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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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YOU’RE LOSING ME — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is struggling to grasp the fact that she and jack have grown apart amongst his newfound nhl stardom

warnings: angst, neglectful jack, dying relationship, long intro (so sorry), alcohol

specific lyrics: “remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light. now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time” and “how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?” and “how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier. fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me. i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me). and i wouldn't marry me either; a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her. and I'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"”

notes: idk how i feel about this. it’s been awhile since i’ve written an actual fic so i think my writing is a little rusty. there will be no part 2 to this one! i know y’all love when i make part 2’s to my angsty fics, but some fics i just wanna keep as angst and this is one of them <3

maybe we were naïve. young and innocent in thinking our love would last forever. that we could withstand everything the universe had to throw at us.

i could give us this; we did last past Jack’s rookie year. but maybe that’s when things started breaking. i couldn’t tell you for certain.

when we moved to New Jersey, we were going on three years into our relationship. we thought that milestone of three years meant we would be together forever.

we went apartment hunting, i opted to go into online schooling rather than on campus classes, late night whispers consisted of marriage and future children.

now, the last time i even brought up marriage, he told me he wasn’t ready for that. that he was at the peak of his career and didn’t want to spend time that could be used bettering his skills, to plan a wedding.

i spend most nights in an empty bed, the cold sheets serving as a harsh reminder that my boyfriend would rather go out with his teammates than spend time with me.

rather than the past early mornings of soft loving stares and cuddling on his bare chest, i now spend my mornings glaring towards my boyfriends sleeping figure; trying to calculate when he may have gotten home after i had already fallen asleep.

seven years. one-third of my life, spent with Jack.

no one ever said love would be easy; but no one ever told me it would be this hard either.

the mug in my hands is at risk of breaking from my grip, the coffee inside having gone cold. a cruel euphemism to how our relationship has cooled. the burning fire that it once was, now fizzling to dying sparks. but i still hold onto what’s left, because i’m not sure i know how to live a life without him anymore.

i sit curled up on the sofa, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the New Jersey skyline. i still remember the day that Jack and i decided on this apartment, this room was a deciding factor. we loved the lighting, the way the sun shone through the windows and cast a golden haze over the rest of the apartment.

now i sit in the darkness nearly every night, wondering if this was the end of our relationship; if it’s time.

the worst part is that we keep going on. keep playing house. pretending that our relationship is still as happy as it once was.

‘i love you’s never became a rarity, still uttered past our lips multiple times a day. but i know his words only hold an empty promise now.

how can he say he loves me when he can’t tell that this relationship is killing me?

that this dynamic of our relationship becoming a chore has slowly broken me down?

our life is robotic now. we wake up, he leaves for practice, i stay home, i do school, he comes home for a pre-game nap, he leaves for a game, i still stay home, i go to bed, he comes home, repeat.

even worse when he’s away. what once started as facetime calls whenever he was free on a roadie, slowly died until it’s nothing but a few measly unsubstantial texts.

at first i thought maybe we were just going through a rough patch, that we would get through this, but now i fear we won’t.

***

my eyes track my boyfriend at the crowded rooftop bar as i nod my head, only half paying attention to what Ryleigh says.

Nico’s surprise party has been a success. for Nico, at least.

i, selfishly, thought i would use this party as an opportunity to grasp Jack’s attention. i wore the dress that he used to say was his favorite, but not once did he mention it. i curled my hair because i knew how much he loved it, but he didn’t compliment it how he usually does. i dolled myself up in hopes that it would glue him to my side. maybe even spark that possessiveness he used to hold for me.

but instead, all i got was a measly and empty ‘hey babe, you look nice.’ when i arrived, before he chased Dawson down to discuss some new bar he wanted to check out after their next win.

i spent the next hour following him around like a lost puppy, standing by his side as he spoke to his teammates. if he hadn’t had his hand resting on my lower back, i would’ve thought he forgot i was there. but somehow being forgotten would’ve felt better than being ignored.

i’m the best thing at this party, or at least i should be to him, and he barely spared me a second glance.

eventually, i saltily left to find the other wives and girlfriends. for the past three hours now, i sit with Ryleigh and Darya. Ryleigh is currently recounting she and Dawson’s date night last night.

the party has been dwindling down, our group of people among the bar slowly dispersing, giving their final birthday wishes to Nico and going home.

“what about you and Jack?”

“hmm?” i perk up at the mention of my boyfriend, dragging my line of sight away from said boy and back towards my friends.

“i asked about you and Jack. when was your guys’ last date night? how was it?” Ryleigh is only trying to be polite, i know that. but she’s only reminded me that Jack and i haven’t gone on a date in what has to be at least six months.

“honestly? i couldn’t tell you.” i confess. “i don’t even remember the last time we went on a date.”

“well, that’s not right! we should do a double date soon! i’ll have Dawson set it up.” she smiles. “ooh triple date! you and Yegor should come!”

“we’d love that!” Darya chimes in. i let out a polite smile, but i know it won’t happen. i’ve tried too many times to set up a date night and nothing ever comes from it.

“hey, baby. you ready to go?” Dawson saunters over, planting a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Ryleigh nods, bidding Darya and i goodbye.

“hey, y/n? i think Jack was looking for you.” Yegor tells me as he comes over next, gathering his wife to leave for the night.

“he was?” my voice is filled with a pathetic hope, an excitement over even the thought of my boyfriend seeking me out. but when i look back to where i last saw him, he still stands next to his captain, laughing over something one of them said. “thanks, Shara.”

he smiles, the both of them now saying their goodbyes. and then there was one.

i sit by myself, lazily chewing the straw in my drink as i watch my boyfriend and his friend.

i quickly lose track of how long i sit there, ordering drink after drink. eventually, i stop watching Jack, opting for mindlessly scrolling through instagram instead.

“hey.” my head snaps up at Jack’s voice, watching as he finally joins me. my heart thumps in my chest, like i’m a teenager again, at the thought of spending time with him. “i think i’m ready to head home.”

my mood deflates, my shoulders slumping, but i nod, gathering my purse as Jack sets some cash on the bar top to cover my drinks from the night.

i wobble slightly as i stand, Jack’s hand coming up to hold onto my arm, making sure i don’t fall. heat spreads from the site of the touch, shivers racking my body.

“you okay, babe?” he chuckles, pulling me into his side as we walk to the elevator, pressing the down button and waiting for it to arrive. “how much did you drink?”

“i don’t know. maybe three? i lost count after the first hour alone.” i shrug, my words are slurred, a product of my tipsy state. “i started off with sprite, but i switched to gin and tonics once Darya left.”

Jack is silent as we get into the elevator, his brows furrowed and him seemingly in deep thought. the whole ride home is quiet, the air charged. i spend the whole drive with my head turned to look out the window. but as soon as we reach the parking deck of our apartment, getting out of his Range Rover, he speaks up again.

“you could’ve come and found me? i was just with Nico.” i’m silent for a moment, picking up my pace to try and reach apartment faster.

“i didn’t feel like being ignored again.” i shrug as we step through the door, the alcohol giving me obvious courage that i never had before.

“what do you mean ‘again’? i haven’t ignored you.” Jack follows behind me into our bedroom, his eyes tracking me as i sit on the bed and begin unfastening my heels.

“stop.” i sigh.

“stop what? y/n/n, when have i ignored you?” his genuine obliviousness hurts more than i thought it could. the fact that he didn’t even realize he was ignoring me; that it was just a subconscious reaction for him to push me aside.

“every day.” i tell him. my eyes start stinging with tears, finally ready to have the fight that i’ve so desperately been avoiding. but it’s obvious that Jack doesn’t feel the same.

“i’m sorry you felt that way.” he tells me, barely sparing another glance my way before he starts grabbing pajamas out of the dresser.

“you’re losing me.” my words are choked out in a whisper, but i know he hears them because i watch as he stiffens, slowly turning around.

“what?”

“Jack, this doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore. it feels like a job. a chore.” i confess. “it doesn’t feel like you love me anymore and i need you to just say it. because i love you too much to keep going on like this.”

“y/n-”

“we barely talk, Jack.” i cut him off. “when we do, we’re struggling through empty small talk. you’re barely home, and when you are, you don’t try and spend time with me. i sit in this house, alone, even when you’re here.”

“what are you talking about? y/n, we’ve been together for almost seven years. we’ve been through so much together.” his words are harsh, defensive.

“exactly! i gave you all my best me’s- i gave you my teenage years, i gave you all of my best years! i gave you all my empathy when you were being called a bust. when you were struggling in your rookie year and at your lowest. i sat here and comforted you after every loss! i stayed here and cried and tried to be brave every time you were gone. i defended you to everyone!”

tears roll freely down my cheeks, my nose becoming stuffy and my throat tightening. i’ve risen from the bed now, still keeping my distance from him though.

