#there's something so deeply wrong with these two

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Imagine Joel taking your virginity

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

WC: 5.4k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, porn with no plot, unspecified but big age gap, oral (m!receiving), virginity loss, unprotected piv, thigh riding, daddy kink, baby-talking, young and innocent reader, creampie, condescending joel, terms like baby girl, sweet little girl etc.

Even thought this part is a standalone, you might want to read a previous part: Joel teaches you how to go down on him.

Today was just another quiet afternoon in Jackson, you’d been heading back from the greenhouse, you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings, too focused trying to brush the dirt off your knees, until you saw them…

Joel was outside the stables, half-laughing about something with a woman, gray in her hair, deep lines around her eyes from a life lived outdoors, she looked about the same age as Joel. She was standing close to him, not too close, nothing inappropriate, nothing that would give you the right to get pissed, but the kind of close that felt natural.

You stopped walking without meaning to, and you watched as she touched his arm and laughed. They looked right together, and it hit you like a sucker punch, the breath caught in your lungs and wouldn’t let go. Maybe because you’d never look right with Joel next to you, at least not in the way people expect a couple to look. People didn’t assume you two were together, hell, you’d even been mistaken for father and daughter more than once whenever someone new showed up in Jackson.

You turned away, heading back home before you could watch more. You felt so small, so young, like some little kid playing grown-up. You weren’t enough, not for him, not when he could talk for hours with a woman who remembered the same pre-outbreak songs, who didn’t need Joel to teach her how to shoot, or how to suck him off, a woman who could take all of him, not just the tip.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed after you reached your house until you heard the door open, footsteps crossing the threshold. Joel’s voice followed a second later, light and casual.

“Hey, darlin’. You home already?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. You felt so insignificant, who were you trying to fool? There would come a day, because of course there would, when Joel would get tired of playing house with a little girl pretending to be a woman.

Joel walked into the bedroom, you didn’t look up, you were staring hard at the floor, fists clenched in your lap. He paused in the doorway, sensing the shift in the air instantly.

“Hey.” His voice softened. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“C’mon now,” he said gently, stepping closer. “I know when something’s up, sweetheart.”

You finally glanced up, and the moment your eyes met his, everything cracked.

“I saw you,” you said quietly. “With her. That woman.”

Joel blinked, confused. “Who?”

“Her. Outside the stables.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh, you mean Carmen?”

You nodded once, the name sounded even worse spoken aloud.

Joel crouched in front of you. “What about her?”

You let the silence hang for a second too long, he caught it, could see it on your face. What were you supposed to say? He hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t cheated or anything like that.

“Goddammit,” he murmured. “My baby’s got herself twisted up, huh?”

“She’s your age,” you whispered. “She laughs with you. She gets your stories. She probably remembers music on the radio. And—and—I feel like a stupid little girl. You’re a man. You’ve lived this whole life. I don’t even… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, I just pretend, and you’re just—You’re Joel. You don’t need me.”

“You really are just a dumb little thing, huh?” Your breath caught, he wasn’t cruel when he said it, just… exasperated, deeply, lovingly exasperated “Little dumb baby.”

Your breath was shallow, tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. Joel didn’t say anything at first, just reached for your hands, gently unclenching them.

“I’m gonna say this once,” he said, voice low. “And I want you to hear me, alright?”

You nodded, barely.

“You’re my baby. You're soft, and sweet, and so fuckin’ easy to wreck I can barely keep my hands off you. You look at me like I’m good, even when I ain’t. And yeah, baby, I like that you need me. I like teachin’ you. I like when you look up at me all scared and excited, askin’ me to show you things no one ever has.”

He pulled your hands to his chest, right over his heart.

“I want you. I choose you. Every single goddamn day.”

Your throat closed, he sounded sincere, and you really wanted to believe him

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked. “I see someone who makes me laugh when I forget how. Someone who touches me like I matter. You know how long it’s been since I’ve felt that? I feel alive, baby. I feel like a man again. Not a ghost.”

You looked at him, really looked, and saw how wrecked he was now, how deeply this was hitting him too.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re not a phase. You’re not pretendin’. And you’re sure as hell not some kid to me, you’re my girl.”

“I just… I know I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not older. I don’t know how to do stuff. I had to ask you to show me how to… suck you, and then I couldn’t even take you, not really. Just the tip.” your voice cracked on that. “You’ve waited so long already and it’s not fair—”

“Stop.”

You blinked, his voice was quiet, but it had teeth. Joel pushed himself up slowly, sitting beside you on the bed, and looked down at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I don’t want this?” he asked, voice low and gravel-deep. “You think I’d rather be off with some older, experienced woman who could deep throat me and ride me into the goddamn sunset?”

He shook his head, almost laughing, but there was no humor in it.

“You think I give a single shit that you don’t know what you’re doin’? Sweetheart, I like teachin’ you. I like that you’ve never done this before. I like bein’ the first cock you take. I like that I get to be gentle with you. Take my time. Watch you fall apart under me.” He leaned down, bracing himself over you, hand sliding to your cheek. “You think I’m sufferin’ ‘cause I only had the tip inside you? Baby girl, that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I’ve had in years.”

Your breath caught.

“You were clenchin’ around me so tight, I damn near came the second I pushed in. And you were so sweet—so good—lookin’ up at me all wide-eyed, sayin’ please, Joel, please just the tip, like you didn’t know you were ruinin’ me.”

You looked away, a bit embarrassed by the memory, but is hand gently brought your face back to his.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said, softly this time. “You think I want someone who’s had twenty dicks in her mouth and five up her pussy?”

Your eyes widened, Joel was always so blunt, you let out a startled laugh, he grinned, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I want you, baby. I want this tight, shy little thing that don’t even know how sweet her own mouth feels until I show her. I want the girl who looks up at me while she’s suckin’ and asks, am I doin’ good, Joel? like it don’t drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You nodded against him, voice small. “I just… I want to be enough for you.”

Joel pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up. You were so clueless, Joel thought, how couldn’t you see how much he loved how soft and innocent you were? How you were all he’d ever wanted? Your sweetness made both his heart ache and his cock throb.

“You are enough. You’re fuckin’ perfect for me.”

You searched his face, the lines, the grey at his temples, the quiet sadness behind his eyes, and all you saw there was truth.

“Even if I need you to teach me everything?” You whispered.

“Especially that,” he murmured. “’Cause I’m gonna teach you right. Teach you slow. You’re gonna learn everything from me, and only me."

“Joel... I wanna try again,” you said, and your voice came out soft, but sure. “With my mouth.”

Joel stilled, his eyes darkened slow, oh, the things you did to him, hearing you say those filthy things with that sweet, innocent mouth of yours. He smiled, slow, crooked, filthy.

“You mean suckin’ my cock?” he asked, all teasing drawl and patronizing sweetness.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to.”

Joel’s hand slid higher on your thigh. “You askin’ real nice, baby girl.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Please, Joel. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna do it right this time.”

He groaned, low and sharp, hand flexing on your skin.

“Alright, then, but only cause you want to, not because you feel like you need to prove somethin’,” he muttered. “Go ahead. Show me what you remember.”

He shifted back on the bed and unzipped his jeans with one hand, tugging them low enough to free his cock, already half-hard, thick, and flushed. You sat up on your knees between his legs, suddenly so aware of how big he looked like this, broad and spread out, just waiting.

Your hand wrapped around the base of him, he twitched in your palm, and you leaned down slowly, licking a soft stripe up the underside like he’d shown you before.

Joel exhaled sharp through his nose. “Thassit. Just like that, baby.”

“Hi there,” you said softly with his cock on your hand.

Joel huffed a laugh, low and almost incredulous. “You talkin’ to my cock now?”

“Maybe,” you said to Joel, before focusing your eyes back to his cock. “Hello again,” you said sweetly, leaning in to kiss the head. “Missed me?”

His breath was already hitching, you took it as a good sign and did it again, this time licking the head in slow, teasing circles, letting your tongue slip under the ridge.

“Look at you. Such a good boy. Getting all big and strong for me.”

Joel groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. You’re one of a kind, baby girl.”

You batted your lashes up at him. “You like it.”

“I love it,” he muttered, eyes fixed on your mouth as you gave another teasing lick up the underside. “Love my silly baby girl talkin’ nonsense while she plays with her food.”

You giggled and leaned in, rubbing your cheek affectionately against his cock like it was a plush toy. And then you leaned down and kissed it with over-the-top reverence, soft little “muah” sounds, little nose nuzzles. You really liked his cock, sure, it was the only one you’d ever seen in person, so you didn’t exactly have a reference point, but still… if you had to guess? It was the kind of cock a woman would want

He gave you that slow, dangerous smirk. “You gonna make out with him right in front of me, baby?”

You nodded solemnly. “Don’t be jealous, daddy. He deserves love too.”

Joel groaned like he was in pain, throwing his head back on the pillow. “Christ, you’re such a goddamn brat.”

You were driving him absolutely insane, on your knees, looking like a sweet little angel who’d fallen from heaven, your innocent little face nuzzling all over his cock, rubbing your cheek against it, pressing soft kisses… He wanted so badly to grab your hair, shove his cock down your throat and hold you there as he emptied his balls.

You kept flicking your tongue over his tip over and over again, watching as it began to leak more

“I’m your brat.”

“Damn right you are,” he said roughly, running a hand through your hair. “My sweet dumb baby. Givin’ daddy a heart attack every time she opens her mouth.”

“He missed me,” you whispered, tongue tracing around his tip. “He loves my mouth, doesn’t he?”

Joel’s voice dropped, rough and sweet and low. “Yeah, baby. He does. You got the best fuckin’ mouth. He wants you drooling all over him, don’t he?”

“Mhm.” You licked a fat stripe up the underside, then wrapped your lips around the head, making Joel moan, loud and unfiltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “You been practicin’ in your dreams or somethin’, baby girl?”

You smiled against him. “Just been thinkin’ about it,” you whispered. “Thinkin’ about makin’ you feel good.”

“Better just be that,” Joel groaned, “and not you practicin’ on any of those boys from round town.”

“Jooeeel,” you giggled, sweet and teasing, “you know I don’t want anyone else but daddy.”

He growled, and you let your lips close around the tip and sucked, hollowing your cheeks, going slow, shallow, just the tip, in and out, working your hand at the base to match like he'd taught you last time.

“Atta girl,” Joel groaned. “That’s it. Look at you. My good girl. My perfect little cockslut.” Joel’s hand came to rest on the back of your head, not pushing, just resting.

“Jesus, baby. You’re learnin’. Makin’ daddy feel so good…”

You moaned around him, and he twitched in your mouth, the vibrations were just adding to the intense pleasure you were already giving him.

“Fuck—yeah, do that again. Moan on it. Shit.”

You moaned and took him a little deeper, your throat felt tight, but you were determined, wanting to prove him you were a big girl, one that could take his entire cock in your mouth. You pulled back after you ran out of breath, and sucked softly on the tip, letting spit drip and smear down your fist.

He groaned loud. “Look at you,” he panted. “Look at this fuckin’ mouth, takin’ my cock so sweet. You were made for this, baby girl.”

You got bolder by his compliments, and licked down to the base and back up again. Let the head rest on your tongue and gazed up at him, eyes wide and wet, mouth full.

“Oh fuck, baby—don’t look at me like that, I swear to God—”

“You like that?” You asked, lips glossy with spit. “You like watchin’ me do it?”

“I love watchin’ you do it,” he growled. “You’re so good, baby. S’good for me. This mouth’s made for suckin’ daddy’s cock.”

You whimpered, and he caught your face in both hands, gently guiding you down again, rocking his hips just a little. He needed it, yes, he loved the gentle flicks of your tongue, the toying with his tip, but right now he needed to hit the back of your throat.

“You take what I give you,” he murmured. “Little bit deeper now. That’s it. Just like that. My good girl. Take him all the way. Show him how much you love him.”

You worked him with your mouth and hand together, taking breaks to lick, to suck, to breathe—and each time you paused, he praised you, whispered filth like you were doing him the biggest favor in the world.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so pretty like this… pretty mouth full of me…”

“Yeah, just like that, take your time… fuck, I ain’t gonna last…”

“You feel how hard I am for you? You know what you do to me, baby girl?”

You sucked him harder, hand twisting at the base, Joel groaned, full-bodied and deep. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna last another minute with you takin’ it like that.”

You whimpered around him, thighs squeezing together. Just his moans and those bold, filthy compliments were enough to get you wet and aching.

“Aw, baby’s gettin’ wet just suckin’ cock, huh? Poor little thing. Gonna need me later?”

You nodded, still bobbing, spit running down your chin. You pulled off just enough to murmur:

“He’s gettin’ twitchy.”

Joel grunted. “Yeah? You feel him startin’ to cum?”

“Warn me, daddy,” you said around him. “But I’m not stoppin’.”

