"Eject bob! Eject!" Phoenix cried out. He couldn't move. he was pinned.

The Ejection handle was right there, between his legs. It would be so easy just to reach forward and grab them. He grunted as he tried to rip himself from where he was pinned. The weight strained against his body and pain flooded through him as he sank back in defeat a sob trying to crawl out of his throat. “Bob! Eject! Please Eje-”

The plane slammed into the ground and he expected pain again, instead he was graced with snow. He blinked one moment he was sitting in a fire covered plane staring at his dead unmoving pilot. The next he was stumbling into the snow collapsing to his knees staring as snowflakes landed, breathing in the smell of burning flesh and smoke. A familiar chuckle filled the air around him, haunting him.

"Not good enough Bob?" Daniel asked.

He let her down again, he failed. His only job was to help her fly, to keep an eye out for her. He had failed. Bird strike, the mission. They crashed.

Eject! Eject!

He should have reached forward, he should have pushed harder. He had been stuck, frozen in place, unless. He couldn’t fly a plane, he couldn't evade other planes like Phoenix could. All he was, was the guy in the chair. To call out warnings when she needed them. And he had failed. The bird strike, he could have pulled they out. They could have saved them, yanked them both to safety. But he hadn't. He had ignored Maverick’s yelling, his warnings, he had looked at his pilot knowing she wouldn’t pull the handles and had let them burn in.

The missile, they were falling, dropping. Burning in. All he had done was sit there, his pilots life in his hands and he had let it slip away from him.

Her still unblinking eyes started back at him from where she was pinned forward leaning over the cockpit, smoke made his eyes burn and the fire was smoldering around them. Dead. Dead. Dead. Your fault. You should have ejected. You should have moved. You should hav-

You will never be good enough.

He jerked awake his a strangled breath catching his scream just before it left his throat. The older woman sitting next to him startled as looked at him oddly, Bob swallowed and smiled "Apologies ma'am" he let his southern drawl seep into his voice. He tended to push it back when he was on placement. No one took him seriously with it, a dumb Texan blond. He didn't know how Seresin handled it.

“This is your captain speaking, I’m happy to announce we will be starting our decent. Welcome to Texas, and to those returning. Welcome home”.

Thank god.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun maverick #top gun headcanons #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #bob floyd headcanons #bob imagine #bob top gun #bob floyd #hangman x bob #robert bob floyd

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kedreeva · 1 year

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I hatr and love saying this at the same time but goddamn ked you were right the whole fucking demogorgon steve jonathan nancy scene stinks of ot3 i just got to the bit where they emded up in will room and like?? The hand grab?? The jump?? Yeah you were fucking right goddamn

I also pet someone else's barn cats yesterday

the hand grab is everything okay

Because like?? Jonathan could have left him there. King Steve was a dick to him, literally said terrible things to him this same day, he's got his hands full dragging Nancy away from a fight, and getting himself to safety too, but no. He stops and grabs Steve's hand too. Jonathan's heart is so big!! And Steve just instantly accepting Jonathan's lead.... ugh.

YEP

He really was sweet back in season 1. And honestly, he's still sweet to El, he's just a dumb teenage boy with no good frame of reference for dating. He's doing his best for her still in the other seasons (well. some parts of S3 are a mess, but that's not his fault for once, and some parts of 4 are a mess and that IS his fault).

Okay, gonna try to go chronologically from here:

time to put them through the horrors

Although I think it's really important to.... everything? that Steve and Nancy were getting it on while Barb was dragged off into the upside down. For like... so many reasons. First because like, that's going to give Nancy some Problems, a complex you might say, she is never ever going to feel like she can really relax again because if she lets herself relax then someone else might die. She's also struggling because she won't choose a significant other over a friend again- this is a HUGE part of season 4 even though they never say it out loud. Jonathan's moved to cali and he's been hoping she would come visit during spring break but she *can't* do that. She can't choose that for herself. He's worried that if he goes to a different college than her that she'll choose to come follow him, not realizing that she literally would never, because of the same reasons he won't leave to go see her or go to her college.

The other thing is like... I don't think anything less would have broken her and Steve. Not as completely. There's no way she's not going to be gunshy (lol LISTEN different kind of gun) about being with him because she's going to think of that night when they touch. How can she not? She chose him over her best friend and her best friend literally died from it (let's not even get into the idea that maybe if Barb hadn't been the one outside at the pool, it could have been Steve sitting out there or cleaning up alone after Nancy left, there may never have been a good choice to make, she might always have lost one of them and then both of them). And I just... also don't think that Nancy would have woken up to what she didn't want, if their disagreement over Barb hadn't festered like it does. Steve wants 6 kids and a steady job and insurance and taxes and a white picket fence. Nancy might just have settled for it, to keep him, if she hadn't been thrown so violently into her circumstances.