“and what do i have to show for it? an empty apartment? an empty relationship? we used to spend hours talking about marriage and our future. now, the last time i tried to bring that up, you all but told me you didn’t want to marry me.” i scoff. “and i can’t blame you, i wouldn’t marry me either; a pathological people pleaser.”

“don’t say that, please.” he whispers.

“but all i wanted was for you to see me, Jack! i’m here! i have feelings! i know it’s hard to believe, but i’m a person too! i need love! not whatever this has been.” my words fade off at the end, breaking off into sobs.

Jack’s eyes are red, tears of his own slowly descending as we stand in silence.

“do something, please. say something.” i plead, furiously wiping at my tears. i swallow a lump in the throat as he finally takes a step forward.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is shaky, breaking midst sentence. “i’m so sorry i didn’t know you were feeling this way. i’ve been so wrapped up in hockey and the team that i haven’t been here. not fully, at least.

“i took you for granted. i guess you’ve been this dependable force in my life for so long that eventually i forgot that you need more than just my presence.

“i do love you, y/n. i can’t imagine my life without you. i’ll be better, i promise. just, please, don’t leave.” he begs.

Jack steps forward, closing the distance between us and taking my face in his hands.

“i need you. i’ll always choose you.” his hands shake on my cheeks as he pulls me into a kiss. he pulls away, heaving out a broken mix between a sigh and a sob. “i’m so so sorry.”

“we can fix us. i believe that. but please, don’t put me through this again.” i beg, laying my forehead against his.

“never.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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fatalism-and-villainy · 10 months

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Thinking more on this discussion -

I was going to say, “Will always acts up, not down” - i.e. doesn’t manipulate through pretending to be weaker and more vulnerable than he actually is. But that’s not strictly true - there’s the example of his faked tears for Hannibal and Alana while he’s in prison. (Do let me know if I’m missing some other example that would go against this argument.)

But I do think it’s true overall. When Will is manipulating others, putting on a front, etc, he’s nearly always acting confident and assured. In season 1, it’s established that he’s uncomfortable with being perceived as vulnerable, both because he’s used to being pathologized and treated as a spectacle and because he’s not used to people sticking around (“abandonment requires expectation” and all that). His dynamic with Jack is interesting in that regard, because he does open up to Jack and level with him about the work being bad for him, at the end of Coquilles. When that doesn’t go over well, by the time Jack expresses concern over him in Buffet Froid, Will’s instinct is to downplay and minimize what’s going on, and then later get angry when Jack tries to take responsibility for him and (in his mind) impinge upon his agency. His dynamic with Hannibal in some ways operates the same way - he opens up to Hannibal about what he’s dealing with, and asks him for help. The rarity of this gesture from Will makes Hannibal’s betrayal and manipulation hit all the harder, and he slams that door shut with Hannibal (well… temporarily).

The kiss with Alana is an early example of Will putting on a show of confidence around others - he freaks out over hallucinating the animal in the wall, but then puts on a show of suave bravado with Alana. It’s only later that he clarifies the kiss was a desperate attempt to grasp at emotional stability and safety. Around other people, his instinct is to act more confident and collected than he actually is, and downplay his fears and vulnerabilities. And even letting it show that he needs help takes a massive amount of trust.

His deliberate manipulation of others in season 2 constitutes a shift in his demeanor, but it does follow the same patterns he’s already cultivated in his behaviour. With the exception of the faked tears (I can only assume he did that because he knew it would be the most effective approach with Alana - and then later on, the landscape of their relationship changes such that it would no longer be convincing), in his interactions with others while in prison (Chilton, Freddie Lounds, Matthew Brown, Jack later on) he’s very outwardly articulate and assured, while internally haunted by disturbing visions. And he carries that demeanor into his interactions with Hannibal once he’s out of prison.

In contrast to Hannibal, who plays the wounded bird a little bit with Jack and Alana in season 2, or Bedelia, who portrays herself as a helpless victim of Hannibal to avoid being taken as an accomplice, or arguably Abigail as well, who plays up her (real) fear so as to avoid suspicion, Will doesn’t usually portray himself as weak or helpless so as to appear innocent or drum up sympathy.

(Honestly, this is why Chilton gets Will so wrong in the court scene in Hassun, when he says that “the confused man” that Will presents to the world is “a fiction” - Will doesn’t generally project confusion or uncertainty to manipulate! He cares much less about appearing nonthreatening than appearing in control. The prickly and reserved attitude he has at the beginning of the show reflects this - his priorities are not with avoiding people finding him odd or offputting, but with preventing himself from being overwhelmed with people’s emotions, and losing control of his impulses.)

It isn’t that the persona he assumes in season 2 isn’t “the real him” - it draws on traits he actually has, and he expresses things he’s genuinely thinking and feeling during his sessions with Hannibal. But it’s used to mask his uncertainty, internal conflict, and emotional volatility. (Truly one of Will’s most fascinating contrasts is the way he’s outwardly very composed and firm in his convictions, while inwardly being extraordinarily conflicted and prone to doing a complete 180 on his intentions at the last minute.)

All of this is to say:

a) Will coming to lean more into his capacity to be a killer, and more actively deploying his ability to manipulate others, are key developments in his character arc, but his method of channeling those in his engagement with others is not new, it’s an extension of the kind of social performance and self-protecting impulses he’s already developed, and

b) Will’s behaviour towards Hannibal specifically, during the latter half of season 2, is a consequence of Will not feeling secure or emotionally safe around Hannibal. (This is for multiple reasons - righteous anger at Hannibal, the need to hide his deception from Hannibal, the fear that he himself is enjoying this little charade far too much and has to hold himself back from giving in, etc.)

Will wasn’t putting all his cards on the table with Hannibal in season 2, and hadn’t given himself over to him completely. Post-WOTL, he has. So I imagine a post-canon dynamic would feature Will being more willing to let his guard down around Hannibal, and more willing to once again be emotionally vulnerable with him. I don’t think the subtle antagonism would ever fully go away (just go dormant), because they do love pushing each other and testing the limits of each others’ behaviour. But I want to think Will himself would be much more relaxed than he is in late season 2, because they have a much more authentic relationship now.

#hannibal meta #will graham #hannigram #my meta #hannibal #hannibal talk

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aqueeracademic · 6 months

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Gayest House Scenes:

Season 1:

Unfortunately, episodes 1-4 didn’t have quite the quality of gayness I was looking for. We begin at 5:

Season 1, Episode 5: “Damned if You Do”

W: Maybe I'll come to your place.

H: Your wife doesn’t mind being alone on Christmas?

W: I’m a doctor. She’s used to being alone.

H: …

W: I don’t wanna talk about it.

H: Neither do I.

Note: and then Wilson ACTUALLY FUCKING WENT TO HOUSE’S PLACE FOR CHRISTMAS. and House played the piano for him and they ate chinese food because neither of them celebrate christmas at all, actually; they just wanted to be together. They just wanted to be together during the season of love and family. I'm so sick.

Season 1, Episode 6: “The Socratic Method”

Foreman: I thought he liked rationality.

Wilson: He likes puzzles.

H: You think I’m crazy.

W: Well, yeah. But that’s not the problem.

Season 1, Episode 7: “Fidelity”

W: Oh. That’s what breasts look like.

H: You love everyone. That’s your pathology.

W: *watches House leave longingly”

Cameron: Did he just turn on the TV?

Wilson: He needs to think.

W: That’s all! I mean it.

H: You always do. It’s part of your charm.

W: I love my wife.

H: You love saying it.

Season 1, Episode 12: “Sports Medicine”

H: You thought I couldn’t handle this news?

W: …

H: You talk to her a lot?

W: No. It’s been a long time. Look, if you don’t want me to see her-

H: What is this, eighth grade? I’m fine.

W: It’s fine if you’re upset!

H: No! It’s- I have no right to be upset. You two are friends. You should see her.

Season 1, Episode 14: “Control”

W: Since when do I need the secret code to talk to you?

H: You value our friendship more than your ethical responsibilities?

W: Our friendship is an ethical responsibility.

Note: that asshole chairman figured out he couldn’t threaten House, so he threatened Wilson's job instead to keep House in line. I’m sick?

Season 1, Episode 17: “Role Model”

W: House, I believe you’re a Romantic.

Season 1, Episode 18: “Babes and Bathwater”

Note: Wilson didn’t vote House out. and the chairman was so offended he decided to fire Wilson instead. Wilson fr put his whole career on the line, knowingly, to make sure House could stay. I'm SO SICK.

W: I got sacked.

H: Did you make a pass at Cuddy? I told you, she only has thighs for me.

W: …I voted to keep you.

H: Is he gonna sack everyone who votes to keep me around?

W: Yes. Every one of us.

H: …Just you?

W: Yeah.

W: I have no kids. My marriage is all messed up. I only have two things that work for me: This job and this stupid, screwed up friendship. And neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech.

H: They matter. If I could do it all again…

W: You’d do the same thing.