You smiled and sucked him back into your mouth, sucking deep, and you didn’t let go until he was shaking, grunting, hips stuttering.

“F-Fuck… baby—daddy’s cummin’, he’s cummin’—fuck, right now—” Joel groaned, voice rough and desperate, his hips jerking up into you as the pleasure overtook him.

He came down your throat, hot and thick and salty, you liked the taste of it more than you did last time. You swallowed around him, let him ride it out in your mouth, his hands cradling the back of your head, thumbs stroking your cheeks like you were precious.

When you finally pulled off, he was panting, staring down at you like he didn’t know what hit him.

“Holy fuck, baby…”

You smiled, wiped the corner of your mouth. “Did I do good?”

Joel laughed, breathless. “You did perfect.” It was only the second time you’d sucked him, and you’d already outrun every other woman who’d ever been in his life.

He pulled you up onto his lap, arms tight around you. His thigh shifted beneath you, solid and warm, and you didn’t realize you were grinding down against it until he did.

“Ohh,” he said lowly, voice nearly a growl. “There she goes.”

You froze, a little ashamed by the fact that you were so horny you hadn’t even realized you were unconsciously humping his thigh, but Joel leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “Don’t stop now, sweetheart. Keep ridin' me like that.”

Your eyes fluttered. “On… on your thigh?”

He nodded slowly, letting his hand drag up the curve of your back. “Mhm. That’s it. That’s what a sweet, shy girl like you needs. Nothin’ too scary. Just daddy’s thigh to start.”

“Joel,” you whispered, embarrassed and overwhelmed and aching so bad.

“S’just like dancin’, baby,” he cooed. “You know how to move your hips, don’t you?”

You nodded shyly, lashes still wet from sucking him, clutching at his shoulders. He adjusted your legs so you were straddling one thick, muscled thigh, your knees braced on either side of his, making you feel the corded muscle shift under you.

“Try movin’,” Joel whispered, voice all honeyed patience. “Rock your hips on me. Just a little to begin with. Just rub your sweet lil’ pussy on my thigh. Pretend it’s my cock if you want.”

You hesitated, but then rolled your hips forward, slowly dragging your clothed pussy over the ridge of his thigh, the friction made you gasp and clutch your fingers on his shirt.

“There we go,” Joel cooed. “See? That feel good? That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do all on your own. Go slow at first. Just lil’ rocks, baby.”

“Oh…”

“Atta girl. You’re doin’ so good. S’just like that.”

You moved again, the soft cotton of your panties growing damper with every pass. Joel watched you like a starving man, eyes hooded, hands staying right at your hips, guiding your movements.

Your breath came quicker as your clit caught on the firm pressure beneath you. The friction was perfect through your panties, rough enough to spark pleasure but safe enough not to scare you.

“Feel good, baby?”

You whimpered. “Y-yeah.”

“You ridin’ me now, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “Even if it’s just my thigh. So desperate to be a big girl, you just had to feel it, huh?”

You nodded, moving again, this time more confidently, moaning under your breath as the pressure hit just right.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he whispered, mock sympathy dripping from every word. “Look at you grindin’ all over me like you need it to breathe.”

Your cheeks burned, you buried your face in his neck as your hips rocked faster. “Feels so good, daddy…”

“I know it does. This is what happens when you trust me to teach you. I’ll show you everythin’, baby. Start you slow… get you used to it.”

You moaned into his skin, your clit catching just right on his thigh.

“Bet you’re gettin’ your pretty panties all wet, huh?”

You whimpered again in response.

“Yeah, I can feel it,” he growled. “Soakin’ through. You keep goin’, baby girl. Use me. Rub that little pussy right on me ‘til you cum.”

“God, Joel, it—feels so good—”

He nodded, hand sliding up your back. “I know it does, sweetheart. That’s your little pussy learnin’ how to get off. Keep goin’ for me

“Joel—”

“You need to cum,” he said, gently but firmly. “You need it, don’t you?”

“I—I think so—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Think real hard. Wanna cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately, now chasing every movement of your hips, the pressure was building and building, your clit throbbing against the strength of his thigh. He let you do your thing, just watched you unravel slowly, whispering praise like poison in your ear.

“That’s it. Just like that. Look at you—so sweet and dumb, so fuckin’ precious. Bet if I let you cum like this, you’ll be beggin’ me to show you what ridin’ my cock feels like next, huh?”

“I think—I think I’m gonna—Joel—”

You cried out, back arching, your thighs shaking as the orgasm hit. It was hot and dizzying and so much stronger than you expected just from grinding him, but you’d never done anything like this, never been talked through it like this, handled like this. You kept rocking even through it, drawn-out and needy, until Joel’s hands stilled you.

“Shh. That’s it. That’s enough, baby. I got you.”

Joel held you close through it, murmuring praise into your hair, arms wrapped around you like you were something breakable. When your breath finally slowed and your hips stilled, you whispered, “Joel…”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed, voice small. “I think I’m ready.”

He stilled, blinking, breathing harder now.

“Yeah?” he said after a second, thumb still pressed to your mouth. “You sure, sweetheart? Don’t say it if you’re not. I can wait. I’ll fuckin’ wait forever for you.”

You nodded. “I want it to be you.”

Even though that orgasm had been mind-blowing, your body was still craving more. You were a little scared, but you knew Joel loved you, and that he’d take such good care of you in every step of the way.

Joel let out a shaky, wrecked sound and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. He kissed you like you’d given him something holy. He felt so honored to be the one, the only one, to take that part of you. To be the first cock to stretch you open, to fill you up completely.

“Alright,” he rasped. “Alright, baby girl. We’ll go slow. Real slow. I got you.”

He laid you spread open on the bed, softly, like you were made out of glass. He kissed down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, murmuring as he went.

“I just…” You swallowed, cheeks burning. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.”

Joel exhaled softly, his voice dropped low.

“S’a stretch, baby. First time always is. You might hurt some. But I’ll be right here the whole time. I’ll help you through it. You just gotta listen to me, yeah?”

You nodded.

“Gonna be s’good for me,” he breathed. “You’ve been s’good for me already, haven’t you? Lettin’ me teach you. Lettin’ me touch you. And now you’re gonna let me take you all the way. That what you want, baby? Want daddy to take your little virgin pussy?”

Your thighs trembled. “Y-Yeah.”

Joel pulled back just long enough to wrap his hand around himself, hard, and heavy, all over again.

“Look at this cock, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You really think you’re ready for all this?”

Your eyes flicked to his cock, shy but sure, it was all you needed right now. “I want it.”

He groaned, moving between your thighs again. “Alright. Gonna give you just a little first, okay? Gotta stretch you open slow, baby. I ain’t lettin’ you hurt.”

His fingers stroked through your folds, slick and ready, spreading you for him, and then you felt the broad head of his cock, warm and insistent, pressing right at your entrance.

“Deep breath,” Joel said, his voice like velvet. “Just the tip first, like last time. Let daddy in.”

You exhaled, and he took that moment to push forward, just barely, just enough to breach you. You gasped, your whole body tightened around him instinctively, but Joel was already soothing you, already leaning over you with kisses and murmurs and praise.

You gasped—your hands flew to his arms, nails digging in. “Joel—oh—wait—”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed. “I know, baby. I know. It’s a lot. Daddy’s so sorry.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. You were shaking, even if he wasn’t moving.

he whispered. “Too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “Just… hurts more than I thought.”

“I know, baby. I know it hurts. Just breathe f’me. You’re doin’ great.”

You tried to breathe through it, feeling the dull burn of being opened by something too big, too thick, but still, you wanted it, you wanted him.

“Shhh, baby, that’s it. You’re doin’ so good. Tight little thing, ain’t you? Gonna suck me in so sweet. I knew you’d be tight, but fuck—you’re squeezin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cry as he gave another slow push.

“It’s a lot, huh?” he whispered against your ear. “Big cock stretchin’ you for the first time. Feels full, don’t it?”

You nodded, jaw trembling. “So full.”

“Too much?”

“No. Keep going, daddy.”

His breath hitched. “Jesus. You’re so fuckin’ brave, baby girl.”

And then finally—finally—he was all the way in, buried to the hilt, making you gasp again. Joel froze, holding you tightly, his whole body shaking above yours.

“Christ,” he groaned. “You took all of me. First time and you’re takin’ me so goddamn deep. That pussy was made for me. You feel that?”

You could only nod. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes. Joel looked down, utterly wrecked by the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole, of that tight little hole stretched around him.

You could feel everything, every twitch, every throb, every part of him stretching you open in ways you’d never imagined. It hurt, he was so big, and your body was struggling to take it, but you knew the pain would fade, your just needed to give your body a minute to stretch, to get used to him, and once it passed, the good part would come.

Joel rocked gently, barely moving, just letting your body adjust. You whimpered at the pressure, at the fullness, at the intensity of it all.

Joel just babied you. “Such a sweet girl. So fuckin’ brave. You lettin’ me be your first, baby? Makin’ me feel honored.”

“Don’t move yet,” you whispered. “Just… stay.”

“I ain’t movin’,” Joel said. “You tell me when. This pussy belongs to you until you give me permission.”

Your heart ached by how sweet he was, you wrapped your arms around his neck, held on, breathed, and slowly, the pain dulled, the sting turned to heat, the fullness turned to need, you needed more, you desperatly needed friction.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You can move now.”

Joel pulled back, just a little, and then rolled his hips forward, slow and steady. And again, and again. Each stroke made you gasp, made you cling to his shoulders, the feeling of him sliding deep, hot and heavy and perfect, dragging against every tender, untouched nerve inside you.

Every thrust was shallow, slow, careful, but it still made your thighs tremble. The pain was a shadow now, replaced with a tight, delicious ache and something filthy blooming low in your belly.

“Good girl,” he kept whispering. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good. I knew you would. This sweet little pussy was just waitin’ for me, wasn’t it?”

You moaned so loud your throat felt sore. You would’ve been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been so completely lost in the overwhelming, electric pleasure coursing through your body.

He was trying to hold back, trying to stay gentle, because he knew how important a first time was, and you were his baby, you deserved for it to be nothing but soft and sweet. But in the back of his mind, he was already tasting the future, already imagining how he’d have you in all fours soon, when your body was ready to take more. He’d be rough then, fucking you deep and hard, just like he knew you’d want it once you got a real taste of him. But not now. Not yet.

“You wanted this cock,” he murmured. “You needed it. Wanted daddy to teach you how to take it. Fuck—look at you, baby girl, takin’ every inch. Buryin’ my cock all the way in this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, not quite from pain anymore, but from how full and overwhelmed you were. Joel kissed them away, he started to move faster, the heat built with every slow thrust, every slick grind of his hips against yours, and then his hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

You arched under him, sobbing louder now, overwhelmed and shaking from how deep he was. It felt like he was in your stomach, stretching places you didn’t even know could feel pleasure.

“J-Joel, it’s so much,” you whimpered. “I—didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He groaned low, voice thick and wrecked.

“That’s right, baby. That’s me all the way up in there,” he murmured, pressing his palm flat against your lower belly, feeling the bulge where his cock reached so deep it made your eyes roll back.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Want this little pussy to milk me dry. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Y-Yes—yes—Joel—”

You didn’t even have to try, the tip of his cock found that perfect spot inside you, that sweet, aching place you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the moment he hit it you saw stars, and then he hit it again… and again… and again.

You came hard, it was all so new, so perfect. You clenched around him, voice breaking, and the spasms of your cunt made Joel snap. His thrusts got rougher, deeper, his hips stuttering as he groaned your name over and over again.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck—gonna fill you up, baby girl, give you every fuckin’ drop—mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

He spilled inside you, grinding deep, holding you to him as you both fell apart. You clung to him, trembling, panting, tears still slipping down your cheeks. It was strange, so strange, a sudden heat blooming inside you, you swore you could feel his thick and warm seed being spilled inside you, and then sliding back out, dripping from your sore, used hole, slick and messy between your thighs. You whimpered at the sensation, so sensitive now that even the slow trickle of it made you twitch.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “So goddamn good. You’re mine now, baby. Every part of you.”

Afterward, Joel gave a few slow, shallow thrusts to push his cum deeper inside you before going completely soft. Even as he pulled out with a low groan, he watched the last of his seed slowly drip from your hole.

“Fuck… look at that, baby,” he rasped, his voice still thick with lust and awe. “Can’t even keep it in. I filled you that good.”

You could barely speak, barely breathe. All you could do was lay there and feel his release leaking out of you in hot waves.

“Daddy made a mess in you,” he murmured, his thumb gently playing with the warm slickness, spreading it over your folds and making you flinch from the sudden sensitivity. “D’you want me to clean you up, baby?”

“Mmm, can I stay like this, daddy?” you whispered. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

It felt… nice. Comforting, even. Being this marked by him. Joel just nodded, he didn’t move away from you, he just stroked your face, your hair, kissed your cheeks and whispered how good you’d done, how proud he was, how much he loved you.