ANYWAY I don't have feelings :|

You will get to see Brenner die, and it will be SO FUCKING SATISFYING. It's not slow or torturous, not in the way you're thinking but it's fabulous. You will love it, promise. It's in season 4.

Also!!! Send me a prompt for Eleven + cat and I will write that shit, she deserves to cuddle a cat.

GLEE

Me, holding hopper by the scruff while opening the centrifuge: oh??

this makes me want to write a fic about him seeing things before season 1 begins. Things the lab contains. Encounter with 8, where she made him hallucinate things in order to escape him. SOMETHING. oh you haven't met 8. well!!

She'll get him again later too, for going after Mike again

I'm guessing yes, as it's the closest thing. I'm not sure who was first to write about 'the hideout' as a thing, I don't specifically remember seeing anything with The Hideout on it as opposed to 'the hideaway' in this season, but again... I don't always watch scenery. So it's possible there's both a The Hideout and a The Hideaway. But I'm thinking someone either invented it and everyone else went "sure" or else they didn't quite remember the name.

*grin* it's about the growing on you... slowly and almost without notice

The point where hopper gives up trying to pretend and just punches the guy is one of my favorites. Like hopper listen your specialty is not being subtle, bluffing is not your thing. Leave that to Nancy. but also yeS YES!!! Hopper finally joining in the official plotline!!

yessssss

and honestly I still have hope for Mike in season 5.... maybe THIS time it will be better....

Jonathan experiences his fair share of "I'm an idiot teenager" but overall I still love him. He's going to have some more growth he needs to do in Season 5, too, if he expects Nancy to stick around. I know, in my head, that the writers want her to choose steve or whatever, but she really does love jonathan, and what they've had so far is worth working through the problems they're about to face. Maybe that's just my common sense talking, but I'm a little tired of seeing relationships in media end at the first speedbump when the issue is something that could be fixed fairly easily, ESPECIALLY when characterization so far has been that they're willing to fight for each other literally and figuratively.

h hhgnnhhghg I would write this too, I would write Steve helping him tie is because he knows how, he's had to do it a bunch of times for his dad's stuff. Trying to show jonathan on himself so jon can copy, except Jon's not getting it and Steve gets confused trying to do it to someone else from the front, so he goes around behind Jonathan and ties it for him over his shoulders "are you watching" no, absofuckinglutely not steve he's too busy short circuiting

I don't know which part is odd, but you're right. The only thing a funeral is good for is having someone attend that is Mysterious or Dramatic about it.

Honestly as far as I remember they basically drop the meds thing after season 1 which really just makes me wonder if you're RIGHT that he was not actually hallucinating anything, that he was seeing Upside Down shit before anyone else and once he learned oh fuck it's real then he stopped. would make sense how he's so ready to believe in all of it once he catches a whiff of it, too.

I MEAN. not for nothing but Keery's in a band IRL iirc and I think he sings? but yeah steve probably can actually sing, too, which tickles me pink

I'm telling you, I'm waiting for Karen to snap. I'm waiting. She's gotta. There's things we don't know about Karen and I'm WAITING for the tiger to get out of that cage.

Dustin is amazing and I love him. He'll continue to be the sensible creature he is throughout. HE IS VERY STEADY!!! even-keeled baby.

okay I'm gonna go do some chores, I'll get the rest when I'm back in :D

#asks #anon asks #Anon (Delightful)#stranger things #stranger things meta

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sillyname30 · 8 months

Text

August recap

What I predicted:

MPTF summer party

What we got:

Interviews + promo for Australian tour

Taylor Swift concert

MPTF summer party

Actors Strike picket line + Glee Day

Adam Blackstone emmy nomination party

Malibu party – Jumperwall

The Bystander podcast promo

#darren criss

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harrison-abbott · 10 months

Text

Kat and her Kitchen Window

A gang of kids came by on the road, drunk – and one of them lobbed a bottle at the kitchen window.

Kat was there inside the room when it happened. And it gave her this enormous jolt when the window crashed. Except, it didn’t smash like the brittle glass you see in older movies; there was rather this sleek gritty screech of a noise and then a comet-like ball appeared there on the pane from outside … With these shocked streaks from it. Like a glassy spiderweb. The whole window didn’t break instantaneously. It just hovered there. Rather as when you get smacked in the face and the fist that struck you doesn’t break it, only offends and vilifies you and you stand there distilled and outraged and stunned.