H: Nice job protecting me! You saved my ass by sacking Wilson?

Note: House lets Wilson sit in his chair and doesn’t make him move. He makes everyone else move. He doesn’t make Wilson move.

Season 1, Episode 19: “Kids”

W: My advice is much more simple: stop being an ass. You always find some tiny little flaw to push people away.

H: Now it’s people? I thought we were talking about applicants.

W: You have a history of this.

Note: When Wilson tells house he’s “going to end up alone”, House just stares at him. i am WELL AWARE they were discussing women, but they were discussing why House always pushes women away. and then Wilson tells him he’s gonna be alone and House just stares at him???? like stares at him like he just said something both crazy and hurtful???? like he thought he would have Wilson in the end????

Season 1, Episode 20: “Love Hurts”

H: He peed on me. I’m not into that.

W: It’s apple juice! Now, go apologize.

Note: House immediately does what he’s told and finds the patient he yelled at.

W: I just want to make sure no one gets hurt.

Cameron: I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m going out with Jack the Ripper.

W: Oh, it’s not… it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s been a long time since he opened up to someone, and I… you better be absolutely sure that you want this, because if he opens up again and gets hurt… I don’t think there’s gonna be a next time.

C: You’re worried I’m gonna break his heart?

W: …

H: This is a mistake. I don’t know how to have a casual conversation.

*Wilson rolls eyes*

Note: Why the literal hell would Wilson be at House’s place helping him get ready? Helping him with his tie? i’m sick.

Note: “What I am is what you need. I’m damaged.” HELLLLOOOOOO????????? i’m gonna eat my hands

Season 1, Episode 21: “Three Stories”

Note: “I’m not busy. But I’m not sure I want him to live.” HELLO IM GONNA JUMP OUT THE WINDOW??????????

Season 1, Episode 22: “Honeymoon”

Note: “Some part of me hopes that he’ll die. I’m just not sure if it’s because I want to be with her, or if it’s because I want her to suffer.” HELLLLOOOOOOO????????? This line just sniped me from behind.

Note: Stacey and I actually have SO MUCH beef. She better watch her back.

Note: “I thought you were too screwed up to love anyone. I was wrong. You just couldn’t love me.” As wack as I think Cameron’s relationship with House is, this line killed me.

Note: The audacity of Stacey to tell House she’s still in love with him and always will be just to tell him she won’t be with him?? Like what is actually wrong with you. Let my boy catch a BREAK.

#here it is #season 1 #all done!#they are so #gay #house #house md #gregory house #james wilson #wilson x house #house x wilson

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trash-can-sam · 5 months

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There is something so delicious abt the intertwining of failure and success when it comes to the narratives of pathologic.

Daniil enters the town a success, a celebrity doctor, well know and well liked, desperate to save his lab and secure funding but ultimately it isn’t the end of his life if the Hail Mary doesn’t turn out- he still might find a way to save it. Even though the details are uncertain, Daniil Dankovsky enters the town mostly a success. Artemy enters the town hated, suspected of patricide, denied his inheritance, in p2 he didn’t get the degree his father wished of him (it was more about the actual learning than the degree but still) because he was drafted into the war. His old friends dislike him and all hate eachother, by all metrics, Artemy Burakh enters the town a complete failure.

However, even when Daniil gets the Utopian ending, his entire time in the Town is a never ending cycle of little victories that ultimately end in failures. He barely does jack shit, even his medicine sucks ass and doesn’t work. He’s technically the only person here with a medical degree even if both Rubin and Artemy are qualified, yet he functions as a bureaucrat most the time. Even if he gets the utopian ending, he still has failed to save his lab and his old life, it’s all still in ashes.

In Daniils quests, even the ones you do well, half the time it still feels like you’re losing. Daniils story is the story of a man who lost everything he held dear in the span of 2 weeks, the entire time getting punched in the balls.

However, Artemy, even though he enters the town as a failure, retakes his place. He manages to disprove his guilt, he finds his fathers murderer, takes his revenge, he takes his rightful place in the kin (debatable how much he wanted to but like, he didn’t want literally anything so yk), he reunites his friends, his medicine is so good, even when you’re playing as Daniil it’s THE most useful medicine you can create by far. HE ADOPTS CHILDREN FOR FUCKS SAKE.

If Daniil wins, he’s destroyed the town and the people will forever hate him for taking it away. If Artemy wins, he’s the town hero, the one who successfully filled his fathers shoes and saved the town from a deadly outbreak.

Does Daniil deserve such a title for his ending? Absolutely not lmao, he’s an outsider afterall. This was never his world to come in on, merely all he had left. But it’s simply showing how Daniil is doomed to be a failure, and Artemy has the chance of being a hero.

AND the way this feeds into burakovsky is great I feel, the town hero and the disgraced doctor. The one who had it all and lost it all vs the one who lost it all and gained so much more than he ever could’ve expected. Not to say Artemy has only won, but he comes out of the outbreak with far more of a purpose and direction in life, he has a job to do. Daniil has nothing at all, the closest thing being his old friends who spend all their nights drinking away their lives mourning the dream of Utopia. Artemy has set up the future of the town, the children who will ultimately succeed him. Daniil has lost the closest thing he had to a child as well as his own hope.

The story of Daniil is getting beat into the ground where the story of Artemy is climbing your way out of the pits of hell. And idk. I think. I just think it’s fun. (AND both of these things do LITERALLY happen- with Daniil getting the shit beat out of him in the abattoir and whenever you talk to Clara before Artemy jumps in the pit. Or in p2 whenever it’s arguably even more clear that he jumps in a glowing red pit and makes his way out of the bowels of the earth yk)

#Daniil saying he’s used to winning is such a cruel joke when his whole route is him repeatedly losing over and over again #before eventually losing himself #ITS SO GOOD. I just love how you never feel like you’re winning as Daniil. it’s fascinating.#he gives me so many feelings #truly a man doomed by the narrative #I fear this is mostly nonsense but hey #first pathologic text post #innane ramblings #probably relatively milque toast observations but whatever #daniil dankovsky #pathologic #pathologic 2 #artemy burakh #wont tag burakovsky because I don’t go into much depth but know it is about them in that way.#and yes I mix p1 and 2 events with little regard for how much sense it makes- sue me #I make my own canon

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bringmefoxgloves · 9 months

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i want to get more into saw/saw blogs b4 X comes out - what r some of ur fave saw blogs

Hi! You caught me at a good time (one where I have energy) so let's see if I can pump this out. I am in no way an authority on the entire Saw fandom so I will only be talking about my little corner of the internet. Please forgive me, my beloved followers, mutuals, and other owners of posts I have loved in this very small fandom-because I may forget some of you. The brain fog sometimes gets the best of me and if I did a full complete list, it would be.... It would be so long. This is in no way in order of best or worst, and sometimes I just have no words for why I love a person's blog.

@turnipoddity - Oh, what an artist! Every single post I see, love it. So excited to see an artist acquiring the Saw brainrot.

@bloodcoveredgf - Luna! Also just all around funny & good posts in addition to the Saw insanities.

@dracofelin - Jay has such good writing, and will make you love the ship of Mark Hoffman/Peter Strahm (coffinshipping).

@thefoulbeast - Simply put, Will's art makes me want to bite my own arm off. If you're interested in the video game Pathologic, his blog is worth a follow for that too.

@bathroomtrapped - I sometimes get the honor of previewing Larry's art mid-construction (because with all those colors and layers, it looks like building a house) and even half finished, it blows my socks off <3

@sawtrapz - Kaz, oh Kaz (!!!), Kaz gets my brain clicking about some of the rarepairs of this fandom and I will always spin your boygirl Adam in my head.

@cl0wnb0yyy - Will is just a great person in the fandom, also if you like Midnight Mass or NBC's Hannibal.

@ispyspookymansion - Kora looms large in the Saw fandom in my mind so it would be impossible to assemble this list without him.

@3razyswfangirl / @kiramillet - Kira's pixel art is amazing!!! Bunny <3

@tibby - Take a look through Tibby's saw meta. You won't be disappointed.

@allegedly-writer - Contrary to Jack's url, Jack can sure damn write! He just posted a fic and guess who it's for <3

@hansy-pansy-art - OUGH another amazing amazing artist. Also currently in a Red Dead Redemption moment, which I love.

@piddgeon - Speaking of RDR.... Mercury! Ah, just. (Chef's kiss) of a human being.

@samwis - Jami, who hears all my most insane horny thoughts who is such a mainstay in my corner of Saw fandom.

@romanromulus - Adam writes fics that will make you scream and cry into your pillow at midnight.

@tapeworrmart - Just. Ough. Art that I dream of one day hanging on my wall.

@vanilladella - a.m.'s art is my discord header. Enough said.

@carouselcometh - Remy is hilarious and also you need to read his series on Ao3.