And even though your body ached, your legs were still trembling, and your thighs were sticky with him, you felt safer than you ever had in your life.

He kissed your face, your hair, your lips. You were still crying a little.

“You did so good, baby girl,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ good f’me. I’m so proud of you.”

You held onto him, safe in his arms, and whispered.

“…I love you.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought I could.”

A/N: This definitely ended up being much longer than I intended, especially for pure porn without plot, lol

I’m so happy to see how much you liked the previous part I posted🥹 I immediately started writing this other one, and I hope you enjoy it just as much. If you do, please consider showing some support, it would mean the world to me🩷🩷

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[barleyo]

Taste.

Hector Condicionado X F! Reader

A/N: quick quick quick little thirst for my sexy vent dwelling husband... ugh i need him bad

Tags: finger sucking, spit play, indirect kiss, oral fixation

Wordcount: ~0.4k

There wasn't much Hector liked about himself. Self-consciousness had always leeched into every facet of his life, more now that you had started being able to see him. It was easier when only he could see you, eyes following your daily life around the house.

What he did tolerate about himself were his hands and his voice. His ability to explain his yearning and desire for you in each word, his voice carrying it. The expressive nature of his hands, nimble and calloused as he reached out towards you. 

He spoke to you through the vents, only his eyes, hands, and arms visible. He felt it was best this way—for you to only see what he let you. Otherwise, well, he feared the worst case scenario. 

He feared laughter. Worse, perhaps disappointment. One wrong look and stifled chuckle would shatter him. He wouldn't take the chance. He knew you were curious, it was one thing he loved about you, but he couldn't yet allow you to see all of him.

For now, you would have to be satisfied with the bits and pieces he gave you. 

Hector held your gaze and your hands, running the rough pad of his thumb over your cheek. He would adjust your necklace here, fix your hair there, massage your shoulders. All simple ways to show his love for you. 

But when you weren't satisfied with that, he had other solutions.

Like now, as he shoved his fingers down your throat, letting his free hand cup your jaw and chiding you to relax your throat for him.

"Oh, my love," Hector cooed, his voice as silky and sweet as honey, "if you cannot handle my fingers in your mouth, how will you handle something more?"

Spit soaked your chin when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Wiry strings of saliva connected the both of you. The two, thick digits were coated.

He hummed at the sight. This was so close to what he actually wanted to do to you. He spread his hand apart, watching as the wetness dribbled down his palm and stretched between each finger. He wondered that if the vent weren't so high, perhaps the wetness on his hand would be from your cunt rather than your mouth. 

In a better world, maybe. In this one, he relished in the feeling regardless. 

"It's so unfair, isn't it?" he asked, tracing a finger over your bottom lip. "Truly, we're star-crossed. So close, yet so, so far, hm?"

He drew hand hands away from you, back into the comfort of his vent. With a deeply satisfied moan, he sucked your spit off of his hand, ridding his palm of any trail you left behind.

"At least from here, I can still taste you. I can still feel you."

[headspace-hotel]

considerations when putting fungus in a human body

what's it eating? Obviously the answer is that it's eating Blorbo. If it's eating his bones, that defeats the purpose. An intriguing possibility is that it's eating his bone marrow, which will destroy his immune system and ability to make blood. That's bad.

Plants and fungi readily form mutualistic symbiosis, but it is NOT simple. In mycorrhiza formation, fungi and plants produce tons of communication chemicals specifically made to communicate with the other symbiont, allowing them to detect each other's presence, "agree" to form symbiosis, adjust their gene expression so they can physically merge with each other, and engage in an ongoing exchange of signals to adjust their relationship. Plants have a deeply conserved, ancient, ancestral set of genes called the common symbiosis signalling pathway that codes for all of these chemicals and behaviors involved in symbiosis-forming, and analyses have consistently shown that the CSSP is around 500 million years old. That means that plants were doing mutualism with fungi before they emerged onto land, before they developed roots and leaves, before they recognizably were "plants" at all.

this is...jesus. it's so fundamental. it fucks me up so much that a relationship between two organisms can be older than either of those organisms having a form I would find recognizable. the fact of their relationship is more deeply embedded in their DNA than...the things that appear to make themselves, themselves.

sorry i always get distracted thinking about mycorrhizae

so basically you cant create a parallel to mycorrhizae with animals because the genetic underpinnings are so fundamental and load-bearing, its not a simple matter of inserting this or that gene, it's like. it's incomprehensible how much of what plants are is fundamentally connected to what fungi are. im not prepared to tackle that with scifi its so huge

so instead you would have to adapt a parasitic fungus to infect the host without causing widespread immune response, inflammation, and horrible side effects leading to deterioration and death, but also without being outright destroyed by the immune system.

mammalian cells are super intolerant of non-self stuff so you'd have to handwave that away with scifi bullshit, but you'd need to have like, bacteria that become endosymbiotic within the cells that prevent colonization of the wrong cells, but then you'd have to make sure the endosymbiosis "takes" within every cell, which...jesus

okay a more plausible idea might be that the fungus bones infection is a one-time thing where the fungi deposit the fibers/materials that are integrated with the bone and then are killed off. you'd have to suppress his immune system temporarily and make sure the infection doesn't kill him. if we go with the "it's eating his bone marrow" idea, he needs bone marrow transplants and might be permanently immunosuppressed and/or need periodic blood transfusions after.

it would also cause a ton of problems if the fungi spread to places they weren't supposed to during that infection process and ended up like. cementing his joints together or something.

dont genetically engineer fungus to eat your bone marrow its not a good idea

further on the character who gets Tortured In the Evil Science Facility. they basically took samples of his tissues, genetically altered them, grew organs and muscle fibers and stuff from the genetically altered cells, and re-implanted the genetically altered organs and tissues into him

That's one part, but I also think he has implants of super-strong materials in his bones and around his ribcage and spine to make him harder to kill or incapacitate. the metal bolts protruding through the skin are part of this

probably some kind of composite of metal and super-strong biomaterial that can adapt

If he breaks a bone the biomaterial can absorb the shock and fix the fragments in place so he can keep going

there are all kinds of materials that exist in nature that could be used to help develop a material that could be implanted into a fighter's body to make them superhuman. it could even be coded into his genes so he produces it naturally.

I also want to do something with endosymbiotic organisms. Plants have symbionts that live inside them and enhance their limits for survival. In a sci-fi story, what if endosymbiosis could enhance humans?

The symbiont could be a fungus or bacteria or something else, it could live in any tissue of the body and enhance a specific function.

A symbiont could help him to heal faster, cause resistance to chemical buildup in tissues so he can do things like dive deeper in water, go without oxygen longer, or exert muscles for longer, resist extremes of heat or cold

Now, the fun part: all of these things will be painful and horrifying to install and maintain, and cause unintended effects on his body that will be painful and horrifying to treat

Ideas...?

[peasack]

Hiya! Just want to say thank you for being such a talented writer! I love all your works so far, and look forward to seeing what kind of brilliance you create in the future. If you're still up for requests, could you do some hcs about how the group acts with a teen!reader who has a quieter, more shy, and sensitive personality?

AAA TYSSMMMM, and yes totally I loved writing thissss.

Hope you guys enjoy!!!

✦ Thunderbolts x Shy & sensitive Teen!Reader Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Alexei immediately assumes he needs to "fix" your shyness. He’s like “Ah! You are quiet because you are nervous! I will show you there is nothing to fear!” and proceeds to loudly, obnoxiously drag you into activities.

He genuinely means well, but his big, boisterous personality can overwhelm you at times. When you quietly step back or shrink away, he panics and tries to tone it down, but... he's not great at subtle.

Over time, he learns you actually like sitting quietly with people and that you open up best when it’s just the two of you, doing something like a puzzle or eating snacks. He starts seeking out those calmer moments with you.

Alexei loves to brag about you to the others like “My little one does not need to speak loudly to be strong! They are mighty in their own way!”

He becomes super protective. If anyone teases you about being quiet, he’s the first to defend you with a terrifying dad-glare like “Say it again. I dare you.”

✦ Bucky Barnes

Bucky gets you instantly. He’s also a quiet, sensitive person at heart, so your calm energy makes him feel safe. He’s actually super comfortable around you because there’s no pressure to constantly talk.

He’s the king of soft, silent gestures. handing you a snack, holding out a book he thinks you’ll like, sitting with you in comfortable silence. You don’t need words with him.

When you do speak, even if it’s just a few words, Bucky always listens like it’s the most important thing in the world. He never talks over you.

He’s very patient when you struggle to open up, and he never rushes you. “Take your time, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

If someone makes you uncomfortable, Bucky is silently at your side, his presence alone enough to make people back off. He’s your quiet guardian.

✦ Bob Reynolds

Bob is very soft with you. He knows what it’s like to feel like you take up too much space, so he makes space for you in the kindest ways.

He talks to you in a gentle voice, always making sure you’re okay with the conversation or the environment. “You wanna step outside for some air? It’s a little loud in here.”

He’s ridiculously proud when you trust him enough to open up. The first time you make a joke or initiate a conversation with him, he literally beams for the rest of the day.

Bob likes doing quiet hobbies with you, drawing, reading, watching clouds because it gives you both a chance to bond without the pressure of talking constantly.

He’ll fiercely defend your softness. “There’s nothing wrong with being sensitive. It means you feel things deeply. That’s not weakness.”

✦ John Walker

At first, John is unsure how to interact with you. He’s more used to loud, headstrong people, and your quiet nature throws him off.

He accidentally overwhelms you sometimes (he talks with his hands a lot, kinda barks orders) but the moment he sees you shrink back, he instantly softens. “Hey, hey, sorry, kid, didn’t mean to snap. You good?”

Over time, he starts actively seeking your input. “What d’you think? I wanna hear your opinion.” Even when you give a short answer, he takes it seriously.

He’s super protective of you at school or out in public. If anyone teases you for being quiet, John is immediately in their face like “Problem?”

John’s love language with you is doing acts of service, fixing your stuff, carrying your bag, making sure you’re fed, because he knows words aren’t always your thing.

✦ Yelena Belova

Yelena is so gentle with you. She’s playful and teases you sometimes, but never in a way that pushes your boundaries. She loves your softness, it reminds her of the part of herself she didn’t get to grow up with.

She’s really good at pulling you out of your shell, but she never rushes it. She’ll offer you snacks, invite you on small adventures, and let you say no without making a big deal out of it.

She starts purposefully sitting next to you during movie nights, quietly offering you bits of popcorn and checking in with a soft glance.

When you finally feel comfortable enough to call her your friend or share something personal, Yelena acts like it’s the biggest honor in the world. “You trust me? Good. I will kill for you now.”

She lowkey starts teaching you self-defense, not to make you aggressive, but to help you feel more confident. “Soft is good. Soft and safe is better.”

✦ Ava Starr

Ava is very attuned to people’s emotions, so she immediately senses your discomfort in loud or overwhelming spaces. She naturally shields you from attention without making it obvious.

She’s not super talkative either, so your quiet energy actually makes her feel more at ease. She’ll quietly sit with you, offering a calm presence and a cup of tea.

Ava can sometimes come off as a little intense, but around you, she softens significantly. She slows her breathing, lowers her voice, and always gives you space to speak.

She becomes really protective over you. If someone dismisses you for being quiet, Ava cuts them down with a sharp glare and an even sharper comment. “Just because they’re quiet doesn’t mean they don’t have something to say.”

She loves doing peaceful, grounding activities with you. Gardening, listening to music, long walks in silence, because she knows you feel safe when things aren’t loud.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

AAAAAA I love you guys so much for leaving requests I swear<333

Hope this was alright for what you asked!!

[fandomflotilla]

War of the Roses: Proposals

Ruby: Jaune, you’ve been close with us for a while now, and you really mean a lot to both me and Weiss.

Weiss: And we wanted to do this for tax purposes anyway, so…

Ruby: Will you marry us?

Jaune: Yes! Absolutely!

Weiss: Oh my god, you’ve made us so happy, Jaune.

Jaune: When’s the wedding, I need to find a new suit for the occasion!

Ruby: Three months!!!!!

Three months later…

Ruby: …Jaune. Why are you wearing a priest’s outfit?

Jaune: …because I’m marrying you and Weiss together? I mean I have the certification for being a deacon right here but I figured I’d look the part too.

Ruby: Deacon? Why would the you need to be a deacon…oh no.

Weiss: Why “oh no”? It’s not like he thought he was just…the…officiant…oh my god…

Jaune: …what?

Ruby: Jaune.

Ruby: When we said “Will you marry us?”, we meant will you be our GROOM.

Jaune: Oh.

Jaune: OH.

Jaune: Wait is THAT why you had me plan the honeymoon??????

Weiss/Ruby: YES.

Jaune: I THOUGHT I WAS JUST BEING A THOROUGH AND SUPPORTIVE OFFICIANT.