That’s what Kat did. She was used to violence too, from her youth. When she was young her mother whacked her to discipline her because it was acceptable in those days. And one time she played with these girls from school down by the pier who she didn’t usually play with and were a bit older, and they took her down to the back of the beach and pulled her skirt down and kicked her between the legs and tugged at her hair, laughing all the way … and then walked off leaving her there and she never saw them again.

She’d only been making pasta. And had been too lazy to go down to the shops to get some more herbs – and so there weren’t enough green bits in there as usual. Now she was watching her broken window.

Why had they done it? This was summer and lots of kids came by this quite road. Because it was next to the woodland they could get anarchic … Kat’d heard them galloping down the road and a boy’s voice had yelled something but she didn’t hear the words; and after the bottle had hit the window the girls had shrieked in witchy hyena glee and their footfalls echoed away again.

They ran down the hill at the corner of Kat’s house.

She went outside. Into the July air. It was three weeks into July and still light at this time of the evening. The astonishing thing was that the bottle – the projectile object flung – hadn’t broken itself. It lay there in the grass, smugly. And was one of those kiddie-alcoholic drinks or whatever you call them that are designed to taste like soda and have 3% alcohol in them to make up for it.

“Should I call the police?” she said to herself. A little dazed.

Throughout this neighbourhood there were constantly being bikes stolen. She saw them in the rivers or in the weeds by the path going up to the supermarket. And there were often kids doing bonfires and so on in the woods.

The police never did anything with children. Kat was too old to be annoyed about kids specifically and didn’t to see any guillotine show; or have them all picketed against a grey bricked wall and have them machine gunned. That petty notion of revenge was lost in her adolescence.

She was just fucked off about her window.

It still hadn’t smashed completely.

And throughout the night it didn’t budge at all. It only kept trickly away, in that web-like matrix pattern, branching out from the impact point. Was it ever going to explode? Ticktocking time bomb.

That night the incident had been too late to call a repair chap to come and fix the window. And therefore Kat had had to stay up all night worrying whether her window would burst downstairs, with work due in the morning.

When 6 a.m. came the window remained stubborn.

Kat went around to the next house. Who was a Mr Jacobs. An old man, widower, honourably retired, walked with a walking stick and always wore a white hat and used to be super handsome and had had a rich life (in terms of experience, not money) and had visited fifty countries and was often either airy and would barely recognise you, or he’d stop and talk and actually be interested in what you were saying – which is a hard thing to discover in a lot of people.

She told Mr Jacobs what’d happened.

He was upset. She said that she had to go to work in a few hours but, please if he could keep an eye out on her window for her until she got back?

Jacobs got the message and said yes yes yes he would.

“Did you see who did it, Katherine?” Jacobs asked.

“It was silly stupid teenagers. I think they’d been drinking.”

When she went to work she didn’t tell anybody about what’d happened. It was easier to plug on with the computer screen content. Print out the paperwork. She was blue the whole nine hours and by the final hour she was so enraged by the window since she would have to pay for its repair. And what was the point in breaking it in the first place?

On the Metro train home she thought about it a bit differently. When she was young. Kat wasn’t an angel. She used to have this game where she would catch butterflies in the garden and kill them and then put them in her ‘hospital ward’ where they would recuperate from their sickness. She used to put her big brother’s toothbrush in the toilet pan water. Hated him! Hoped he would die! Did that when she was nine years old. Kat would steal coins from her Dad’s purse when he was drunk. Would break the hearts of boys routinely in high school and university days.

Nah she was not somebody that was destined for heaven, she knew, when she got off at the homeward Metro stop and walked on home. And rediscovered it with her window still intact. She sent Mr Jacobs a text message to say thanks for being the warden. Kat then made some food and put on a TV show … and by the by she Googled up WINDOW REPAIR in her city. She chose one number. Tomorrow was a Saturday and it said that this man worked Saturdays too.

This window joiner man was quite handsome in his profile photo on the website she looked at. When she called him on Saturday morning he had a heavy voice and different accent; and when he turned up at the house he was indeed very nice looking.

He had a younger lad with him. Kat had thought about flirting about with the main man until he introduced the young buck as his son.

Kat thought how silly she was to even think about things like flirting anymore. She was 39. And had had a barbaric history of lame failures with men. Not even chaotic ones, only flat and storyless.

She made them cups of tea as they put a new window into her kitchen. Both of them took milk and two sugars and at one point they went into their van again and stayed there for half an hour and when they came back they smelled of tobacco and bacon. They talked about soccer with this feverish aggressive zeal – whilst she sat in the living room trying to concentrate on a novel – and she couldn’t comprehend why they found this sport so fascinating. The big window man who she’d had the girlcrush on last night wasn’t so magnetic anymore.

They finished the job.

On the phone, when Kat had spoken to ex-girlcrush man, he had said the job would cost around this extortionate amount.