@onehandkilling / @fatmasc - Shlomo... What do I say? Just go. Follow. Also threw in their fat fashion blog because YES!!!

@angel-trapped - Téa, you absolute legend. Origin of angelshipping (to me) (aka Lindsey Perez/Allison Kerry)

@sawtrapx - Liv, such a fun human being!!!

@starlightsailfish - Star's Saw Warrior Cats makes me dance in excitement.

@iinsawdious - Adrien is the best champion of the Adam & David (Saw 0.5) & Specs (Character from the Insidious franchise, also played by Leigh Whannell) are family hc. I love his enthusiasm!!

@adrianicsea - Adrian! Just. AH!!! Adrian's Sleeping with Ghosts series was perhaps my first introduction (outside of Adam romanromulus) to the sheer brilliance of Saw fandom writers.

@dodddraws - Dodd's art is.... I'm just at a loss for words, scrolling back through his blog. So much nsfw goodness.

@sawvhs - Rar's art is so so so iconic.

Okay I have to cut this list off here, jfc. There's others I should probably put on here but I'm getting tired and sweaty and my hands are hurting. Follow these people, check who they're reblogging from or who is reblogging them, go forth, prosper anon. Welcome to the Saw brainrot.

#wes says things back #jfc did i just do a follow forever in the year of our lord 2023? guess i did #if you do not follow me and i tagged you... i'm sorry for popping up in your notes.#just want to share your brilliance in the saw fandom out there

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gretavanlace · 2 years

Text

Missing Buttons (Part 2)

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, alcohol consumption, fingering (female rec), oral sex (male rec), dacryphilia (for like a second), soft but not quite soft dom, etc

*HUGE shoutout to @loveforighteous whose absolutely sinful ask inspired this. The moment I saw it I knew I was saving it for Missing Buttons Josh. Thank you darling, you’re an angel! ❤️ Everyone go follow her and show some love!

Part 1

“Hey, you up?” Josh’s hand ghosts up and down your bare back, trailing a shivering line along your spine as the sun begins to crawl into the room.

Taking advantage of the fact that he can’t see your eyes, you feign sleep and take a moment to drink in your surroundings in the muted, purple light of dawn.

The movie posters tacked neatly to the walls. A strange, eclectic assortment of silver screen alumni: Apocalypse Now, The Grand Budapest Hotel, 12 Angry Men (where did he even find that one?). The Shining – a gift from you, ordered after you’d caught a rescreening of it at the Emagine theater together years ago, and a framed replica of the original promotional poster for 2001: A Space Odyssey. Another gift from you. Christmas? Or perhaps his birthday, you can’t really remember any longer.

Items scattered along his shelves act as dusty artifacts, reminders of the common life he left behind. Props he cared enough to save from various school productions…and while it isn’t displayed, you happen to know that the vest you’d sewn your button to all those years ago, is safely stored away in the bottom of his chest of drawers. Josh has always been sentimental at his core. A wistful soul who sometimes wore his heart on his sleeve, fully displayed and vulnerable; and sometimes tucked it away, hidden and viciously protected when he felt the potential for hurt.

His soft laugh pulls you from your thoughts. “I know you’re awake, Button. You stopped snoring.”

“I don’t snore.” you protest weakly. Of course you snore, and you know it.

“I know you don’t. I lie about the dumbest things. It’s pathological. I should seek help.” he humors, raking his fingers gently through your hair. “Scoot closer, wanna cuddle up to you.”

“Joshua Kiska,” you grin sleepily, tucking into him as you’ve been asked. “Do you treat all of your conquests so sweetly? Do the groupies get the royal treatment like this? Or do you light up a cigarette and tell them to close the door on their way out in true rockstar fashion?”

He wraps his body around yours, a warm and lovely big spoon to make you feel cherished and safe. “Well I tend to send them out as a group afterward. Fifteen or twenty of ‘em head out and let the next batch in as they go.”

“I see.” you smile, pulling his arm tighter around you. “Sounds tiring.”

“Oh, it’s exhausting.” he sighs. “But it’s very rock and roll. I snort cocaine off their asses and guzzle Jack while they blow me, and then out comes the mud shark.”

A laugh, much too loud for the early hour, bursts out of you as you smack his arm “You’re fucking vile!”

“I’m vile?” he laughs along with you. “Why do you even know that story?”

“Everyone knows that story…” you’re softly playing with his fingers now, and thinking about sucking them into your mouth. “Do you think it’s true?”

“Doubt it. Vanilla Fudge claimed it was them, and not Zeppelin. Though they did say Bonham was around and watched the whole thing go down. I personally think they all just thought the rumor was too absurd to dispel.” He has resumed lightly caressing your arm as though he’s whispering the sweetest nothings of love into your ear, rather than discussing the most infamously disgusting groupie tale to ever travel through the veins of the music industry.

“This is all just so romantic.” You tease.

“I think it is, actually.” he pecks a soft kiss upon your shoulder. “Being here with you, all wrapped up, talking about nothing, in the quiet while everyone else sleeps? Yeah, I think it’s very romantic.”

“Josh…” you can’t manage to say much more around the lump in your throat.

“Let’s run away today.” he suggests, that unmistakable Joshua excitement creeping into his tone. “Just for the night. I can take you somewhere nice. We’ll order room service, get wasted off the minibar and fuck each other in a bed big enough to roll around in, in a room where I don’t have to keep you quiet.”

“You know where I really want you to take me?” You’re thankful to be turned away from him so he can’t see the blush rising on your cheeks. “If you’re serious about going somewhere tonight…”

“Of course I’m serious,” he strokes his fingers down the curve of your hip. “Where? Not to be that guy, but money is no object. I hear Iceland is beautiful this time of year.”

You swat his hand, “Shut up, Kiszka. Take me to that place on Wiess St.”

He stutters out a comical sound as if he’s a cartoon character, “The Frankenmuth Motel? What the fuck, Button? Are you serious? That place is a shit hole.”

You try your hardest to hide the snark in your tone, but fail. “It was nice enough for you and Madison Cates.”

“Madison Ca–” he interrupts himself with an obnoxious laugh and rolls you over to face him. He beams down at your scrunched up face with a wildly pleased expression and glittering eyes. “My sweet little Button, are you jealous?”

You avoid his gaze and tug one of his curls in gentle punishment for embarrassing you. “No.”

“Yes you are.” he sing-songs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Fine. Maybe. But only because I went to that dance with some guy you couldn’t have paid me to spend the night in a motel with.”

“You went with Jake.” he points out.

“Like I said.” You nod.

“You wanna know what happened between Maddie and I at the Frankenmuth?” he whispers, dragging his finger soothingly down the bridge of your nose.

You feel horrified “Absolutely not. I’d rather shove bamboo shoots underneath my fingernails.”

“Always knew you had a flare for drama.” he pecks at your nose, still petting it. “We get to the room…”

“Josh!” you snap.

“Would you just shut up and listen?” he teases, lips now brushing over yours. “We get there and she’s just all over me, but not really in a good way, kinda sloppy. Still, I’m 17, so I’m not complaining.”

“Wow, this is painting a lovely picture for me,” you deadpan, “I don’t feel like punching you at all.”

“She stumbles her way along until she’s on her knees in front of me, and I’m losing it, thinking I’m about to get my first blow job. Like, this is it, right?” his mouth is peppering kisses along your jaw.

“Josh, stop.” you feel like you could cry…the yarn he’s weaving is sickening.

He continues on like you haven’t spoken a word. “When she finally gets her hands on the button of my pants and looks up at me, her face is literally green. I thought that was just something people said. She couldn’t get up fast enough so she just puked right there at my feet. Half of it ended up on my dress shoes, had to rinse it out of the cuffs of my pants in the sink.”

“But you said…”

“No, I didn’t.” he protests, licking softly at your neck. “You all just assumed. I never argued because I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone. I fell asleep that night in a room that smelled like vomit, thinking about you.”

“That’s the grossest compliment I’ve ever been paid.” you giggle, relieved that the night you had stewed over for years, had played out much differently than you’d imagined.

“I aim to please.” He teases, rolling his hips to grind into your thigh..

“How about I finish what our poor Madison started, hmm?” you curl your tongue over his jawline and reach down between the two of you to take him in your fist.

“Yeah?” the word shudders out of him as he thrusts gently into your grip. “You want me in your mouth?”

“Come on, Josh…” you urge, sounding a little more desperate than you care for.

He allows you to push him away and roll with his body until he’s on his back and you’re balanced on top of him, but as you begin to kiss your way down his chest, a soft knock on the bedroom door stops your heart.

“Go away!” Josh hisses toward the intrusion.

“Josh!” you admonish in a nearly silent whisper.

“It’s Jake.” he sighs, twin telepathy on full display.

The knock comes again, more insistent this time.

“Get away from my door, Jake, or I swear to god...”

“No,” Jake’s fervent reply comes quietly. “Sam’s not in his bed. I need Button.”