Ruby: WHY DO YOU THINK WE BOUGHT SO MANY CONDOMS?????

Jaune: I THOUGHT YOU WERE PRACTICING SAFE SEX!!!!!

Ruby: WHY WOULD WE NEED CONDOMS IF WE WERE ONLY HAVING LESBIAN SEX?????

Weiss: Wait, you told Jaune to buy condoms? Why would we need that?

Ruby: WHY WOULD WE NOT NEED CONDOMS????????

Weiss: I thought the point of getting married was to legally be able to rawdog it?? And tax breaks???? Is that not the point of marriage????????????

Ruby: THE POINT OF MARRIAGE IS TO LOVE AND SUPPORT EACH OTHER TILL DEATH DOES US PART, NOT RAWDOGGING IT AND TAX BREAKS.

Weiss: Wait, really? Huh. Learn something new every day. Honestly that makes marriage seem a lot more stressful. Not sure I would’ve agreed if I knew that.

Jaune: If it makes you feel better, Weiss, legally rawdogging it was the reason my parents said they got married, and they seem perfectly happy.

Weiss: Don’t you have 6 sisters?

Jaune: Seven.

Weiss: Damn. Okay, good to know the record to beat.

Ruby: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!?!???

Further into the pews…

Yang: *sniffle*

Yang: It’s so beautiful…my baby sister is getting married…

Taiyang: *sniffle*

Taiyang: It’s just like when Raven, Summer, Qrow and I got married. Right down to the rawdogging.

Qrow: Don’t remind me of that shit, Tai. I’ve spent 20 fucking years trying to forget that particular conversation. You’re lucky I haven’t divorced you.

Blake: Are none of you the least bit concerned that Ruby is basically the only sane person in this three way marriage? Are they going to call it off now?

Qrow: I assure you, Ruby is the least sane person onstage. The other two are dumb enough to not know what they’re doing, Ruby’s smart enough to know exactly what they’re doing, and is doing it anyway.

Ruby: *distantly* SO DO YOU IDIOTS WANT TO GET MARRIED OR NOT?

Weiss/Jaune: *distant murmuring*

Ruby: *distantly* GOOD. NOW IS THERE ANY OTHER IDIOT IN THIS FUCKING ROOM WHO CAN OFFICIATE THIS WEDDING????

Qrow: And that’s my cue. *gets up and walks down the aisle*

Blake: …you all deeply concern me.

Yang: Blakeeeeee, can we have a messy unorthodox wedding with Sunnnnn????????

Blake: …*sigh*

Blake: Fuck my life.

[4barbatos]

✦ toxic!scaramouche x fem!reader

i love you in the worst way

cw: dead dove: do not eat. abuse (emotional, verbal, physical, sexual), toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslighting, dubcon content, rough sex, self harm mentioned, power imbalance, unaddressed mental illness, severe codependency, trauma bonding, victim blaming & internalized guilt. modern au.

a/n: this one’s for anon that went absolutely feral in my inbox begging for more toxic scara 🙏 here u go babygirl. i hope ur okay. i think something is deeply wrong with u (said with love & concern)

you should’ve left when he first called you clingy.

but it was early then — early enough that it still felt like flirting. the kind of teasing that made your cheeks warm, made you nudge his shoulder and roll your eyes. he said it when you reached for his hand in public. when you kissed his cheek one too many times. when you sent him two texts in a row.

“you’re so clingy.”

he smirked. leaned in. kissed your jaw after.

and you smiled, because it was gentle.

he was sweet back then. or at least he could be. soft in ways that made you ache. he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, run his fingers along your thigh under the table, give you this small little look like he was seeing something no one else ever had. he’d let you trace the veins on his hands when you laid in bed together, and he never pulled away.

he was quiet, closed-off, like something wild trying to act tame. you thought it meant he had depth. that there were layers under his cold exterior. that his distance wasn’t cruelty — it was pain. you wanted to be the one he unraveled for. the one he let in.

and he did. slowly.

you started seeing him more. he didn’t text much — and when he did, it was short, half-thought replies. but he’d show up at your apartment with bruised knuckles and tired eyes, drop his keys on the counter, and fall into your bed like he belonged there. he never said thank you. never said i missed you. but he’d rest his head on your chest. kiss your wrist absentmindedly. wrap an arm around your waist while you slept.

and that was enough. back then, it was enough.

you let him pull you into his world.

you’d sit cross-legged on his unmade bed while he chain-smoked out the window, hoodie halfway off his shoulder, his jaw tense and eyes half-lidded. the room always smelled like smoke and sweat. his desk was a mess of ash and receipts and bent-up cigarette packs. vodka bottles lined his shelves like decoration. he never had food in his fridge. he lived like he didn’t plan on being around long.

but he let you in. that had to mean something.

he let you talk while he said nothing. let you trace the scars on his arms and didn’t flinch. let you cry after a bad day and only sometimes told you to stop. you’d pour your heart out in texts and he’d reply hours later with “that sucks” or “you’ll be fine.”

and you told yourself it was enough.

because he let you see him when no one else did.

because he didn’t push you away — not really.

he just didn’t pull you closer.

you laughed at his mean comments. thought they were cute. he’d say, “you talk too much,” or “why are you always so emotional?” and you’d laugh, nervously, and try to stop talking. try to shrink a little smaller. try to be easier to love.

he never said he loved you.

but he stayed. he kept coming back.

you mistook presence for affection.

it started slowly. so slow you didn’t realize you were drowning until your mouth was already full of water.

you missed his call once, and he didn’t text you for two days. you told him you were seeing an old friend, and he got cold. said, “funny how you always have time for everyone but me.”

you asked if he was okay and he said, “don’t start.”

you touched him wrong and he flinched away.

you said something he didn’t like and he left without a word.

he stopped calling you pretty. stopped answering when you said i miss you. stopped sleeping over unless he was drunk or high or angry at someone else.

and you apologized. for everything. for nothing. for things that weren’t your fault.

he’d ghost you for days, then show up at your door like nothing happened. collapse into your bed, kiss your neck, press his knee between your legs like he hadn’t left you crying four nights ago.

you let him. every time.

you said, “where were you?”

he said, “don’t start.”

you asked if he loved you, and he rolled his eyes.

said, “what does that even mean?”

you started keeping your feelings small, your voice softer, your words careful. you stopped crying in front of him. stopped asking him to stay. you’d beg silently, in the way you kissed him. the way you let him touch you even when it hurt. the way you said i love you like a prayer he never answered.

the shift was so slow you barely noticed it.

but then you did.

you noticed that you didn’t laugh around him anymore. that he never kissed you after sex. that he called you dramatic when you cried and said “you’re lucky i even deal with this.” that he didn’t ask about your day. didn’t say goodnight. didn’t care if you were okay.

you noticed how you flinched when he raised his voice.

how you waited for him to reply like your worth depended on it.

how his silence made you sick and his attention made you sicker.

you noticed you weren’t you anymore.

you were his. only his. always his.

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the second he walked in.

he didn’t say hi. didn’t ask how you were. didn’t even look at you at first — just dropped his bag by the door, ran a hand through his hair like he was already annoyed, and asked, “did you miss me?”

you nodded. said yeah. said a lot.

he didn’t answer. didn’t smile.

he just stared.

his eyes were sharp like he was waiting for you to say the wrong thing. his hands were cold when they touched your waist. his grip was tighter than it needed to be. he kissed you like he wanted to shut you up.

and you let him.

because this was the only time he touched you anymore. the only time he looked at you. the only time you felt like you existed to him. even if it hurt. especially when it hurt.

he spat cruel things against your skin. called you names you didn’t recognize yourself in. slapped you when you said i love you like it offended him. pressed his hand around your throat like he wanted to crush the part of you that still hoped.

you cried.

he didn’t care.

you touched him gently once — just once — and he pushed your hand away. told you to stop acting pathetic. to open your mouth and make yourself useful. said he didn’t want to hear a sound out of you unless it was you begging.

you begged.

you begged like you meant it.

not because you were desperate for him — but because if you didn’t give him everything, he might leave. and if he left, you didn’t know what you were without him.

you let him use you until your body ached. until you couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. until you were sore and stretched and shaking and empty. until it was over.

and he just got up. didn’t speak. didn’t touch you again. didn’t even look at you as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his phone. like you were nothing. like you were never anything.

the door slammed shut behind him.

you laid there on the sheets you’d just washed, legs sticky, throat bruised, stomach twisting. the room was quiet. you could still smell him on your skin. and it made you feel like you were rotting.

you didn’t cry. you just stared at the ceiling. blinking slowly. feeling like something had been carved out of you. like there was less of you now than there was before.

you touched your own wrist. lightly. the only tenderness you’d felt all night.

and you wondered if this is what love was supposed to feel like.

if maybe you’d just gotten it wrong.

if maybe this was the best you were ever going to get.

you didn’t text him the next morning.

you didn’t check if he got home. didn’t ask if he was okay. didn’t say i miss you, even though the words clawed at the back of your throat like they wanted to be let out.

you told yourself: if he wants me, he’ll reach out.

he didn’t.

you left him on read the next time he messaged you. just once. it was stupid. petty. small. but it felt like control. like a single breath of air after being underwater too long.

you started taking longer to respond. started saying i’m busy more. started turning your phone face-down on the table when you were out.

and it only took three days for him to notice.

you stared at the screen for a long time.

he was doing it again. twisting it. making it seem like it was your fault. like you were the inconsistent one. like he hadn’t been the one who disappeared for three days just last week.

and then:

and there it was. the push.

you felt your stomach drop. like you were the one who’d done something wrong. like you owed him more of yourself, even though he never gave you anything in return.

you didn’t respond.

that night, you turned your phone off. didn’t check. didn’t break.

and in the morning, he was at your door.

flowers in one hand.

coffee in the other.

that soft look on his face — the one he only wears when he knows you’re slipping.

he kissed your temple like he used to. held your face in his hands. said, “i’ve been thinking about you all week.” and “i miss how we used to be.”

you wanted to scream. wanted to slam the door in his face.

but instead, you let him in.

you cried reading it.

because he’d said the exact same thing two months ago. and again a month before that. and again last week.

he always says i’m trying like it’s supposed to fix the blood in your mouth. like the bruises on your hips are just growing pains. like the silence and the absence and the backhanded words were all part of the process.

and every time, you believed it a little less.

but not enough to leave.

because part of you still wanted to be the one he changed for. still believed in the boy who kissed your shoulder that first night and whispered that he didn’t know how to be good but wanted to learn. still held onto the way he looked at you like he needed you more than air.

you were addicted to the potential of him.

you were starving, and he kept feeding you crumbs.

and it was never enough.

but it was always just enough to keep you there.

you let him crawl back into your bed. you let him hold you again like he hadn’t made you feel disgusting the night before. you let him kiss your throat — right over the spot he pressed too hard — and you sighed like it was forgiveness.

you told yourself: this time will be different.

but it wasn’t.

he was sweet for three days. he bought you your favorite snacks. he played with your hair while you fell asleep. he sent you texts in the middle of the day that said “miss you” and “thinking about you.” and it was everything you’d ever wanted to hear.

you started to feel warm again. started to hope.

and then it cracked. just like it always did.

you told him you were going out with a friend — just dinner, nothing special — and he went cold instantly.

you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. red lipstick. flushed cheeks. trembling hands.

you weren’t even sure who you were dressing up for anymore — yourself? your friend? the girl you used to be?

and suddenly, you didn’t want to go out at all.

you canceled.

he came over later that night like he hadn’t ruined it. curled up behind you in bed. whispered, “thank you for listening.”

and you hated that it made your chest feel warm.

you hated that you needed his approval like oxygen.

you hated him.

you hated yourself more.

you didn’t even recognize your own voice when you said, “do you even love me?”

he didn’t answer for a long time.

just ran his fingers down your back. slow. quiet.

then, finally:

“don’t ask me shit like that.”

you nodded.

of course.

you watched the ceiling while he fell asleep beside you. watched the shadows shift with the headlights outside. your phone lit up once — a message from the friend you never saw — and you didn’t open it.

you were tired.

not the kind that sleep fixed.

the kind that settled in your bones.

the kind that made you wonder if you were even real anymore.

or just something he built to need him.

you didn’t reply.

you just stared at the message until your eyes burned.

and wondered if maybe he was right.

maybe you were hard to love.

you wake up before him.

his arm’s draped over your waist, heavy like a shackle. your phone’s on the floor, your body aches, and your throat is raw — you don’t remember crying, but you must’ve. your cheeks are sticky. your eyes sting.

he’s still asleep.

and you just lie there.

it’s not peaceful. not gentle. you’re not watching him with love in your chest. you’re watching him like a stranger you’re too scared to run from. like you’re cataloging the details so you can remember how you got here.

his breath tickles your neck.

he shifts and murmurs your name like he means it.

and still — you feel nothing.

nothing except that gnawing pull in your chest that says i should go.

but you won’t.

you think about leaving a lot lately.

not in the dramatic way. not with a suitcase or slammed doors.

more like: what if i just didn’t text him back one day?

what if i just… stopped answering?

but you know better.

he’d show up.

he always does.

when he thinks he’s losing you, he becomes everything you ever wanted.

just long enough for you to forget what he is the rest of the time.

you used to fall for it.

you still do.

but now it feels different.

you’re not hoping he’ll change anymore.

you’re just too tired to try again.

you finally get up.

your body’s stiff. sore. you wince when you walk to the bathroom. there’s a bruise blooming on your hip — from his grip or the wall or maybe both. you don’t look at your face in the mirror. you don’t want to see it.

you brush your teeth in silence.

rinse your mouth out twice.

it still tastes like him.

and there it is again.

the subtle coldness. the way he makes you feel like the problem for anticipating the pain.

you put your phone down.

you stare out the window for a long time, until the light gets too sharp and your head starts to hurt. you sit back on the edge of the bed and he’s still asleep, like none of this matters.

you think, he’s never going to love me right.

and then, i’m never going to leave.

not because you don’t want to.

but because some part of you — the part that’s still cracked open and bleeding — needs him to stay.

even if he’s killing you.

maybe it’s not about love anymore.

maybe it’s just about surviving each other.

you don’t pack a bag.

you don’t write a note.

you crawl back into bed, curl against him, and let yourself disappear.

just a little more.

just enough to make it through the day.

a/n: if u think ur messed up for liking this, dont worry — im probably worse 🧐

[bees-library3]

Stay

Summary: After a routine hostage extraction goes wrong, you are shot while covering for Bucky, and the consequences are devastating.