“But we had to do a few extra bits around the framing,” he said at the end, “so it will be a little bit more money I’m afraid.”

Which was all bullshit. It was just his way of getting more money.

One supposes that’s what money is all about. Conning people, being unfair.

By this point I didn’t care and I paid him on the spot with cash. Bye bye, we said, and they left, and I was left alone in my kitchen with the new window. This new eyeball staring at me, which wasn’t like the old dead eyeball that’d been there before. .And the men had taken the dead eyeball away in the back of their van.

I wondered what they would do with it.

What do you do with a bashed window?

#writeblr #creative writing #short fiction #stories #prose

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kiraabear · 1 year

Text

A snowy sunday. A really short Fanfic.

Setting: A snowy day in Fernweh.

Characters: Sparrow Finnegan (My MC as a kid), James Corvin and Reese Verner (as kids also)

The Fernweh Sage belongs to/is amazingly written by @lacunafiction !!!

Heads up I haven't written anything in ages and this was written at 1 am.

Sparrow stuck his tongue out as far as he could, watching cross-eyed as snowflakes began to gather on its surface, a chill settling upon the once warm tongue, now joining his redden cheeks and lips.

"... Really?"

A familiar voice mused, filled with amusement and care caused Sparrow to spin swiftly on his heels, tongue halfway through his wide smiling lips as he looked upon his dearest friend, James Corvin, who was just equally bundled up in warm layers to combat the winter chill as Sparrow.

"James! About time!" Sparrow beamed and only moments later the two were splayed on the snow covered earth, Sparrows arms wrapped carefree around a laughing James's waist, who returned the hug so warmly it could melt the snow away if it wished.

Pulling back only enough to face James but still trapping him in his embrace, Sparrow shook snow from his own dark locks and grinned. "I'm glad you finally made it, let's build a snow fort! You think the snow is deep enough?" Without waiting on a reply, Sparrow pulled back from the embrace before quickly slapping the ground, drawing a laugh from James.

Now free from the deathly confines of Sparrows hugs, James stood up and shook himself free on snow, running a gloved hand through his raven hair. Looking down at a still kneeling Sparrow with a smile. "I think so! It looks enough, plus more will just fall from the sky, right?"

Sparrow lifted his gaze up to meet James, nodding in quick succession. "Right! That's true! It's gonna be a great fort then! Fort uh…" Sparrow wrinkled his nose in thought, while James proffered his hand to him, which Sparrow wordlessly accepted. "FORT SPAMES!" Sparrow declared with a loud clap.

James immediately broke into another laughing fit, shaking his head and his shoulders shook with glee. "S-spames?" James repeated gently after gathering enough breath, earning a narrowed look from Sparrow.

"It's our names combined together! It was that or-"

"Jarrow?"

Sparrow nodded quickly, before giggling. "Actually Jarrow sounds way better! It's Fort Jarrow! Now come on! It's not gonna build itself!" Without waiting for a reply, Sparrow clasped James hand in his, lightly tugging on it as he rushed off to find the perfect spot for the perfect fort.

Two hours later.

The 'fort' in reality was a small, four snow built wall shaped as an uneven square just shorter than a typical picket fence. The 'door' consisted of a gap Sparrow kicked in so the two could crawl in and out. Despite its lackluster appearance, the two radiated happiness at their shared hard work, celebrating with a high five.

The sound of a car door closing alerted the two of others, even despite the fact the two were at the park, their parents watching not that far away, they had forgotten all but each other in their conquest. Turning their attention to a sudden newcomer, they're greeted with a familiar set of blond hair.

Reese Verner.

Already Reese's sharp blue eyes sought out Sparrow's stormy gray eyes, wasting no time, Reese squared his shoulders and swiftly strode over. Bundled in, what Sparrow had to assume was expensive winter clothing. As Reese approached,seemingly forcing himself to speed walk rather than run, Sparrow turned to gaze from his approaching rival to his best friend. The mischievous and competitive glint already sparkling in Sparrows eyes was familiar enough to draw a sigh from James.

"Finn-" Reese started as he drew closer, only for his words to be cut off with a flurry of white hitting his face. Sputtering out snow from his mouth as he glared at Sparrow, who was already gathering another armful of snow ammunition. Reese inhaled slowly before declaring loudly. "You're on, Finnegan!"

James shook his head in amusement as he watched the two. Reese was quickly gathering snow with his arms as Sparrow threw himself through the fort doors, calling to James to get to safety! A call James swiftly heeded.

"Finnegan! You think your cover will help you? I'll absolutely pelt you with these snowballs!" Reese vowed, his voice filled with confidence and determination. A light thud also followed his vow as a snowball hit the snow wall.