Your eyes go wide, but Josh appears unbothered. “She’s in Ronnie’s room.”

“I’m not stupid, or deaf. My bedroom was right next to yours last night just like it always is, idiot. We share a wall.” Jake sounds hungover and frustrated. “Button, seriously…help!”

You pull yourself off of Josh, batting his hands away when they reach for you, and tug his old, threadbare robe from its hook and around your body before swinging the door open.

It’s time for Jake’s eyes to go wide this time, when you yank him into the room. “Would you pipe down before you wake everyone up?”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” he taunts, a sly grin spreading across his face as you reach forward to smooth down his tangled bed-head. “Button, I’m crushed…I always thought it would be you and me, and here you are, breaking my heart in two with my lesser half.”

“Jacob.” you roll your eyes with a deep sigh, he isn’t serious in the least, you’re a sister to him. He’s just never been able to resist a jab where he sees opportunity.

“Yeah, yeah…” he rolls his eyes in return. “You could do better, though. Anyway, Sam?”

“Did you check the floor between his bed and the wall?” you ask, eyes on Josh as he stares up at the ceiling, hands cradled casually behind his head like this is the most normal scene in the world.

“Yep.”

“Okay,” you pause, trying to think like Sammy. “The basement? Maybe he went down to pester Danny?”

Jake frowns, “Checked there too.”

“How do you four survive on tour without me?” you sigh in annoyance. They are children.

“Barely, and with great struggle. You should come along and be our tour mother.” he eyes slide over to his twin. “Josh, I’m sure you’d be into that, you’ve got that whole ‘mama’ thing going on.”

“Lets not forget that my bunk is located directly above yours, Jacob.” Josh quips back, turning his gaze to you with a wink. “You wanna get on his good side? Call him Sir.”

As you watch an uncharacteristic blush crawl up Jake’s neck, it suddenly dawns on you in a flash of genius “The back deck. He likes the cedar smell and the crickets underneath. Bet he woke up and stumbled out there last night.”

“You’re a fuckin’ legend, Button.” Jake plants a kiss on your forehead and hurries off to check on his little brother, though he claims to be too cool to really care.

“Come back to bed, my love.” Josh smiles from his stretched out perch, but just before you can close the door, you catch sight of Karen rounding the corner in the hall.

“Morning, sweetie,” she’s dressed and put together, ready to tackle her day. “Come help me in the kitchen? If we don’t feed them, they’ll start downing Coronas for sustenance.”

“Gonna do that anyway, ma.” Josh calls out as you pull his door closed.

Karen says nothing about the bedroom you’ve been in that clearly isn’t Ronnie’s, nor does she comment on your robe — or rather, Josh’s robe — and you thank God for small favors as you pad along behind her to help cook for the crowd.

Later, he catches you as you're leaving the bathroom, once again swaddled in his robe after your shower.

Slipping his hand under the worn terry cloth, he snakes his arm around your waist, lips tickling across the shell of your ear. “Get dressed and meet me at the car in ten. I’m stealing you away to the Bates Motel where we will both surely be murdered in the shower.”

“Oh, you do know how to sweep a girl off her feet, don’t you, Kiszka?” you tease back, pulling him in a little closer.

“Mhmm,” he nuzzles your ear again. “Did you know that Psycho was the first film to feature a toilet flushing?”

“Romance and dirty talk? Yes, please. Say more things about bathroom fixtures.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You like that? Gonna plug the sink at the motel, fill it with ice, and use it to keep our drinks cold, baby. Does that do it for you?”

“Get the hell out of here…” you laugh, shoving him off, “I don’t even want to go with you now.”

“Sure you don’t,” he lands a gentle swat on your ass and then starts off down the hall. “Ten minutes, love.”

He drops your bags at his feet and surveys the room with a deep breath, hands on his hips. “I can’t believe I brought you here. Do you have a Hepatitis kink, Button? Shag carpeting? Bed bugs?”

“Hepatitis.” you answer seriously, though clearly joking, “and don’t kink shame me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Wait’ll I let you in on a couple of mine.”

You plop down on the bed and watch him amble around the time capsule of a room. “Yeah? Are you just a sexual deviant underneath it all?”

“Yes.” he confirms matter of factly as he examines the clunky, straight out of the 80’s, television.

“Really?” you can’t help the giddy curiosity edging into your tone, “So tell me, what is my sweet, innocent, Joshua into?”

His eyes find yours, lips pursed to suppress a smirk, when he sees the inquisitiveness in your gaze, “I’m afraid I’ll have to reveal my secrets slowly, love. Wouldn’t want to scare you off.”

He holds your stare and you sink into his chocolate eyes until he startles you out of your daze with a sharp clap. “Alright, I’m going to get ice.” Yanking the plastic bucket off the dresser, he disappears with a casual, “Be right back.” as though you’ve been discussing the weather.

When he returns, he pretends he doesn’t notice that you’ve slipped into a t-shirt stolen from his bag. He ignores the way the fabric is stretched thin and tight over your breasts, in favor of dangling you on a string a little longer as he dumps the ice into the sink and begins shoving bottles of Killians down into the cubes.

“Some guy tried to sell me meth out there.” He calls over his shoulder as he works.

You roll your eyes with a smile, “That didn’t happen.”

“Yes it did.” he straightens and dries his hand on a questionable looking towel. “And before you ask; yes, I copped some, and no, I will not share. Get your own.”

“You’re so dumb.” you take the beer he holds out and then pull him close by the wrist, landing a tiny kiss on his cheek.

“Kinda weird foreplay, love,” he hums, lacing his hand loosely around your throat. “But alright, I’m game. Insult me. Tell me I’m dumb again.”

“You’re dumb.” you play along as he sets his beer aside and crawls on top of you after taking the bottle out of your hand as well. “Stupid, even.”

“Yeah?” his voice has dropped, both in pitch and volume. “We’ll see who’s stupid once I’ve fucked all the thoughts right out of your pretty little head, sweetheart.”

A breath hitches into your lungs, causing a self-satisfied grin to flit across his beautiful lips for a blink. “Does someone like that? You want to be my cock dumb whore in this shitty little motel room?”

A quiet yes is all you can manage as you grip his forearms on either side of your head, staring up at him in lustful wonder.

“I’m not happy that you wouldn’t let me take you somewhere nice, you know.” it sounds like there might be a hint of actual upset rooted in the comment.

“I wanted to come here.” you remind him.

“All because you were jealous.” he shakes his head. “I bet you’ve been dwelling on this for years haven’t you? Picturing all the things she and I might have done to each other behind a door you couldn’t see past. Did you picture me fucking her into the mattress? Headboard banging against the wall, giving it to her just right? Making her call my name? Making her cum?”

“Shut up.” you lean forward and bite down on his shoulder through the shirt you wish he would take off.

“Did you?” he insists, pulling you away, fingers tangled in your hair.

“Yes, alright?” irritation bubbles up inside you. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes. I am, actually.” he’s disgustingly smug as his hand creeps down to slip between your legs. “You want me to make you happy, Button? Right now?”

You nod as your teeth sink into your bottom lip in an attempt to quell the anxious want flaring inside you.

“Words, pretty girl.” he whispers, coaxing you along. “You know so many, let’s use them, yeah? Can you speak up for Daddy? Hmm? Can you talk to me?”

“Fuck…”

The profanity whines shakily out of you and he strokes your cheek with one hand, and your clit over your panties with the back of the other. “That really does it for you, doesn’t it, Button? You wanna be Daddy’s good girl?”

Fighting the urge to writhe and beg incoherently, you reach up and dip your fingers into his curls, tugging on them a little, the way he loved so much last night. “I’ll be anything you want me to be, Josh. I’m yours. I always have been.”

He groans, sounding pained, as at last he eases his fingers under the elastic of your panties “Don’t make me feel all sentimental, sweetheart. Not when I’ve just gotten my hands on you. On this pretty wet pussy…fuck, baby…soaked little cunt. You want it that bad, Button?”

His filthy prose makes your head cloud, “Are we indulging in one of those kinks of yours right now? Do you like saying things you shouldn’t to every pretty girl who spreads her legs for you, or am I special?”

An electrified thrill sparks hot in your chest when his eyes snap to yours – you’ve managed to surprise him. He recovers in an instant. “I’m a talker, you know that. Sex is no different…but you’re beyond special, Button. You’re my special girl, aren’t you? My favorite. My love.”

You arch a single eyebrow challengingly, “What was that you were saying about feeling sentimental?”

“See, here is where your inexperience with me shows,” his fingers slide inside you as he watches your face relax in pleasure. “You know how I get on stage? What is it that you call me? Oh yes — a cocky fuck?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, not really listening because all you can think about is his long, warm fingers dancing along just where you want them most.

“Well, it’s worse when my cock is hard. Much worse.” That gets your attention.