Warnings/Tags: violence, gunshot wound, blood loss, trauma, HEAVY angst, canon level of violence, there is no happy ending, death, established relationship, female reader (she/her), no use of y/n

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I deeply apologize for the heartache that I'm about to put y'all through. If you follow me on the account that I have for The Walking Dead (@twd-bee3) and this looks familiar, it's because it was originally posted as a Daryl Dixon piece, and I just rewrote it to fit Bucky. I've been doing that lately so that I have things to post while I write new Marvel-themed works. Anyway, sorry for the fact that there's no happy ending. Love y'all <3.

The sound of gunfire splintered the air, and everything blurred around the two of you. This was supposed to be a simple hostage rescue, but you had run into complications. It was only you and Bucky, so things were getting dark fast. You guys had almost reached a secure room when there was another loud crack, and with you being in front of Bucky, you were hit by the stray.

You felt a sharp pain in your right side and cried out. Looking down, you saw the crimson blooming across your tank top and froze. “Oh shit.”

Hearing your pained gasp, Bucky spun you around so that he could look you over. He glanced down and saw the blood soaking your shirt. A cold sense of dread washed over him, and his eyes went wide.

“Fuck. No, no, no.”

“I don't know what to do, James.”

You were taking labored breaths, and you were already starting to stumble. The shock was setting in fast, and Bucky was even more desperate to get you to safety. The last of the men was bound to find you two if you stayed where you were. Acting on pure instinct, he lifted you into his arms and started running again. He was careful not to drop you and clutched your body close to his chest.

“Stay with me, baby. You're okay. We're almost there.”

His words were rushed, and his voice was strained. It felt like it took hours, but you finally reached the target room, and he made sure that the perimeter was clear of threats. Bucky laid you on a couch and frantically tore your tank top to get a clearer view of the gunshot. It was deep. Really fucking deep. There was no exit wound, but he tried to maintain some semblance of hope.

The blood was pouring from your abdomen, and he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. This was his girl, and she was bleeding out in a foreign room. Bucky used his hands to apply firm pressure, but the bleeding was relentless. Tears streamed down his face as he tried desperately to keep you with him.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just- just stay awake for me. You can do that, right?”

“I'm really trying, but I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired, Bucky.”

“Don't say that. You're okay. I've got you.”

Bucky kept his palms pressed against your stomach and watched as the blood seeped past his fingers like water. He needed to stop the bleeding before he could even think about attempting to stitch you up. Knowing that he needed to do more, he took off his shirt and applied more force against the wound.

You were only growing paler, and your eyes kept fluttering shut. You were trying to be strong and keep them open, but it was increasingly becoming more difficult. The sight of his baby going out on him made his chest feel heavy. He couldn't give up, though.

“Hey, sweetheart. I need you to stay with me. Please. Talk or something.”

Forcing your eyes open again, you nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. Can you tell me something good?”

“Something good?” It took him a moment, but he was able to think of something, and he smiled weakly. “Remember that trip we're supposed to take?”

“Yeah. You're gonna take me to the beach and we're gonna put our feet-” your words were cut off with a sharp gasp, but you pushed through and kept speaking softly. “Our feet in the water. Sam's coming with us.”

Bucky's heart ached hearing how hard it was for you to speak, but he was proud of you for trying. You were making an effort to stay with him - that was all that he could ask for.

“Yeah, baby. We're all going to the beach. You aren't getting in the water, though. You never learned to swim.”

His words were teasing, but his tone was forced. He was grasping at straws to keep you awake. Bucky looked back down at the wound to see that the bleeding hadn't stopped. Your breath kept hitching, and the pit in his stomach grew. The shirt was soaked in your blood, and his forearms were caked in it - there was no fixing this. He didn't want to stop, but it was clear that his efforts were in vain.

Making eye contact with his girl again, exhaustion was written all over your face. The most that Bucky could do now was make you comfortable. Taking a shaky breath, he removed his hands from the fabric and gently stroked your cheek. The tears continued to flow.

Seeing your usually stoic boyfriend cry and the heartbreak in his gaze, you reached up to gently swipe some tears from his face. Your movements were weak, but it was obvious that you were doing your best to comfort him. You gave him a small smile and spoke again, your voice strained.

“Shhh, it's okay, my love.”

“No, don't try to comfort me. Not when you're dying in my fucking arms.”

His voice was rough and his tone was harsh, but it was obvious that he was devastated. Bucky couldn't stop crying, and his chest felt tight. Too tight. He knew that he needed to be strong for you, but he struggled to pull it together. He couldn't even speak through the sobs, so he resorted to gently stroking your cheek. Needing to be closer to you, he sat on the couch beside you and pulled you into his lap. He had never felt pain like this, and he could feel something breaking deep inside of him. This was a man who had lost so much, yet nothing compared to the way that his heart was breaking.

The sight of Bucky breaking down almost hurt more than the gunshot itself. His holding you was a small comfort, but you were still quickly fading. Your breathing continued to slow, and your eyes kept closing. You forced them back open and attempted to keep talking. Wiping his cheek again, you let your hand rest on the side of his face.

“I love you so fucking much, you know that right? Loving you is the only thing that I've gotten right.”

That only served to make him sob harder, and Bucky felt like a part of him was dying with you. He took ragged breaths and spoke through the tears. “I love you, sweetheart. More than anything. I'm so sorry that I'm not able to fix this.”

“You can't fix everything, James. This- this was bound to happen. I'm just glad that you're here with me.”

“Are you in any pain, baby?”

You felt a bit cold, but you couldn't feel the wound anymore. That only meant one thing - you were almost there. You shook your head and gently stroked his unshaven jaw. It was harder for you to speak, and your answers had been reduced to just a few words at a time. “No pain.”

Your answer confirmed what he already knew: he was losing his baby. By some miracle, Bucky was able to compose himself, and his tears slowed. He managed to keep the tremor in his voice to a minimum. He didn't want you worrying about him in your final moments.

“That's good. I don't want you to hurt. You want me to keep talking?”

Your eyelids flittered again, and you gave him a small nod. You were too drained to speak at this point, and your breathing was almost imperceptible. Your pupils were dilated, and it was hard for you to concentrate. You were listening to him, though.

“Remember when we came back from dinner the other night and Alpine had scratched up the side of our couch? She was purring and everything. Thought she'd done somethin' good. You nearly pissed your pants laughing so hard, and that only encouraged her more.”

Your lips curved in a small smile, but your gaze had started to lose focus. It was only a matter of minutes now, and the idea of that made Bucky feel hollow. He kept talking and absentmindedly stroked your cheek, though.

“Oh, remember the time when she brought that injured little bird into the house and you were hysterical? You thought that I was so mean for laughing. I felt like a total asshole, but you're cute when you get like that. You've got the biggest heart.”

Bucky kept rambling until he felt your chest still, and he glanced down to see that your lips were parted slightly. The eyes that he always got lost in were still open, but they lacked their usual light. You were gone.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Openly sobbing now, Bucky whispered softly and used his fingertips to gently close your eyes. He was at a complete loss for where to go from here. As he contemplated how to get you back home, he leaned his face down and gently kissed your lips. They were already slightly cooler than usual, and their pretty pink color had faded.

The two of you could probably get away with staying in this room for a few hours. It was late at night, and the space was secure enough. Besides, Bucky wasn't overly concerned about what would happen to him if he were found by those men. You were no longer here to fuss over his safety. The reminder made him sob harder, and his whole body was wracked with the force of it. He slowly rocked your limp form like a child and whispered unkept promises to you throughout the night.

[rainrot4me]

The hc on Clockwork drawing Toby makes me wonder. What IS your opinion on Toby x Clockwork/Ticciwork?

Oh, where do I begin. To me, Ticciwork is like a gunpowder x lighter situation. They’re definitely exes who keep getting back together and splitting up again, but I feel a deep love for one-another that nobody else really gets.

Nat’s calculated, hardened, with a tight grip on her emotions—but she feels deeply. She’s the kind of person who would scoff at feelings while secretly craving stability, protection, someone who sees her scars and doesn’t flinch. She works with control—mechanical precision, trauma that forced her into maturity far too fast.

On the other hand, Toby’s chaotic, impulsive, and often out of touch with his own emotional landscape. He’s rough around the edges, but there’s this raw honesty in him that Nat would notice—and might even crave. His tics, his temper, his noise—those could unsettle her at first. But over time, I think she’d see the vulnerability beneath all of it.

Howeverrrrrrr, they’re manic. Put two crazy, traumatized people together and you’ll get an explosion before you get anything kind.

They break up at least three times a year. And every time, it ends the same way: with bruised lips, sharp words, and one of them slamming the door. But they never stay away. Toby throws things. Not at her—never at her—but around her. He can’t handle the silence. Can’t handle the thought of losing her. Natalie stands like stone, arms crossed, eyes burning. “You always ruin this. Why can’t you ever just be satisfied?” But two nights later, he’s outside her window, soaked in blood and rain, shivering like a kid. And she lets him in. Always.

They’ve seen each other at their worst. Not the messy proxy shit—the real stuff. The things no one else knows. She knows about the way he cries in his sleep but never lets the tears fall. He knows she doesn’t wind her clock when she’s overwhelmed—lets the ticking stop because she can’t bear to feel the time pass. They never talk about it. But they both remember.

Most nights, he finds her in the bathroom, floor tile cold against her legs, trembling hands trying to hold herself together. He sits beside her. Doesn’t say a word. Just slides a hoodie over her shoulders and rests his head on her knee.

Now for everyone’s favorite part, the sex.

It’s angry. Gripping. Desperate. Like they’re trying to punish each other for still loving this much. She claws at his back like she’s digging through all the silence between them. He leaves bruises on her hips like he’s trying to prove something—like maybe if he marks her up enough, she won’t leave again.

Afterwards, she curls into his chest, breath hitching.

“You’re the worst fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yeah?” he rasps, lips at her neck. “Then why do you still co-come back?”

“Because no one else sees me like you do.”

He goes quiet. Pulls her closer. “Shut up.”

They date other people. Clockwork flirts to make Toby jealous. Toby fucks someone else to prove he’s “over it.” But it always feels wrong. Off. Like they’re wearing someone else’s skin.

They can be halfway across the country from each other and know when something’s wrong. She’ll wake up with a tight feeling in her chest. He’ll get that electric buzz in his bones. And eventually one of them shows up.

No matter how bad it gets, how many times they blow up, if someone else lays a hand on the other? They’re dead.

It’s toxic. But also? No one else has ever loved them like this. No one else ever will. They’re both so fucked in the head that nothing normal or soft would satisfy them. So, sure, they’re horrible and awful to be around, but no one else sees them the way the other does. That still doesn’t mean that Natalie won’t beat the absolute shit out of him. She has shot him before, she will do it again.

꩜ .ᐟ

[ladymarvel27]

Red alert | Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Description: You're on your period.

Word Count: 752

Warnings: Make out, periods? (Idk if that's a warning)

f1 masterlist

He had a smile plastered on his face. He was going to see her, his girlfriend, his favourite woman. He opened the door to see her lying in the couch.

“Hey babe!!!” He exclaimed loudly, rushing to her, “I am back!”