Sparrow took it as the perfect time to quickly jump up, looking over the wall and tossing a snowball, which hit Reese on the leg. Reese's retaliation was a surprisingly swift toss that managed to hit the top of Sparrows head. A soft laugh of surprise pulling itself free from Sparrow.

"Nice hit! But you'll have to do more than that!" With that, Sparrow dropped quickly to his knees, whispering swiftly into James' ear. James seemed hesitant at first, but his desire to help and support his friend seemingly outweighed the hestiantion.

As the two had been conspiring, Reese had been slowly approaching, a snowball in hand, raised high in preparation. It wasn't long before that snowball was freed, hitting a lock of dark raven black hair. Though it wasn't Sparrows dark hair Reese had struck, but James as he had raised his head over the wall.

The two stared at each other, blinking before James shook his head. "I'm not Sparrow! Why did you hit me?"

"Well obviously you're not Finnegan! I can tell that now. Not my fault you both have dark hair! And you're always at each other's hips and all…" Reese muttered, wrinkling his nose and swiftly looking to the side. The reaction caused James to narrow his eyes slightly at the pouting blond.

"Wait. Are you…" James' words trialed off as Reese returned his focus to James with a warning glare and a light scowl.

Before anything else to proceed, a sudden snow attack from behind caused Reese to yelp in surprise, spinning around as Sparrow tossed more snowballs at him. Having snuck out of the fort and gotten behind him as James had distracted Reese.

Sparrow tossed another that Reese in the chest, only for Reese to return fire! Striking his first in the arm before managing to hit Sparrows face, catching him off guard as he fell back with a soft 'ompf'.

Sparrow shoulders began to shake as he faced the cloudy snow, letting out a low throaty sound before two faces appeared. James' worried and protective expression and Reese's triumphant expression made it difficult for Sparrow to hold it any longer. A bubbling laughter exploded from within.

James exhaled a sigh of relief, before letting out a gasp as he was unceremoniously tugged down to the snow beside Sparrow, a wide smile was the greeting sight before it turned mischievous, Sparrow turned to Reese, who narrowed his eyes in turn. A silent stare off commenced.

Before a hand slowly wrapped around Reese's ankle.

Wide eyes were the only reaction Reese could harbor before he was tugged on, falling backward with a similar sound Sparrow had upon his fall.

Laughter greeted Reese's ears from the other two as she wiggled, but Sparrow, with his grip still secured on his ankle tugged Reese closer, even as Reese managed to roll onto his stomach in attempt to crawl away, it only made the giggling and determined Sparrow try to tug and pull him even more.

Even as Reese struggled for freedom, a bubbling, warm laughter escaped the young Verner's lungs.

#cyoa #jr tag #interactive novel #hosted games #fernweh saga #reese verner #james corvin #fanfic #fernweh saga fanfic #the fernweh saga #Sparrow Birdie Finnegan

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bells-of-black-sunday · 2 months

Note

ROBIN for Valentine’s Day alphabet for Danny(๑>◡<๑)

Valentines Alphabet | Accepting

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Definitely cynical. He doesn't really care about other people or see them as people, he sees romance as a biological necessity fueled be good emotion rather than something people choose to actively pursue. Which yeah is very snobby and asshole-y of him, but that's him and how he views it. This doesn't even really change for a while even when him and Robin are beyond murder flirting, now he's the outlier in everything. He's not ruled by emotion like everyone else, he is being self indulgent.

O : ODE.does your muse have a way with words?

Oh he thinks he does, he is a journalist after all. Though when it comes to romance he tends to be more blunt about exactly what he wants to do and what he's feeling, because again... he's never really cared about another person before...? It's hard for him to come up with stories for things he also has no real creative interest in, he just knows what he likes and says it.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

No. Well- he likes them when Robin gets them for him, because he knows that's his love language, but really other than that no. He tends to throw them away if he's not expecting company, because they die quickly for him and he doesn't really care to try to keep them living for long. He has fake plants that's all he needs they look look no matter what.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Very hard. Like I've said on many occasions, he doesn't care about anyone or see people as people. They're characters in his stories, why would he ever care about any of them? He has a hard time seeing past himself and at the broader picture for anything, but his ambitions this includes relationships. He will never admit he loves someone until he can't anymore and by that point it doesn't even really need to be said. It happened like that with Robin too I imagine.

They way he never really said it until they were already living and working with each other. I know it never bothered Robin, not like he need audible confirmation for something he can read plain as day on Danny's face no matter how practiced and perfected his smiles are. I think in a way he knows Danny just practices being a human being and doesn't really want him to actually act like someone normal. He fell in love with the man who writes stories about his own murders with child-like glee, not Jerry from church who wants a white picket fence and 5 kids.