You can practically feel your pupils blow with desire as you begin jerking on his shirt roughly. “Take this off,” you reach down and yank at the waist of his pants. “Take all of this fucking off.”

His hand abandones your cunt and you mewl like a starved stray cat until he yanks at the collar of the shirt you swiped from his bag. “You too. Let me see those pretty tits again.”

In a breath, you’re skin to skin, and you decide this is how you want to stay forever…laid out beneath him with his flawless, soft skin pressed against your own. His cock rests, hot and unbelievably hard, against your hip, and suddenly you’ve never wanted anything so desperately in your life.

“Put it in my mouth, Josh. Please, I want to feel you…I wanna taste you.” you’re begging without shame. It can’t be helped. The way he makes you feel – the heat pulsing through your system until it’s like you have live wires for veins, wicked and euphoric, twisting and shaking wildly just below the surface of your skin – you’d ask for it proudly in front of a crowd…you trot out on stage and make your request directly into the microphone.

“That’s twice today you’ve asked me to fill that sweet mouth of yours. Do you just enjoy sucking dick, or am I special?” he parrots your words back to you.

“You’re very special…” you reach down and sweep your thumb over his swollen tip and then shoot him a devious look, “I also happen to love sucking dick.”

That does it. A feral cloud darkens his stare as a sound growls out of him to match, at the mere thought of your mouth taking someone else and his palm is wrenched around your throat “Don’t piss me off right now, sweetheart, it’s too soon for all that.”

Oh! What a lovely little shock. Has this Josh been hiding here all along? Watching you, clocking your every move like a predator stalking innocent prey? Hot and ravenous behind those doe eyes and gentle grins?

He turns onto his back and pulls you right along with him, sinking you into a deep, breath-stealing kiss as you melt into him from above. You’re panting and rocking your cunt along the length of his cock when he tears your mouth from his. “You gonna make me feel good, pretty girl?”

His thumb rests at your lips as you nod, and you suck it slowly in preview before kissing your way down his body. He is so soft and warm, skin like flushed silk gliding beneath your mouth. You can’t imagine how his velvet cock will feel slipping back and forth along your tongue, but you’re eager to find out.

A barely audible call of your name, your real name, gasps out of him just ahead of a strangled moan when your tongue, wet and searching, spirals over the pillowy head of his cock. Teasing him until his hands find your hair. You swallow him until he’s nudging his way down your throat, with you gagging softly around him.

“Shit!” a shiver shakes his shoulders as you hollow your cheeks on the upward pull. “So fucking good for me, Button. You want to be sweet and make me cum don’t you?” you nod feverishly with a moan that vibrates around him. “Yeah, you do. You’re working so hard for it. Taking me right into your little throat.”

He slides in further and tears collect in your eyes and roll down your cheeks, “Oh, look at my pretty baby crying on my cock. Am I just so, so deep, sweetheart?” You nod and press the flat of your tongue against him. “What if I cum right in your mouth? What if I let you have it and dry your tears while you swallow me? Would that make it all better? Would that make my girl happy?”

Again, you nod and sink down until your lips are wrapped around the base and his body convulses, doubling over while his forearms wrap around your head to keep you still. “Don’t move.” He orders, sound ragged and out of breath. Flustered and out of control. He waits a beat, collecting himself, and then wrenches you off his cock and onto his lap.

“Take what you want, my love.” he whispers, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. The switch leaves you reeling, and you suspect that was his intent. The grin he’s trying to hide now, proves it.

Two can play that game, you think as you lift your hips and drop your gaze down to his slick, glistening cock. “Line it up.” you order, watching him twitch against his stomach at your demand.

He wraps his fist around the base and watches with hooded, intense eyes as you slowly, so fucking slowly, sink down around him. Hissing and whining at the delicious stretch…adoring the sting of it, the way he stuffs you completely full, until every movement, every breath, is Josh Josh Josh.

“So fucking perfect…” he growls low and quiet. “So fucking warm and wet. Dripping all over me. Got me whipped already, don’t you Button? I’d crawl for it, baby. I’d get right down on my knees and beg for a single kiss of your angelic little cunt on my cock.”

“Yeah?” your head lolls back as you begin to move, fucking him slow and steady as his words drift over you like a cool, crisp breeze after you’ve been cooped up in a stuffy room.

“Yeah.” he can’t take his eyes off you as you move above him, with your delicate left hand now kneading and squeezing at your own breasts, your right working tight circles into your clit.

You fuck him harder, faster, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock brushing against that spot inside you, right where you need him most. “Fuck, Josh…” it rides out of you no more than a needy whimper. “You feel so good inside me, your cock...fuck, fuck.”

His hands squeeze into your thighs, a silent warning for you to slow down. He isn’t ready to cum yet, he doesn’t want this to end. You take note of this. Of course you do, you two have always traveled on the same wavelength and now is no different – you simply choose to ignore it in favor of chasing the orgasm you’re headed straight for.

Again, his fingers dig into your flesh, and again, you pay him no mind and continue working yourself into a writhing, heaving, moaning mess above him, until suddenly, his hands are curled around the nape of your neck, aggressively jerking you down until your forehead is pressed against his own, his hips now snapping his cock up into you hard and fast.

“Is this how you want to be fucked?” he rasps, growling the words out close to your open mouth. “Like a whore with no regard for what I want? Fine. Take it. Take it, baby, since you needed it so bad.”

His hands twist into your hair painfully, but you love it. Fuck, you love it. “Open your eyes,” he demands with a blissful tug “Fucking look at me.”

Your eyes meet and with a rumbling cry ripping out of his chest, he spills into you, hot and pulsing.

“Yes…” the word pours out of you like honey, languid and dripping, as he twitches and fills you. “Give it to me, Josh. Inside. I want it, I want it, I want it…”

“You have it, Button…it’s yours.”

His end sends you crashing into your own, and he fucks you through it, holding you now by the hair and chin, keeping your eyes locked together as he murmurs filthy words in a sweet tone that doesn’t match up with the obscenity of it all.

He holds you gently when you collapse down against his chest, running a hand up and down your spine and petting at your hair while your breathing slows and syncs up together. “You okay, Button my love? Still with me?” He finally whispers when he trusts himself to speak without sounding choked and ruined.

“I’ve never been more okay in my entire life.” you smile, sleepily kissing and licking the sweat from his chest.

“Jake was right, you know.” he sighs, after a long stretch of comfortable silence. “You should come with us. On tour, I mean.”

“Josh,” you avoid his eyes and trace circles along his skin with the pad of your fingers. “I have a job, and an apartment, and friends…my family is here, and –”

“So?” he cuts you off. “You can have a job with us. You can be tour assistant to the band or whatever,” he waves his hand around as he makes up a title off the top of his head. “You already do that kind of…how often does your phone ring with one of us on the other end over something stupid? Might as well get paid for it. And yeah, you have friends here, sure…but lets be real, we’re your friend friends…the one’s that really matter.”

“But…”

Again, he continues on, off and running on a Joshua tangent. “Family, Button? Family? Do I even need to bother with that one?”

He’s right, you avoid your family like the plague.

“I can’t walk away from you now.” he sounds so small and sad that you tilt your face up and lock in on those eyes you’ve been avoiding. “It broke my heart before, every single time…but now? I think it might kill me. Come with us. Come with me.”

You roll to your back beside him and grab your now lukewarm beer off the end table. After a long pull on it you offer it to him. He always had a knack for talking you into anything, though this one wasn’t such a magic act, you want to go with him just as badly.

“Alright, Kiszka.” you sigh, taking his hand in yours. “I’ll come with you.”

A wide, gorgeous grin breaks across his face. “You and me, Button.”

You return that trademark smile and nod, “You and me, Josh.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gardenofgreta @greta-van-chaos @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @dvrkblooms @kiszkathecook @shesalrightshesouttasight @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @kdarling1 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @spicedandicedtea @gretavanflowerpower @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @loofypoofy @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @prophetofthedune @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @dakotadovato @avagvf @joshkiszkas @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @xserenax-13 @gretasmokerising @tripthelight-fanfic @tripthelightfandomtastic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet

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crossdreamers · 9 days

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Some exciting novels that treat transgender side characters in respectful ways

There's an ongoing discussion about transgender representation in literature, mostly focusing on works by visibly queer and transgender authors. This raises questions about strong transgender characters in other books.

Many novels depict trans people negatively, often sexualized, pathologized, or ridiculed. However, some books portray transgender characters as ordinary people. Over at Crossdreamers I highlight two books that pass my test of humanizing trans characters and one that doesn't quite meet the mark.

To give one example: In Summon The Angels by J.J. Campanella, part of the Eddy Bratenahl series, the protagonist is a police psychologist at the Chicago Police Department who gets actively involved in investigations.

Amanda Richards, a transgender artist, plays a significant role in this book. She is portrayed as a complete human being, treated with respect by the author and other characters.

The story delves into her transgender journey and life, set – in part –against the backdrop of Japanese culture.