“Hey,” she spoke. He immediately catches something is wrong.

“Amor? What happened?” He wraps arms around her. “Omg, your period started right?!” He asks, glancing at the calendar. She nods slowly.

“Which day?”

“Second.”

“Oh,” he nods, looking at her with pity in his eyes. He knows how overwhelming the second day can be. Then an idea popped up in his mind. He picks up his keys.

“Where?” She asks.

“I am coming,” he picks up his phone and leaves. Nearly half an hour later he returns, holding two bags, one full of candies, snacks, sweets chocolate and, pads. He places them on the table in front of her. She slowly smiles looking at them.

“This one’s my favourite,” she says picking up a chocolate.

His lips curl up seeing her smile, “I am going to shower, enjoys your sweets, okay?” He was about to leave when he turns, “Should I run you a bath after showering?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “that would be great.”

Some minutes later he comes out, just in boxers and a towel on his shoulder. “You can bath, go amor.” She smiles and gets up.

After a good bath and dressing up in comfy clothes, she comes out to find Carlos cooking in the kitchen, just in his boxers. His back muscles looked great as always. She approaches him from behind, wrapping arms around his waist, burying her head into his back.

“What are you making?” She asks, breathing the scent of the food cooking, “Smells delicious.”

“Your favourite pasta mi vida,” he replies.

“Thanks Carlos,” she softly spoke, “For everything.”

“There is no need to thank me amor. I was just doing boyfriend duties,” he turns around to face her. She blushes, burying her face into his chest.

“Amor, hey!” He wraps arms around her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” she replies pulling away. She presses a small kiss on his cheek, making a small crimson spread on his cheek, “Dinner is ready, honey,” he spoke, scooping her up in his arms.

“Carlitos! Hey! Put me down!” She exclaimed, fighting to get off his hold, which made him giggle. She was the sweetest. He takes her to table and put her down on the chair.

“Sit there, princess, I am going to dress up and bring the dinner.” She pouts and relaxes against the chair.

Her eyes brightened up seeing Carlos bring her favourite pasta served hot in two plates.   She picks up and starts eating. Seeing her, he also sits down to do the same. Suddenly, he hears her sniffling.

He immediately drops his fork into his plate, “Hey! Hey! Amor! Princess? What happened?” She was happy and this sadness out of nowhere?

“I was craving this so so so much yesterday, Carlos, but I didn’t know how to make it,” He sits down hearing her, “Thank you Carlos.”

“Aww mi amor. You scared me there,” he gently caresses her shoulder then continues eating, “You’re welcome. I hope you’re enjoying it.” She’s just overwhelmed, he thought. She smiles and continues eating.

After dinner, he cleans up and goes to bedroom to find her setting up another layer of sheet on the bed. “Oh, mi amor,” he hugs her from behind, “I hope you are not cramping, are you?”

She sighs deeply. He gets the answer, immediately taking off his shirt. He stacks up pillows and lies against them. “Amor, come here, let’s cuddle,” he opens his arms.  She sits down on his lap. He wraps his arms around her waist. Their lips connect. She breaths out as he moves his lips down to her neck and then collarbones. After few minutes of intense make out, they breath heavily. She gives him a tired smile and places her palm on his chest, stabilizing herself. He pulls her closer connecting their temples, catching their breaths.

“That was…amazing,” she says, pulling away, her voice tired. He smiles gently at her. She yawns, “We should sleep.” He could clearly see the tiredness in her eyes. He pulls her closer and lays down on the bed, arms around her.

“Good night,” he presses a kiss on her eyes only to see she has already fallen asleep. She must be really tired. He chuckles to himself and closes his eyes.

Taglist: @itsjustvs4 @ice-man-goes-bwoah

Seperators credits: @saradika-graphics

[mariacallous]

Wraps are awful. At best, they ruin perfectly serviceable fillings by bundling them up in a gummy, cold tortilla. At worst, they do this with less-than-serviceable fillings. They’re like a salad, but less refreshing, or like a sandwich, but less filling—a worst-of-all-worlds Frankenstein’s monster, an indistinguishable food slurry wrapped in edible cardboard, like the world’s rudest present. They’re desperation food—“the stuff,” Lesley Suter wrote a few years ago in the food publication Eater, “of refrigerated airport deli cases, conference center lunch trays, and the dark side of a Subway menu.” Every single part of them is the wrong texture.

And yet: This month, McDonald’s announced that it would be bringing back its chicken Snack Wrap, after nearly 19,000 people signed a Change.org petition arguing that it was “easily the best thing” on the chain’s menu. The announcement came a day after Popeyes introduced three new chicken wraps. TikTok is now filled with wrap-recipe cook-alongs and clips of attractive young people hunting for the best chicken-Caesar wrap in their given city.

If you are over 40, this might sound a bit familiar. Wraps were one of the biggest eating fads of the 1990s, after a group of enterprising friends decided to put Peking duck inside a tortilla and see if San Franciscans would buy it. They would, and they did, and then so did the rest of the country. Soon enough, the nation’s leading newspapers were running careful, anthropological explainers about wraps, as though a sandwich were a newly discovered animal species. (The Washington Post, 1996: “They’re called wraps—big, fat, tortilla-wrapped bundles similar to burritos but with a wild choice of international fillings.” The Post again, six months later: “It looks like a giant egg roll.”) Tavern on the Green, which had at that point been selling down-the-middle American classics in New York City’s Central Park for two generations, introduced a pork-and-potato wrap. Around the country, as The New York Times wrote in 1998, “tiny stores selling wraps sprang up like weeds.”

Wraps, like garbage cans, can hold anything; for this reason, they aligned perfectly with the ’90s fascination with so-called fusion food, which combines dishes from different culinary traditions. But more important, they were a vessel for the era’s body anxieties. Extreme thinness was trending; Dr. Richard Atkins had recently reissued his diet guide, one of the best-selling books in history. Wraps were—in marketing, if not always in reality—lower-calorie and lower-carb than normal sandwiches, all that pillowy, delicious bread having been replaced with a utilitarian tortilla forgery that tasted and looked virtuous, especially when it was flecked with spinach or tomato. If traditional sandwiches were greasy and chaotic, the province of children and cartoon slobs, wraps were tidy and sensible, the province of working women with slim hips and pin-straight hair. They were fuel more than food, practicality more than pleasure. The fact that they didn’t taste good was maybe even part of the point. A couple of weeks ago, I was talking with a woman about this story at a party, and she mentioned that she used to eat a lot of wraps. I was incredulous—until she explained, breezily, that she had had an eating disorder for many years.

Trends are pendulums. Wraps and extreme thinness eventually became less fashionable, but not because they were a terrible waste of time and imagination—they became less fashionable simply because new orthodoxy about how to eat and how to look replaced them. Bowls became the dominant healthy-ish working lunch, and a curvier silhouette—less ruler, more Jessica Rabbit; less Kate Moss, more Kim Kardashian—became the aspirational female body type. Third-wave feminism and its attendant media turned dieting (or at least talking about it) into something archaic and deeply uncool. But America’s golden age of body positivity had its limitations: People were still expected to fall within a narrow band of acceptable sizes and shapes, and they were expected to have a particular body by accident, without effort or deprivation or shame or depressing sandwiches. For a while, the feminine ideal was a beautiful woman with a tiny waist, a giant butt, and a hamburger in hand, meat juice spilling down her forearm.

But recently, the mood has shifted again. Hip bones are jutting out once more from above low-rise jeans. The Kardashian sisters have been talking about their “weight-loss journeys.” Estimates suggest that up to one in eight American adults have taken Ozempic or similar drugs since they were introduced. In the extreme, influencers are building social-media empires by bullying women into cutting calories and exercising for hours a day. Everywhere I look, the aesthetic values of the ’90s have returned, even if the vocabulary has changed: Low-carb has been replaced with high-protein; dieting has been replaced with wellness; starvation has been replaced with fasting. Diet culture is being revived, repackaged, and resold for a new era, and so are the foods that fed it.

Two decades ago, when Subway launched a new line of wraps, they were advertised as a “carb-controlled” option compatible with the Atkins diet. In 2024, when Subway launched a new line of wraps, a company press release foregrounded their protein content and promised to “fuel you up without weighing you down.” The Snack Wrap Change.org petition explicitly cites the wrap’s calorie count, which is typically below 300. On TikTok, fitness bros are bragging about the “macros” on their “XL Grinder Salad Wraps,” and women are posting recipes for 300-calorie buffalo-chicken wraps to a chorus of comments such as “YALL THIS IS SOOOOO FILLING. I LOVE HIGH VOLUME LOW CAL EATING 🔥🔥🔥.” A thinness-obsessed nation is turning once again toward joyless tubes of functional slop, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

[popppyfur]

as much mixed feelings as i have towards world tour im glad this seems like something in character for her to do in the scope of that movie! ive seen a bit of people criticizing poppy's actions, and though valid, it did rub me the wrong way when they just left it at that; shes not listening, shes being irrational, etc etc. ive never actually even seen anyone (outside of like ONE person) dig into why she made the choices she did , and i cant blame them either bc frustratingly, i feel like the movie itself lacked putting that motivation into the spotlight, even though it IS something i can perfectly see her doing!

im really happy you mention that point about her saying how being queen is super important to her bc that was originally a bullet point in ye old idea notes LOL. i would have had her say that but it felt a bit too on the nose, so im really glad it can still be inferred even without it being directly stated! ^u^

similar to the many things i draw, this specific scenario wasnt really deeply thought about in like… a larger scale. i have a bad habit where i just wanna go into the meat of things without much buildup (oops.) so im sorry to say there isnt much of a plan for a part two (but maybe that can change in the future!) thank u for the lovely comment nonetheless <3

was thinkin about how i see every conflict poppy has w the people in her life has got to do w em thinking she wouldnt understand what theyve been thru

2. me when im da queen of pop and ive been preparing for this for my entire life and ive been good and im being praised and doing great and get overtly defensive when my methods are questioned even though ive been good and was praised and was doing great and

[ajeepgirl]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66869350

Summary: During an intense battle, Kara pushes her way through a painful kryptonite forcefield, one similar to what Lena used just a few months ago. Seeing this, Lena has some questions for Kara. Questions that just might help them both finally face some final truths.

OR: A post-show scene to help these two useless love birds make the leap!

Kara sits next to her sister, surrounded by her friends, smiling widely. They are celebrating another victory. They had managed to stop a massive terrorist attack and apprehend the leaders of the organization, hopefully stifling their activities for a long time, if not stopping it permanently. It is a good day to be a Superhero.

But as the celebration carries on, Kara can’t help but notice the glances coming her way. Every so often she catches Lena staring at her. Lena’s eyes are full of thoughts, swirling with emotions that Kara isn’t quite sure she understands. It bothers her. After everything they have been through, all the highs and the lows, she feels like she knows Lena better than ever. But the looks she gets this evening; Kara just can’t decipher them. She knows Lena is processing something, clearly something to do with her, given how often she has caught Lena staring at her. But with everyone around, celebrating with food and drink and games, she can’t exactly pull Lena aside and ask her what is wrong. While Lena is perhaps a bit quieter than usual, it isn’t anything anyone else seems to notice. Lena still engages with others. She talks softly in a corner with Nia about magic, shares a glass of whiskey with Alex, and beats Brainy at a game of darts. To anyone else, Lena is engaged in the celebration as much as the others. But Kara notices. Lena engages with everyone else, but rarely with Kara throughout the entire evening, unless she is engaged with Kara and another person. Again and again, as she talks and drinks and plays darts with the others, her eyes drift back to Kara. Clearly, something is on her mind that she keeps coming back to. And whatever it is, it is causing her to be just the tiniest bit off with Kara.

As the party started to wind down, Lena volunteers to stay behind to help clean up. Again, not unusual behavior on Lena’s part. Anytime the party is at Kara’s place, Lena stays. That’s just the routine they have now. But Kara is sure tonight is different. Something is going on with Lena. And given how close they have gotten since reconciling, she is sure Lena wants to talk to her about it. Kara wonders if maybe something happened with her Foundation, but isn’t sure how that is possible, given the entire team spent the past several days dealing with the terrorist threat. Lena was locked in the entire mission.

Sighing to herself as she closes the door, she turns to see Lena busying herself with picking up various plates, cups, drinks, and other remains of the celebration.

“You know,” Kara says, trying to act normal, “I could just use superspeed and have this cleaned up in a few seconds.”

Lena chuckles. “Yes, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to stay behind.”

Kara leans back against the door. “You know you don’t need an excuse. You can stay just because you want to.”

The heaviness of the statement hangs in the air between them. Kara means the words, deeply. And Lena knows it. Neither of them knows exactly how much she means it though. For months now, they have been dancing around each other in some sort of unspoken, weird, avoidance of the truth. Neither wanting to risk the delicate balance in their friendship that they had rebuilt since they had their falling out. Both seem content with what they have now. Neither seemingly want to admit they might want something more, a fear of shaking and destroying the balance they have found with one another – a fear too deeply rooted in them both at this point in their relationship.