N : NAUGHTY.what is your muse like in bed?

He's not very nice™. Danny loves to tease and degrade his partner, he likes the control it gives him when he doesn't normally have it in relationships like he does the rest of his life. Though he's not outright insulting Robin like he would other partners, he still does call him a whore or a slut, but in a loving voice. He likes treating him beneath him like an animal or a victim even. Though it never goes as far as it does with other people, he knows Robin's limits and respects his boundaries, he can still fantasize about it.

And he does. He fantasizes about killing Robin often, how he'd do it if he could. That's erotic to him even if he'd never act on it, he'll whisper the fantasies to Robin sometimes masking it as part of the scene they're doing, but it's something he's thought about for a while. He loves blood play, but doesn't really trust himself with a knife in bed. He's a careful and calculated killer for sure, but he knows how easy it is to cut too deep. He sticks to needles, they don't leave scars.

#ooc #/about the muse #��𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘍𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘖𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 - [ 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 ]#q.

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ushkowitzdaily · 8 months

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jennaushkowitz A day of Glee, reunions, picketing, friendship and solidarity. Glee brought so many people together and once again we are standing together in solidarity with our union, @sagaftra and our friends with the @wgaeast and @wgawest #unionstrong

#jenna ushkowitz #instagram #glee #glee cast #august 2023 #sag aftra strike

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d-criss-news · 8 months

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michael_macrae: Joining the walk with my fellow #glee cast + crew. #sagaftrastrong #wgastrong

#darren criss #michael a. macrae #romy rosemont #dot marie jones #iqbal theba #jenna ushkowitz #kevin mchale #michael hitchcock #jason snellman #josh sussman #sag aftra strike #wga strike #wga west #glee day picketing #instagram #aug 2023

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datshitrandom · 8 months

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Darren Criss walks the picket line in support of the SAG-AFTRA and WGA strike outside Warner Brothers Studios | August 23, 2023 | 📸 by Hollywood To You

#darren criss #sag aftra #sag aftra strike #support sag aftra #sag aftra strong #glee day picket line #glee #wga strike #wga strong #blaine is right you guys #corporate greed is no laughing matter #figgins tshirt #mensourcedaily #malecelebsdaily #malestarsedit #please do not repost

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marissapaul · 1 year

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12/14 day 1: assumptions and stereotypes

i suppose day 1 is as good a day as any to reflect on my spiritual journey. i have a relationship to spirituality that i don't fully grasp yet, but it's something i have been thinking about more and more in recent years. i grew up in the southern baptist church (i'll name drop, it was bear creek baptist church in katy, texas) and it was a miserable experience for queer person. you all have heard this story before, evangelical christianity has historically been not the kindest space for queer individuals. me and my other visibly queer friend (who grew up in the same church) were constantly on the receiving end of bullying and even death threats from members of the church. but being raised in the church was not all bad. because my parents decided to raise me in that particular church, and my best friend's parents decided the same (we lived in different parts of houston and likely wouldn't have otherwise met) i was also exposed to queer ways of being. that friend was my first exposure to modes of living outside of the church that i was raised in. he introduced me to new modes of sexuality and sexuality, of media, of enjoying art, and in doing so he set me on the journey i currently find myself on.

after coming out publicly i left the church i grew up in, for my safety i really had to. and for a while i held bitterness in my heart towards both religion and those that practiced it. not only did i grow up in the baptist church, but i grew up in an upper-middle class white family from in the suburbs of houston. my childhood exposure to what life could be and what life should be was so tightly constricted. it was the white picket fence and the four-person nuclear family and the heterosexual relationship and christianity and a lack of care for your neighbors in pursuit of personal glory. i didn't yet have the words and tools to advocate for myself and for other modes of being, but i knew that my mom's dream for my life didn't fit with what i was dreaming about: dragons and science fiction and kissing other girls and magic and superheroes and the hit fox television show glee. but those didn't fit into the spiritual framework that had been forced upon me in my childhood. so for a while i rejected religion as i had no touchstone for spirituality other than evangelical christianity and that wasn't vibing with me. in search of truths about the world i overadjusted into the only other thing i knew, science. but this was a white supremacist science, a science borne of experimenting on enslaved women and on black and brown children and of eugenics and the supposed empirical justifications upon which the western white supremacist world has built an "other" against which their superiority might be measured. and so for a while i took the stance of the pessimistic athiest decrying religion and its practitioners, thinking them foolish for having faith in something that couldn't be proven, not realizing that the form of science i believed in was itself far from empirical truth - if such a thing even exists.