Summon of the Angels offers thrilling entertainment while exploring existential questions like the nature of evil and suffering. Amanda's life story brings an additional dimension to this part of the novel.

The book is a good example of how authors may present transgender lives in a meaningful and constructive way.

Read the whole article here!

By Jack Molay

Jack is blogging over at Crossdreamers. You can follow their transgender news curation over at Mastodon, Bluesky, Telegram and X.

#transgender #trans #lgbt #lgbtqa #queer #nonbinary #art #culture #thrillers #fiction #novels

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cosmickyeom · 2 years

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seventeen, medical!au! ⋆ ﹕₊˚ hip hop unit as medical specialties!

content warning: hospital and other medical-related themes

⋆ ﹕₊˚ seungcheol, orthopedic surgery ⋆ this used to be a no-brainer speciality and is now one of the most competitive and difficult specialities to get matched into ⋆ the sweetest ortho-bro you will ever meet in your life ⋆ generally pretty laid-back and most of the staff harbor a huge crush on him ⋆ but switches to business mode when his cases start ⋆ does not allow foul language or other toxic behavior in his operating room, will not hesitate to kick people out ⋆ he definitely has a routine he needs to follow before each case and gets incredibly whiny when someone pages or interrupts him, forcing him to start over ⋆ the kind of doctor to buy food for the students and residents that follow him, he just wants them to think he's cool ⋆ learns new slang and the trends from his students and then uses them incorrectly around the other members ⋆ can be found in the emergency department with hoshi, radiology department with jihoon, or in the break room trying to beat jeonghan and wonwoo at games ⋆ ﹕₊˚ wonwoo, general surgery ⋆ all the years of video games have helped him with his quick reaction times and dexterity. he's very calculated and intentional with everything he does ⋆ especially loves doing surgery with the robot, feels like he's getting paid to play games ⋆ the surgery department holds an annual olympics event where they set up fun events related to their specialty (suturing weird things, trivia, etc) ⋆ wonu definitely beat seungcheol during all suturing events because of his quick and nimble fingers ⋆ refuses to let seungcheol live it down ⋆ also refuses to fulfill the "dumb surgeon" stereotype ⋆ unlike his peers, he actually clocks in a lot of time interacting with patients and learning about their disease states, often consults internal medicine doctor mingyu ⋆ can usually be found in the break room playing video games on his phone between cases ⋆ at the start of each cohort, someone (anesthesiologist jeonghan) spreads a rumor to all the residents and students that he's actually a robot and is only as capable and smart as he is because he gets a system update each night when he plugs himself into the outlet. jeonghan isn't allowed to interact with the residents any more ⋆ ﹕₊˚ mingyu, internal medicine ⋆ jack of all trades, he's super smart and good at everything, plus goes out of his way to learn a little bit from the other specialities ⋆ he gets along with all of the elderly patients because he gets to swap recipes and other fun life hacks with them, but also gets hit on A LOT. ⋆ hands down, the worst doctor to get ahold of/find because ⋆ 1) he's got long ass legs and is able to scale the entire ward in a few steps OR ⋆ 2) he's sleeping somewhere where he isn't supposed to be and nobody has knows when's the last time they saw him. ⋆ was once confused for a family member because he fell asleep in a chair in a patient's room after exchanging home recipes with each other and was only found because his pager wouldn't stop beeping ⋆ still strikingly good looking even after pulling 18 hour shifts HELLO ⋆ nurses have genuinely considered putting a gps tracker in his shoe or in his white coat, but couldn't get it approved by the ethics committee

⋆ ﹕₊˚ hansol, pathology ⋆ home boy is in a world by himself... and his trusty microscope ⋆ he and jihoon have weekly therapy sessions where they complain and rant about how the other members keep busting into their respective offices for menial things ⋆ takes photos of cool stains and samples that he sees and sends it to the group chat, only for everyone to be so far distanced from their last histology course that they have no idea what he's freaking out about most of the time ⋆ the only person who knows what's up in the group chat is joshua, the hospital dermatologist ⋆ somewhat appreciates emergency doctor hoshi's comments about the cool colors and funny shapes ⋆ super chill, doesn't take offense when people ask him to reinterpret samples ⋆ the pathology lab always has the best music playing in it, especially when hansol's working. sometimes, can be found hunched over a microscope with earbuds in, or his personal playlist is softly playing in the background ⋆ literally vibing

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organchordsandlightning · 5 months

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one of the interesting things about pathologic 2 is that, at least from the haruspex's point of view, it's funny that you get to town and almost immediately this bigshot city doctor is put in charge - but there's an epidemic and he's a doctor and there's no healers in town with good standing (makes wiggly hand gestures to refer to Rubin), so you get it even if it's clear that he probably couldn't spell Gorkhon if asked

But then from the Bachelor POV (in classic, at least), it's just a constant political battle of people manipulating you and or doing everything they can to make sure you don't fix this plague, you don't have any *real* power and half the arrangements you make end up biting you in the ass. Only one in control of this ship is the plague baybee

#pathologic 2 #jack plays pathologic

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autismguy55 · 3 months

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pinned post

hi i’m august, he/it, 16 years mold and i draw. more info under the cut ⬇️⬇️

this is my lord of the flies account. my main is @necroneuro but it’s dead because at this point i only use tumblr for lotf. you can follow me on twitter @ necroneuro and instagram @ necroticneurotic or @ autismguy54. my asks and dms are also always open! i love talking to people.

jack and ralph are my favorites but apart from that i like every character in the book. i first read it in october 2022 for english class and it ruined my life. i am crazy and insane.

outside of lotf, i like cartoons, history, pathology, and music, as well as playing guitar. i have a spotify playlist here with my favorite bands and songs!

byf — i am autistic (shocker) and adhd. i’m pretty straightforward so i can come off as rude when i don’t mean to, i don’t mind clarifying. i draw but i also talk about lotf analysis sometimes, please ask me about it i looove analyzing so much!

a note on shipping — i do not particularly care for ship discourse or what other people ship. i am an advocate for using the block/unfollow button and filtering tags. do not come onto my posts bashing ships or saying “i like the art, but hate this ship.” i do not care.

thank you for reading! :)

#textpost #intro post #august speaks

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allylikethecat · 11 months

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if you’re still doing the kiss prompts, i woild love 9/19 for gatty ♥️

also wanted to say ive read p mi h everything in the gatty tag and think you have probably the most unique writer’s voice ive seen yet your characters feel 100% true ♥️ truly amazing

First, thank you so much for your kind words about my writing! There are so many incredibly talented writers in this fandom and I am so honored to be included in the tag with them! I have a lot of fun writing about the misadventures of Matty and George and I'm so happy that you're enjoying reading about them! (Eventually, one day, I'll update one of my fics on AO3 - for now I've been having too much fun working on these prompts!)

For the kiss prompts - I ended up combining these two, 9. Kiss…in public and 19. Kiss…for luck. I hope that was okay! If not let me know and I'll write you two new ones 😊 Regardless of if you wanted them combined or two separate ones, I hope that you enjoyed this fill!

❤️Ally

9. Kiss…in public & 19. Kiss…for luck

Matty felt like he was going to throw up. The spliff he had smoked, what he hoped was stealthily in the bathroom, standing carefully balanced on the toilet seat to exhale directly into the vent fan, George laughing with his hands on his hips to keep him steady, had done absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. If anything, it had only made him more anxious, made him paranoid that everyone could tell he was stoned. Even after rehearsing all week, after playing these songs for months, after writing them himself, he still couldn’t manage to pronounce “thinking this through” properly, the words slurring together in such a way that it had become a meme on TikTok. He was about to fuck up the words to his own song on live broadcast television and then get ridiculed on the internet for having a speech impediment despite all the years of speech pathology he had attended as a child to lose his lisp.

He knew, rationally, they had been on bigger stages before. He knew rationally, the slur of the line was attributed to his Manchester accent and not his childhood speech impediment. He knew rationally, that even if he didn’t remember it, they had played SNL before. Maybe that’s why he was so nervous, maybe that’s why his stomach was churning ominously, leaving him wondering if he was going to puke or shit himself with nerves, or if he was really lucky, maybe a combination of the two.

He had seen the videos of their SNL performance in 2016, he had seen the articles condemning his “weird” stage presence. He had been high as shit on heroin, drunk as hell on red wine and it was truly a miracle that he had managed the performance at all. He had hazy memories of waking up in the back of the car taking them to the hotel, having fallen asleep with his heavy head on George’s shoulder as soon as they were in the moving vehicle, to hear murmurs of how they probably weren’t ever going to be invited back. The track marks on his arm had itched and shame burned in his chest. At the time, he hadn’t even been sure what they weren’t being invited back to.