Lena sits some dishes in the sink, drying her hands on a nearby towel before turning back to face Kara. She clears her throat, anxiety on her face. “There is something I want to ask you about.”

Kara pushes herself off the door and walks towards Lena. “Shoot.” She gives her a small smile of encouragement, thankful that Lena is being direct like this.

As Kara leans against the kitchen counter, relaxed and open, Lena tenses up, her hands squeezing one another as she searches for the words. She starts by stating, “Tonight. The battle.”

Kara’s forehead crinkle of confusion forms immediately. “What about it?” Kara thinks back. It was a straightforward fight. The enemy somehow had kryptonite, which the team decided to check more into tomorrow. But otherwise, it was just a bunch of bad guys with weapons like guns and bombs. Just their everyday sort of routine terrorism.

“The kryptonite,” Lena adds.

Kara’s face just gets more confused, her head tilting slightly to the side. She wonders if Lena is concerned about her. “What about it? Lena, I’m okay, I promise.”

Lena lets out a small huff. “I know… but they tried to form a kryptonite wall or barrier or whatever, around you.” Kara nods in agreement but clearly still didn’t understand. Lena adds, “and you just walked right through it.”

Kara shrugs. “Well, yeah, I mean, it hurts but I’ve been around it enough now that I can push through the pain. I was able to push through the barrier and run right into the one guy who had the machine that was maintaining it. And so, once it was down, my powers came back full force.” She still wasn’t sure why Lena was so rattled by the battle, but she wanted to reassure her that she was okay. It wasn’t her first run in with kryptonite. It probably won’t be her last.

Lena nods, giving a brief, closed smile before saying, “I understand the logistics of it, Kara. That’s not my question.”

Kara stands up fully, sensing they are finally approaching the actual concern, racking her brain to understand. Coming up empty, she asks, “What is the question, Lena?”

Lena walks around the kitchen counter slowly as she explains. “Five months ago, when I… when I did the same thing to you, in the Fortress…”

“Lena…” Kara starts, not wanting Lena to still be blaming herself for that, but Lena continues before Kara can reassure her.

“You could have walked through it.” Lena’s question is more of a statement, and it hangs heavily in the air between them. Their eyes lock onto each other, and Kara finally realizes what Lena is asking. Kara simply nods once as an answer. Lena stops a few steps away, her throat feeling dry, she struggles to get out the next question. Her voice fades into a whisper by the time she finishes. “So… so you… you just stood there. You… you could have stopped me. Kara, why didn’t you stop me?”

Kara looks around her apartment for a few seconds, thinking back on the memory, on something she tries not to dwell on anymore. During their fallout, Kara had thought about a hundred different ways she could have responded, whether pleading, or falling to her knees, or forcibly stopping Lena, Kara knew one thing for certain in all the “what if” scenarios – she could have never done anything to hurt Lena like that. She had already hurt her enough by then. Her eyes find Lena, Kara responds quietly with a small shrug, the best answer she has to give, “Because it was you.”

“Be… because it was me? What does that even mean?” Lena’s eyes swirl with emotion as she tries to process Kara’s words, trying to understand. She stutters her words as she continues on, still trying to figure it all out. “You… you are the strongest person on the planet! I… I watched you charge through a wall of kryptonite today, like it was nothing! And it is supposed to be your greatest weakness!”

 Kara shrugs again, as she responds like it is the easiest, most casual question and answer in the world. “Lena, I wasn’t going to risk hurting you even more.”

Lena scoffs unconvinced. “So what? You just let me put you in a kryptonite prison? Take a weapon of mass mind control, and walk away?” The tone of Lena’s voice grows with each new question.

“Yes”, Kara answers matter of factly.

“Because it was me?!” Lena stares at Kara, mouth agape, clearly not understanding.

“Yes” Kara answers calmly. Her eyes still locked on Lena.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Lena finally says, her hand hitting the counter in frustration.

Lena lets out a huff. Kara lets out a small sigh. She hates to see Lena this worked up. Kara knows she could explain more… that she should explain more. But she might also be risking letting another proverbial cat out of the bag. She knows this is a risk she must take though. She doesn’t want Lena to feel like this. She takes a small step towards Lena, giving her a soft smile. “Let’s go sit on the couch and I will try to explain more,” Kara offers, holding her hand out. “Please?”

Lena seemingly lets out another huff but takes Kara’s hand and lets herself be led to the couch, where Kara sits them down next to each other. Lena crosses her arms and leans back, awaiting a more thorough response.

Kara tries but fails to stifle her smile at Lena. “Lena,” she starts, “I love that logical, rational mind of yours. How you try to figure out and understand everything. And I wish I had a logical, rational explanation to give you. But I really do mean what I said. I did what I did, because it was you.”

A slow, heavy breath comes out of Lena. She searches Kara eyes for more answers. Finding none, she asks calmly yet firmly, “But what does that mean, Kara?”

Kara ponders the question for a moment, realizing that maybe it is time for her to tell Lena the truth. Maybe it is time for her to really live her full truth, like she said she wanted to embrace back at her sister’s wedding. She lets out a shaky breath as she starts, “It means… you’re the first person I want to talk to in the morning and the last person I talk to before I go to sleep. You, Lena Luthor, are the most brilliant person I know, and the most kindhearted. You were my person. You are my person. So, it means that I was never going to do something to intentionally hurt you, especially not after having kept my secret from you for so long, knowing that keeping that secret was going to hurt you. And I think that, deep down, I knew that I had to let you be the one to stop yourself from taking that path. And that maybe… maybe we had to lose each other for a while to appreciate what we have now.”

Lena stares at Kara, her mind wheeling from Kara’s words. “I’m… your person?” she asks softly.

Kara lets out a single chuckle, “Lena… you are my person. You have been my person for a long time now.”

Lena’s heart starts to race as Kara repeats her words. She meant what she said in the monologue. She stated it plainly just now by itself. Suddenly, Lena feels that flicker of hope igniting somewhere deep inside herself. A feeling she had shoved very far down into a locked box that was buried deep underground. She feels it cracking open. “What… what does that mean… to you?” Her voice is a hushed tone at this point, every question feeling like a revelation.

Kara reaches over and takes Lena’s hand between her own, both women feeling comforted by the touch. They were always a bit physical, especially compared to their other friendships. That has only increased since they had reconciled and developed an even deeper friendship.

“It means,” Kara says, taking a pause before she dives into her explanation more fully, “It means that I love having you in my life, that I love how we talk every day now, how we have dinner, how we work together in the Tower, how, with no more secrets between us, we just fit together so well in each other’s life. And that, perhaps unintentionally, over these past five months, I’ve built a life around us. And it has made me incredibly happy. My life feels full because you are in it, Lena.”

The box hidden deep inside Lena is threatening to fully burst open at this point. Her green eyes continue to stare intently into Kara’s blue eyes, searching for more. She must be certain. And while that certainly sounded like a confession – Lena knows better than to assume. She might live a softer, calmer, and happier life now that she has been able to live outside of the Luthor shadow. But thirty plus years in that environment does not go away overnight. All the emotional burns, cuts, and gunshot wounds she had gotten in those years have left scars. Besides, she has seen Kara be a bit oblivious when it comes to social things. And while she adores all parts of Kara, she knows sometimes Kara doesn’t quite read the room as well as she herself has been trained to do.

She decides to approach this from a tentative, open, curious place. “Kara, I… I know we have gotten to dive into earth versus Kryptonian customs and cultures over the past few months, which I absolutely love, by the way,” Lena adds with a quick smile; She wants to make it clear she does not want that to end, no matter where this conversation ultimately goes. “But we haven’t necessarily talked about all the different relationship or social customs.” Kara nods, urging her to continue. “So… what you just said, all of that. I um… I am wondering exactly how I should interpret it. You see, thinking about it from a human perspective, some might interpret what you just said as a romantic confession of sorts.”

Lena pauses there, waiting for Kara to confirm or deny.  She watches as Kara face softens into a lopsided smile. “It would be the same interpretation on Krypton.”

The confirmation causes Lena’s stomach to turn upside down and twist itself all around. “Really?” she can’t help but ask in disbelief.

Kara’s smile falters, suddenly second guessing herself. “I… things don’t have to change, Lena. We can keep our relationship as it has been. I just… that’s why I did what I did that day. I couldn’t fight you. And I feared that if I pushed out of the kryptonite forcefield, I would essentially be declaring war on you. On my person. And I couldn’t do that.”

“How long?” Lena barely gets out.

“How long what?” Kara asks, confused by the sudden shift.

Lena adds her free hand onto Kara’s hands, which are still holding her other one. “How long have you been in love with me?”

At this question, Kara blushes. “That’s… I’m not sure, really. I think it happened without me even realizing it. And then things got complicated with the whole Supergirl thing so I just kind of pushed those feeling aside and ignored them.” Kara’s thumb absentmindedly runs over Lena’s hand in reassurance. “Like I said, this doesn’t have to change anything. I don’t want to lose you, Lena. Not ever again. Having you in my life is the most important thing to me. Whether that is as a friend or… or something more – I can be happy with either of those. As long as you are happy.” Kara’s chin drops to her chest as she looks down at their hands, waiting to see how Lena will respond, but unable to look at her as her heard thuds in her chest and her face flushes at being so vulnerable.  

The box in Lena bursts open completely at Kara’s words. She can feel how sincere and genuine Kara is. How much she cares about Lena. How much she loves her. Unable to find any more words or questions, Lena lifts her free hand up to Kara’s chin, gently requesting Kara to look up. Kara doesn’t fight her, letting her head be easily moved so she is again staring directly at Lena. “I think that’s enough talking for tonight,” Lena says firmly. Kara’s face starts to twist in confusion but is interrupted by Lena’s lips on hers. She is surprised for a second, before she realizes what is happening. She responds to Lena, kissing her back, an inhale of breath as her hands wrap around Lena and pull her in easily. Lena chuckles as she pulls away from the kiss just enough, resting her forehead on Kara’s. “Easy there, Supergirl. Take a girl to dinner first.”

They have always had good banter, a little flirty at times even. But hearing Lena’s husky voice after having just had what is the best kiss in her life, with the clear inuendo, makes Kara’s entire body vibrate. Kara closes the distance and gives Lena one final light kiss. “I’ll take you anywhere in the world you want to go, Lena Luthor.”

[kings-highway]

Impulsively wrote this middle school friendship AU intro for Ushiten. It would follow a week of them working on a school project together and probably be mostly canon compliant with the change of them meeting in middle school. Theyd play volleyball eventually and maybe Id extend it long enough to see the high school days its unclear. It would include both artist Ushijima and mega anime nerd Tendou and also tw for suicidal thoughts and feelings but no attempts just two deeply, deeply depressed 13 year olds finally meeting someone who gets them. Also Ushijima would have a stammer and an amount of autism that might be lethal before he had any decent self regulation. It would be the return of Adopted Tendou and probably a few other things. Anyway why am I telling you this? Because I have a habit of impulse writing the first 1000 words of something and then forgetting about it so instead I've given it to you. So like. Maybe all this will be nothing idk.

---

It was 9:08 on a Thursday morning when Tendou Satori decided to kill himself.

And then at 11:13 that very same Thursday morning, he’s forced to delay his decision due to a school assigned group project.

Now, normally Tendou would not be so altruistic as to care about whether or not he pulled his weight in a group project or left people hanging. No, the reason why this is an imposition at all is because of how he ends up assigned to a group project. He’s not paired up with the girl he sits beside as she rolls her eyes, they don’t draw straws or count numbers. No, they’re told that everyone can pick a partner to work with for this particular assignment, and then they have to make and colour project board on - you guessed it - a type of animal to then present to the class on.

Tendou, at first, is actually thrilled with this. He simply won’t partner up, and then he’ll be dead, and it will be okay. But when the class is wrapping up and everyone is getting ready for lunch, the teacher is suddenly whistling for him and waving him over like a scheming villain.

He’s not even sure he’s the one she wants at first. He frowns, glancing around and watching the other kids file out of the class, and then looking back to her. She waves him over again.

Her name is Kobayashi, and she’s… fine. Middle school biology is generally just fine.

He stands in front of her, wondering if he’s done something wrong.

“Hey, Satori,” she says, like she’s about to ask for all his gold. “I have a… huge favour to ask you. You don’t have a partner in mind for the animal project, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“Great, good, okay. So… do you think you could do me the favour of asking Wakatoshi to be your partner?”

Tendou frowns, glancing behind him to where the other kid usually sat, but he had already left the class.

“Uh… why?”