at this point i must explain that my mom separated me from any family history i had. growing up i had no access to family outside of the nuclear, no grandparents, no aunties and uncles, no intellectual or spiritual tradition/legacy. and as we all know, white is not a culture. i had nothing in the real world to turn to in order to get me through the most excruciating years of my life. so i turned to the otherwise. and i did not yet have the language to so eloquently explain this connection, but this is the reason i spent my childhood with my nose buried in as many books as i could get my hands on. it was my way of imagining the otherwise, a world where my queerness might not just be okay, but also a source of strength for both myself and those i was in community with. i found spirituality in alagaesia and in charlie bone's world and in the hyperion cantos.

and i found spirituality and meaning in music.

i found it in the orchestral swell of luxury and the lyrics "please don't let my soul drown in luxury"

i found it in wonderland

i found it in community and in something bigger than what i alone had to offer the world

and i found it in the cosmos

i have found it most recently in scholars writing from lived experiences far different from my own. i don't have a label for my spirituality, but i draw from the stages of grieving and healing represented in conocimiento, i draw from nepantla and from the idea of a world weave which i can give into and imbue with love, i draw from anzaldua and from the west africans in kevin dawson's undercurrents of power who found the strength to outwit american slavery through water. training as a historian has put me in close proximity to so many new (to me) ways of being, of loving, of putting good out into the world. i take care to not appropriate, but appreciate, and respectfully draw meaning from the writings and musings and artistic expressions of those who have imagined an otherwise. it is there from which i draw my spirituality.

i write this after years of therapy and reflection, but i truly have an open mind and heart going into this course. there would have been a time where rudy's practice of santeria would have been incongruent with my small and inflexible world view, but that time is long past and i look forward to learning from him and from each of the expressions of life we will encounter in this course.

#Spotify

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saviorfoxowlis · 1 year

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N:Era: Where We Lie Part 6: Breaking the Day

Cyras and Owlis squared off, circling each other like blood-lusting animals looking for an angry fix.

"You made Ahmond's paddling earlier," Cyras shouted at Owlis.

Quicker than before, Cyras leaped at Owlis, but the purple fox scooped her up, and slammed on the tail bone. Drop, buck at the older's jaw, but both feet got slapped away.

Cyras attempted a punch but Owlis knocked back with a headbutt. As the red fox stood up, Owlis hooked her armpit, before swinging her over and slamming her with an arm drag.

With a grunt, back hit flat on the floor.

"Cyras, you really need some other strategy. We've been attempting that same maneuver about fifty times now."

"I told you I was quicker than you and I will keep trying until you believe that."

"I doubt even you believe that," Owlis said, rolling her eyes. "I saw lights were still on in this room. After I had been awestruck you finally figured out the operation of the sophisticated light switch, I knew you were probably plotting."

"Oh, I learned in prison actually, when you threw me in a cell. That makes me the FIRST N:Era member who was thrown in a dungeon, the FIRST."

"Ahmond will be in there like a good little ice cream scoop, and then she'll get whipped like cream, and speaking of being good little girls, I want you in bed."

"I am in bed!" Cyras said.

Cyras was on a chair, which Owlis realized must be where she slept instead of on the actual bed.

"And I was ordering a pizza."

"You'll be fed at the party," Owlis told her. "Also, I see a small sign on your actual bed."

Cyras reached over and held up a picket sign, with red lettering, saying "paddling = no." With the sign up high, she encircled an increasingly annoyed Owlis.

"Paddling doesn't sit well with me.

You only spank for your own glee.

I wanna save Ahmond in the end.

So a paw I will lend.

But I need Owlis under my thumb

Before she goes medieval on her bum!"

Owlis rolled her eyes. "If you try to assault me or coup me again, I will be very annoyed."

Owlis willed off the lights, without flicking the switch, and walked out. Cyras muttered, "If I have to wear that stupid ugly dress tomorrow, I will be vaey annnooooid."

With a snort at her own impression, Cyras got out of bed. She waited five minutes, then jumped through an open window, onto a balcony, and down towards the bridge.

Which is how she found Owlis was still halfway across the bridge linking the towers. Several Twayt sentries flew around, focused on a Crimson with a pizza.

Oh right, she ordered a pizza.

With this many onlookers, she couldn't flame jet for speed. She backed away, and through the window. A couple of knocks and she received her visitor.

The Crimson had a pizza bag.

"I'm not used to guards holding me up so sorry for the delay, but we got here in under thirty minutes."

"Yes, good," Cyras said as she gave him the credit card.

"I'll need cash."

"Okay fine." She rummaged for about a minute and showed him a few gold coins. His eyes widened from the glow and he said, "Why thank you very much, you very generous fox."

Cyras whispered at him, before slipping into his bag. He began walking away, going along with this bribe.