But here they were, seven years later, invited back. Their fifth album was doing better than they could have ever hoped, their sold out North American tour had been met with critical acclaim. They were nominated for another Brit award and Jack had even accidentally on purpose let slip that their name was being tossed around as actual Grammy contenders. And they had been invited back. To play SNL, even though seven years ago Matty had blacked out and then apparently thrown up just off to the side of the stage, barely out of view of the audience. It was time for his redemption arc, time for him to show NBC that he was Matty Fucking Healy, and Matty Fucking Healy was no longer a liability.

Even though he kind of felt like a liability, standing with his guitar in the green room, trying to remember why he thought being a rockstar was a good idea to begin with.

The rest of the guys, and their backing band, where sprawled out on the leather couches, fiddling with their instruments, laughing with excitement as Matty paced, strumming a few cords as he did so, trying desperately to calm himself, to remind himself that he was Matty Fucking Healy. Worst case scenario had already happened last time they played SNL, so really he should be relaxed, it could only go up from here. His stomach lurched and he found himself scrambling over to the bar sink in the corner, leaning heavily on the counter, banging his guitar on the cabinet as he moved. He took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. False alarm. He was fine. Everything was fine.

“You guys are up,” said a PA poking his head into the green room, Matty looked up, seeing the look of concern and judgment that PA was giving him. He looked too young to have been around for their first performance on the show, but Matty was willing to bet he had heard about it when it was announced they had been booked. Keep an eye on the little curly one, Matty was sure some senior up stage hand had said. Last time he did heroin in the bathroom then threw up everywhere.

Matty swallowed hard. It was show time. It was just another show he told himself. Just another show. If he was losing it in front of a crowd of 300 he had no idea how he was going to handle Finsbury that summer- they were expecting 50,000. He knew it wasn’t the size of the live audience. It was the live broadcast and what it represented.

“Hey,” George said, catching his arm just as they were about to step onto the stage, and step into the shine of the lights. He could hear Jenna introducing them, though it sounded far away, like his head underwater, which was surreal enough in itself Matty thought hysterically. “Good luck.”

He wrapped one of his large hands around Matty’s lower back, skimming the top curve of his arse. He pressed his mouth to Matty’s, in a chaste kiss that Matty found himself melting into, trying to deepen, chasing George’s lips, even as he pulled back.

“You’re going to be brilliant.”

The crowd started screaming and Matty looked over his shoulder, realizing with detachment that they hadn’t been as hidden, hadn’t been as off to the side as they had thought, the studio audience had a direct view, a front row seat to George kissing him.

His next thought was the Taylor Swift song, has anyone ever kissed you in a crowded room. Followed quickly by this meant that the audience did in fact probably see him throw up last time. A hysterical bubble of laughter pulled itself from his chest and he rested his forehead against George’s chest.

George gave the crowd a sheepish wave before pressing another kiss to the crown of Matty’s head, before stepping back and making his way to his drum kit. Matty spun around and waved at the audience, moving into the spotlight to take his place at center stage, grinning to himself as they played the opening notes of Looking for Somebody (To Love). He already had found somebody to love.

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supergoodfilmanalysis · 5 months

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The Watermelon Woman: Queer representational strategies as possibility

Cheryl Dunye’s The Watermelon Woman (1996) made history as the first feature film written and directed by a Black lesbian–but the film knows this and extensively explores its appellation as the “first of its kind,” a title Dunye simultaneously treats with frustration and reverence. It’s strikingly self-aware, funny, and inventive, a semi-autobiographical story about Cheryl, a video store clerk and chronically single filmmaker who decides to make a documentary on a mysterious Black actress from the 1930s pigeonholed into playing “mammy” roles who appears in the credits of a film called Plantation Memories simply as “The Watermelon Woman.” It’s a movie about movies! “I am a Black lesbian filmmaker who's just beginning,” Cheryl says, and here the thesis of the movie exhumes itself. The text demonstrates a preoccupation with the power of identity as a representational strategy through imagery and insists on its existence, the Black lesbian gaze resisting hiddenness behind the camera and crafting a visible narrative powered by the excavation of archival memory, the straddling of truth and representations of truth, of real and imagined. Dunye’s filmmaking mirrors her own life while the fictionalized version of herself seeks her own image in the black-and-white static of footage nearly lost to history. The Watermelon Woman chronicles the myriad of interconnected dynamics between art and real life–its awareness of the ways it is speaking about and to itself is demonstratively pointed, with Cheryl often speaking directly to the camera about her project and desire to tell Fae’s story.

Fae Richards, the eponymous Watermelon Woman, symbolizes the Black queer archive that future generations of Black queer filmmakers like Cheryl strive to hold within their canon, and as Cheryl interviews subjects for her documentary on Fae and digs through archives she finds proof not only of Fae’s existence but of her queerness¹. She discovers that Martha Page, the white director of Plantation Memories, and Fae were in a relationship, all the while navigating her own dating life, getting entangled with a white video store patron named Diana, much to her best friend Tamara’s dismay. The ways Cheryl’s relationship with Diana parallels Fae and Martha’s excavates the possibilities and challenges of “race relations” within queerness and the ways white lesbianism often possesses an objectifying curiosity with Blackness. The film’s theoretical standpoint as a piece of media that presents a representational theory of Black queerness pointing out gaping holes in the so-called canon is made imminent by some of its casting choices–cultural critic and infamous haver of weird opinions Camille Paglia appears as a parody of herself and a mouthpiece for white feminist film theory offering a misguided take on the “mammy” sterotype, and love interest Diana is played by Guinevere Turner, cowriter and star of the 1994 lesbian film Go Fish. The Watermelon Woman theorizes that sexuality and race are mutually constitutive and through the production and reception of representational imagery this interrelation is complicated by the relationship between the creator and the recipient of an image–Cheryl is a lover of film as much as she is a filmmaker and a large portion of her desire to tell stories about the complexity of being a Black woman who is many things at once comes from her desire to consume these stories.

Jack Halberstam’s “Looking Butch: A Rough Guide to Butches on Film” bifurcates queer imagery into “positive” and “negative,” necessarily locating “butch” as a visual identity located in media representations in one of two pathologies². Butchness in film is often leveraged to be emblematic of non-normative female sexuality in a way that is easily visually understood, and as a result, butch lesbians in film have more often than not functioned to be objects rather than subjects of inquiry. Halberstam posits that the debate around positive and negative images often returns to early feminist film criticism calling for “positive representations,” categorically rejecting depictions that could be received in their full complexity as anything other than “good.” Halberstam complicates the idea of a positive image by postulating that this desire for queer imagery imbedded with messaging that campaigns for itself places “the onus of queering cinema squarely on the production rather than the reception of images.” The Watermelon Woman explores how cinema is queered both through the production and reception of images; Cheryl watches Plantation Memories for the first time, she reads the queerness in it and it becomes a queer text because of her viewing, then when it is revealed that The Watermelon Woman and the film’s white director were in a relationship, her read is validated. Cheryl’s onscreen presence as a butch lesbian is overtly queer and her and Tamara’s open discussion of lesbianism as well as an intimate sex scene between Cheryl and Diana underscore this film’s goal of moving beyond the implicit in representation, further informing the lesbian lens with with Cheryl uses to analyze and interpret films like Plantation Memories.

Plantation Memories is not a real film, but it might as well be as it represents the startling politics of race films of its time where the white Scarlet O’Hara-type starlet weeps in the arms of the nurturing Black woman with such vigor that it’s hard not to believe in its existence. The consequence of the effects films like it produced continue to be felt in strategies of representation and Fae Richards does not represent an easily “positive” image of queerness–instead occupying a space in the troubling tradition of the racialized dominant images of Black women in film–yet Cheryl recognizes herself in Fae’s performance partially because it is so fraught. She identifies in her relationship with Diana a similar dynamic to Fae Richards and Martha Page, who only cast her lover in highly stereotyped and racially singular roles, where her lesbianism and Blackness are at slight odds with one another when in a relationship with a white lesbian who can relate to her based on only one of those central tenets and displays a voyeuristic and ultimately isolating interest in the other one. The Watermelon Woman argues for complexity beyond “positive” and “negative” imagery and constructs a Foucauldian reverse discourse where negative imagery can be positively productive when viewed critically and rethought. The film invests in the prospect that art can be a two-way conversation and that by beholding representational images, we project our possibilities onto it. The image on the screen dims and the reflection of the audience is left peering back at itself--Dunye holds onto this moment and treats it with tenderness, imbuing this empty space with hope.

@theuncannyprofessoro

Ratnarajah, Anoushka. “Indisputably Real: Cheryl Dunye’s the Watermelon Woman.” Out On Screen, August 6, 2021. https://outonscreen.com/blog/2020/news/indisputably-real-cheryl-dunyes-the-watermelon-woman/.

Halberstam, Jack. Looking Butch: A Rough Guide to Butches on Film" In Female Masculinity, 175-230. New York, USA: Duke University Press, 1998. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780822378112-008

#oxyfilmidentity #identityfilmanalysis

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