She seems to hesitate on this answer for a second, before eventually saying: “Well, it’s just that… you know he doesn’t really talk much, and has a really hard time making friends. And usually I help out by introducing him to someone, but I think he’s begun to notice that nobody ever approaches him on their own, and…”

Tendou stares at her for a moment, then glances behind him and scans over the occupied seats in the class to identify and even number of students. So an even amount of pairs.

We’re probably leftovers, he decides. There’s probably something wrong with this kid the way there’s something wrong with him, and she wanted them stuck together to avoid contaminating the other kids.

“Okay,” he says, because what does it matter to him?

“Oh, you’re the best, thank you,” Kobayashi says, clasping her hands together for a moment before adding: “Okay, I won’t take any more of your time. Go enjoy your lunch.”

Tendou nods slightly, and figures he should probably go find this kid to set up their collaboration. And it’s about then, (11:13) that he realizes if he asks to partner with someone, and then kills himself, that would be super inconsiderate and lame. So he decides he’ll wait until after they present.

But he heads down to the school cafeteria and starts scanning the available seats. It’s interesting that there’s apparently another social loser like him in his very class, and he’d never noticed. He’s fairly certain he can recognize the kid by face, but it still takes him a moment of intensely scanning before he notices him. He’s not exactly sitting alone, which is what surprises him. It looks like the kid is surrounded by friends.

Except for that, as Tendou approaches, he realizes that while he’s sandwiched in between two very loud groups of friends, he’s not actually engaging in either circle, and is instead sitting with his head down, peeling an orange so carefully he’s kept the peel all in one piece.

Tendou has to fight through crowds, then, to get to the other side and worm into the seat across from him and between those two groups. He doesn’t look up.

Tendou clears his throat.

He still doesn’t look up.

So he reached forward, knocking his knuckles against the table to get his attention. This makes him jump, and he looks up in alarm, as if shocked someone had snuck up on him despite being locked in on that orange like it owed him a life debt.

Tendou immediately regrets the rude way of getting his attention, realizing he probably seemed like an asshole, and withdrew his hand quickly to sit on it.

“Uh, hey,” he says. “Ushijima, right?”

He gets a single nod back. Well, Kobayashi had said he was quiet. Tendou wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him speak, actually.

“Well, I’m Tendou - we’re in class together-”

Ushijima is nodding, indicating he does recognize him.

“-uh, and we’ve got that stupid animal project coming up, and I don’t have a partner yet, so I was wondering if you wanted to, like, I dunno, do that together or whatever.”

Ushijima looks at him for long enough that Tendou is beginning to get concerned that he didn’t actually speak any Japanese, and then eventually the blank look turns to a frown.

What, did I offend him? Why is he looking at me like that?

“I mean, unless you already have a partner,” Tendou starts. Ushijima continues to stare at him. “Do… uh… sorry… What's happening? You can say no, dude, that’s fine, I just-”

After a second, Ushijima glances around, as if psyching himself up, before lean towards Tendou and very carefully saying:

“Okay.”

Tendou leans towards him at the same time. “Okay as in… partners?”

Ushijima nods, and then looks back down to his orange. Tendou is fairly certain that that’s the end of the conversation and this project is going to be the most boring partnership on the planet when Ushijima splits the orange in half, and offers half over to him.

“What? Why?” Tendou says, not quite able to stop his tone from coming out distrustfully.

Ushijima doesn’t seem to notice, and instead answers the question:

“You do not have lunch with you.”

It’s not a question of ‘are you hungry’ or ‘did you eat’ or ‘would you like half of this orange I’m holding,’ but rather Ushijima has now decided that since Tendou does not have any, he was going to put food in front of him.

Tendou feels a very heavy, hard beat in his heart, and reaches forward to take the orange.

“Oh. Thanks.”

[eternalgirlscout]

How did your upstairs neighbor CAUSE two men to break in?????

this story is both sillier and more of an accident than i made it sound, i promise!

two pieces of context:

our unit and the upper unit share a landing. there are more stairs past the door for the upper unit, but from the outside they look like they're on the same level.

my spouse and i were, at the time, very freshly moved in to our current apartment. unbeknownst to us, when the previous tenants locked up on their way out, they left the last key on the windowsill of the aforementioned landing.

so, late on a weekend night, our upstairs neighbor had a birthday party. two of her friends, slightly-drunk early 20-somethings, showed up to this birthday party at 2:30 am. being as they were slightly drunk and in their early 20s, when faced with the conundrum of which of the two doors in front of them belonged to their friend, they tried one door. it was locked. rather than proceeding to try the second door, they said, surely this must be a mistake. let's look around for clues! point-and-click game style, they said, aha!

use [key] on [door]

now, by this point, meg and i had been woken up by the sounds of two drunk guys debating what to do while rattling our doorknob in the wee hours of the morning. i got up to see what was going on, just in time to hear the deadbolt turn and see the door open.

please recall, i had just been woken up at 2:30am. i'm a notorious night owl, but working a 9-5 for the past 2 years has thrown me off my game. toss in the insomnia medication i've been acclimating to for a couple of months, and i was in a state of such delirious confusion that all i could think as i saw a 6-foot-tall smiling stranger open the door to my home was "it would be super weird for the maintenance guy to show up at this time of night, right?"

so all i could say, as a second young man appeared behind the shoulder of the first, was. "what?" and then, as if in explanation, one of them said "we're with them," pointing to the invisible party around the corner. and then i said, using the skills of elocution i'm so lauded for, "what?"

one second after that, the penny visibly dropped. they both backed out, apologizing profusely and looking more mortified than i'd ever seen anyone look (and i used to teach literature to undergrads, so i know from embarrassed 20-year-olds). i gently closed the door on a harmonizing chorus of "we're SO stupid," propped a chair in front of it in case there were any more confused partygoers, and went back to bed.

anyway, the next morning i politely texted my upstairs neighbor to ask what the fuck and/or shit happened—i wasn't mad! i was just worried there was something wrong with the deadbolt, because we had a laundry list of maintenance issues that were getting addressed that monday—and she was deeply apologetic as well. and then last week she asked if i could feed her cat for a week in july, and i was like, yeah sure.

[spite-of-artemis]

Quick lil TADC timeline cuz hyperfixation

While we dont have much to go off for a lot of this, theres a few things that do lead to a rough timeline of events for when everyone got to the circus and how they got there. if ive gotten anything wrong or missed anything that goose has confirmed before then please correct me. also obv this is all mostly theories so might change with new episodes or based on how you interpret my proof. while i dont have any proof in universe for specific years i mention, ill be giving specific yearss for thematic reasons towards the end.

Sometime in the vauge past, though judging by the computer and kingers age id guess around late 90's, C&A creates The Amazing Digital Circus for... reasons. It is a virtual reality multiplayer game in which the helpful artificial inteligence of Caine creates fun short adventures for the players to go on. Something in this development goes wrong and during testing, at least two players are "trapped" within the game. Since Kinger has been in the circus the longest and has 7 years of computer science experience it makes sense he worked for C&A and was the first to enter the circus.

Kinger, his wife Queenie, and 4 others enter the circus in 2000, and sometime later Queenie is the first to abstract. I believe this happened before anyone in the main cast entered since the others didnt really seem to know about her.

Based on the crossed off doors weve seen at various points, we know of at least 12 players who have abstracted. Based on the trend of a new circus member entering when an abstraction happens, I believe that Queenie and 4 others all abstracted and were replaced with new players, the next player to abstract brings in Ragatha.

Ragatha enters sometime in the mid 00s, id guess around 06' based on nothing but vibes. She mentions being in real estate and was possibly looking around the now defunct C&A building attempting to prep it for sale when she found the headset.

Slight weird idea, but i think it makes sense. Next to join the circus was Kaufmo. we know very little about kaufmo so hes here mostly because it just feels weird for him to have joined after jax and gangle did. he joins sometime around 09'.

at this point in the timeline weve had Queenie and 6 unnamed players abstract, the most recent two having been replaced by ragatha and kaufmo. the circus currently consists of Kinger, Ragatha, Kaufmo, and 3 unnamed players.

2 of those players abstract fairly close together and are replaced by Jax and Ribbit. This happens sometime around 12' since jax makes the breaking bad refference in ep 5 and that didnt really have major success until it was added to netflix in 2011. Jax and Ribbit likely went in together and knew each other outside the circus like Kinger and Queenie did, but after over a decade in the circus (plus seeing 9 abstractions already) Kinger has become unstable enough to not mention any similarities. Jax and Ribbit were very close.

Sometime later, ill say 15', Ribbit abstracts and is replaced by Gangle, which seems to have deeply affected Jax. This likely caused his tail to fall off as that can happen to rabbits due to injury or trauma, alongside him symbolicly losing a part of himself with Ribbit. Based on his manerisms its also likely that he blames himself in some way for Ribbits abstraction, anger which he externalizes and takes out on Gangle

A few years later the last unnamed player is abstracted and replaced with Zooble, ill say sometime around 18' for thematic reasons in the next point. We know Zooble enjoyed to look around abandoned buildings and likely found the headset inside the now very abandoned C&A building that Ragatha was attempting to sell.

Its now 2023 and our current cast is Kinger (in the circus for roughly 23 years), Ragatha, (~18 years), Kaufmo (~16 years), Jax (~11 years), Gangle (~8 years), and Zooble (~5 years). Queenie and 10 unnamed players have abstracted, many of them within the first 5 years of the circus first being created. its been roughly 5 years since the last abstraction, the longest period of "peace" since the circus first opened at the turn of the century.

Kaufmo then abstracts and is replaced by Pomni. She was exploring an abandoned building and found the headset, putting it on and finding herself in the digital circus. She tries to leave but its too late. Kaufmo has abstracted, and she is now trapped.

To Pomni its meaningless, at least when compared to everything else going on. To Zooble its a coincidence that they both joined right as another abstracted. to Gangle its a pattern and another cause of anxiety. To Jax, its a sign that maybe it wasnt his fault, that he doesnt need to lash out any more. To Ragatha its another tradgey, another lost friend. And to Kinger, its another one who he hopes can find some peace and quiet inside the darkness of the Cellar, just like how Queenie found some peace and quiet inside their fort together.

I dont believe any of the main cast will properly abstract. theyll definitely get close for the sake of stakes and drama, but the circus seems to like having 6 cast members at a time.

okay ramble time now

ooo wow writing out this timeline was really fun for me, i absolutely love it tbh and it became way more then i was initially intending. my initial post was just gonna be "Kinger and Queenie joined first, then it went ragatha, jax, ribbit, gangle, zooble, pomni" and then it just kept growing as i looked through more of the wiki and everything kinda fell into place for me. this is definitely not the full extent of the theories i believe (saw someone say C&A could mean Caine and Abel and i love that. also love the trans jax truthers, idk if ill fully commit it to my headcanons, but i do appreciate yall) so i might make more scattered posts about theories and headcanons, but this is a good balance between every thought i have about this show and the barebones "what order they joined" timeline i initially planned to make.

[leona-florianova]

Has to be said, that while I do think that Jack and Stephen love each other vey very very much and that they are in some kind of symbiotic and queer relationship.

I also firmly believe that Jack is just... The most vanilla, heterosexual leaning and disappointingly bad at sex guy to ever exist.. BUT... Hes also deeply bi romantic and so so so friendship-eager that hes dangerously capable to quickly form a friendship/ fall in love with just about anyone who seems nice and shows him a bit of decency n affection... especially if they share a meal with him.

Which...Combined with his inability to notice any queer activity and more subtle advances at all (anything compareble to less than a direct attack with a sledgehammer)...makes him extremely confusing to all the sodomites... and tbh to everyone else too...

Meanwhile Stephen is... Even putting anything like a label on him feels wrong.. he could decide on something else on a whim or when the drugs wear off ... or kick in ... but he seems like some flavour of kinky acespec to me (demi?)...

An extremely secretive acespec whos waaaay more into taking people and animals apart and studying them than anything else (both bodies and minds)..... except maybe the idea of being mauled (body and especially mind... bonus if the person tormenting him is a beautiful powerful independant woman comparable to some carnivorous beast)....Oh yeah... and also chasing a concept..

..

Anyway...

The thing is, if Stephen actually proposed anything....(and he would have to be the one to initiate, because for all of Jacks repetitions of the "Go straight at them", he rarely does, does he? More often He waits and surveys untill they "Go straight at Him")

He would propose it in such a roundabout and awkward way that it would necessarily include at least about two hours of detailed descriptions of mating habits of some amphibians.

And if Jack didnt zone out through all that and actually caught the drift... Hed probably go tomato red and be like "Haha what a lewd chap you are, Stephen. Anyway I have to do something very important elsewhere, excuse me" and hed promptly walk into a door frame because his whole mind would be occupied by some hardcore compartmentalizing.

But if they get to something after that I think it should be only right if it keeps with the theme of the books.. A sort of monkey paw situation

-> Sex so awkward and disappointing they dont mention it again, but Stephen doubles down with his castration jokes/genuine suggestions....But they still love each other.

*i do like when they suffer