Through the palace, they went, with Owlis not suspecting anything, nor any guards. As the zipper opened, she popped through. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I can now afford an 'I quit' cake for my boss!"

Within a few minutes, Cyras was down in the dungeons.

Ahmond huddled in a corner with Mosor, only to see Cyras. "Cyras, you're here? Are you breaking me out now?"

"Not quite, but look at this." Cyras held up a note. "I got this from the shop where we bought the lie detectors, and the writer Orch is saying he knows about the truth. Daybreak was his brother."

Ahmond bristled her fur. "Is his brother."

Mosor said, "Don't annoy the fox."

"Yeah. But the only problem is, Daybreak is leaving for Canth in a few days, and from what I've heard, Canth isn't part of Civic Lands."

"Canth isn't part of Wysdom," Ahmond corrected her. "So Owlis doesn't rule over Canth, but they have their own queen."

"I'm pretty sure Owlis over ranks Jazmyn."

"Yes, but Jazmyn is still part of the empire," Ahmond said.

Cyras tilted her head.

Ahmond said, "I don't know if I can help."

Cyras grabbed the bars and said, "I've got a plan. As soon as I break you out."

"You know how you'll do that?"

"Not exactly."

Ahmond's ears flattened.

"I'll figure this out."

"Are you sure?"

Cyras said, "As I always told Kryyk, if anyone would hurt you, I'd stab them and bite their face."

She gave her a quick poke on the chest. As Ahmond looked down, she was sniped by a tongue on her nose. The Coywolf almost jumped back in surprise, as Cyras bolted away.

***

Cyras entered the shop where she ordered the lie detectors. The Violet perked up as he saw her.

"Cousin of Empress Owlis, Cyras," Orch said, folding his arms. "I'm guessing you got my note."

"Yes. So, tell me your plan."

Orch said, "After I tell you the truth of Daybreak. My brother created lie detectors and I convinced the shop owner he should sell them here. Never were these more than playtoys. That therein lies the problem. He never advertised these as being insanely accurate, until now, therefore he wasn't really in any legal trouble.

"Daybreak was young, and my parents have always been hard on him after he dropped out of tech school. Well, more like he flunked out of tech school. Anyway, he still makes plenty of inventions and he also passed an advertising class at one point, so despite his appearance, he knows something about charisma."

Cyras' eyes narrowed. "So there's more than just lie detectors."

"My brother fancies himself an inventor of sorts. In reality, I think he's more a toymaker." Orch rested his chin on his claws. "I feel at fault. My dad never treated him well, neither did my mom. By the time I get fired, I'll probably be thrown out on the streets."

Cyras said, "I see, so he's simply struggling. He's like a cornered animal, but now he has power and would rather oppress others and continue the cycle of pain."

"Uh, I can't follow that level of poetry. However, the good news for you is that he's leaving soon for Canth and he'll be moving there."

"The damage here has still been done, and any other inventions he creates will spread around the globe," Cyras told him. "Then he'll probably move somewhere else than Canth, and move from there."

She grabbed the invitation from her bag and showed Orch. "I want him at my birthday party. Can you get him there?"

"Why?"

"I'm exposing him at my party."

"We had a falling out, however..." Orch dialed on his phone, a very small and compact one.

"That looks like a cool phone," Cyras said.

"I call this a cellular, but they won't really catch on, I'm sure," Orch told her dismissively. "Shhh." He put a finger against his lips.

A voice came over. "Orch?"

"I've thought about your offer, and you know what, I'm in."

"...You are?"

Cyras nodded as Orch said, "Yes, I've been thinking, and to be honest, everyone looks down at my shop. You're right. Revenge is a dish best served in cold, metal, truth-detecting fashion, and I heard you're getting invited to Cyras' party."

"I am? But I heard she doesn't even like the lie detectors."

"No no," Orch said, "she uh-"

Cyras mouthed the words: No trust.

"She didn't trust you is what she told me when she was here earlier, but I guess she came around. If you present them at the party, all lingering doubts will be washed away."

"You think she'll go for that?"

"I already asked and she thought that would be a great idea, and you should bring all of your papers and blueprints on lie detectors. She's a Wilder. She's afraid of stuff she can't understand but I'm sure you can explain this in a way she'll know."

Daybreak said, "Orch, I knew I could trust you. You just needed some time. I'm sorry if I was rude at your shop."

"That's okay," Orch said, "I'm sorry as well. Brothers should stick together, though." He hung up.

Orch said, "By the way, here's the secret I was planning on showing you." He told her everything he knew, and Cyras smirked at Orch.

"He won't know what hit him," Cyras said.

#Cyras #Fox #NEra #Ahmond #Lilu

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