#i completely forgot all my organization tags.

[copper-skulls]

f.rog for the @amphibianaday pride event thingie! i. hope I'm still on time lmao I'm never sure with timezones. if not then I mean! still got to draw a cute froggo. win situation either way

[elegyofthemoon]

m...maybe i can....try my hand...with just drawing floating heads...of the little cast

[britbi]

bleh

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter sixteen | chapter fifteen | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

word count: 4987

a/n: Hi guys, so sorry about not updating here for a while! I promise I'll continue posting Orange Slices chapter updates here, I just completely forgot to post chapter 17. Not to be annoying, but if you are interested in staying in touch with me/my other works/story updates (including fororange slices), I am now mainly on @urbancowboyjoel now. Chapter 18 is still in the works, explanation is at the end of the chapter hehe.

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

@pocket-macnchz

Chapter Seventeen

“Come to me in the silence of the night; come in the sparkling silence of a dream.” -Christina Rossetti

The moonlight streams in through the small window in the kitchen, offering a comforting presence in the midst of your sudden onset of insomnia. After the day you had, all the lifting and moving, you should be tired; you should be exhausted. However, after tossing and turning for hours while your mind raced with thoughts about James and Joel and Nessa and your impending return to patrol and past memories, of your hometown and how things used to be, how much has changed within the past few years–your relentless thoughts refused to slow down no matter how much you tried to fight against them, so you forced yourself from the couch and took a seat at the kitchen table in the dark. 

Staring off into the dark abyss of where you just came from, you roll your neck, grimacing at the shooting pain at the base of your skull. Sleeping on the couch was not working out. Nothing good came out of it, just restless nights and daily body aches. Still, regardless of being in this house for a while, the reminisce of the lives that used to call this house their home still haunts you in one form or another. This place has yet to begin feeling like yours, and at this rate, you don’t think it ever will. 

The past few weeks have been nothing short of a blur, between the conversation you had with Joel and the myriad of drama surrounding you in Jackson, your mind has been rather preoccupied. 

After your eyes fully adjusted to the dark, you reached for the notebook at the center of the table. The clock mounted behind you on the wall in the kitchen, was loud in your ears, the mixture of tick-tocks and your heartbeat whooshing in your ear gave you a sense of unsettling nausea. 

You flipped to the next available blank page in the worn notebook, the moon casting a sliver of light across the table as if it was encouraging you to write about your troubles after witnessing your restless night for countless weeks. The eraser head hits the paper in between the ticks and tocks of the clock as you delve further into your thoughts. Where do I start? You ask yourself.

A few weeks ago, after returning from an uneventful patrol alongside Joel, you came across a post on the community information board in the town square. Charles posted a help wanted request for cleaning and setting up a library in one of the vacant buildings within the community. As soon as you saw his name signed at the bottom, you ripped it from the board and rushed to his house to volunteer your hand. A part of you felt saddened that he didn’t come to you and ask, considering he confided in you that one day he'd like to open a library here. Although, given the rocky state of things going on in your life, you understood why he didn’t ask to begin with. 

After going around to the different guards, asking for anyone to cover her spot with patrol, Tommy was the only one who stepped up while you and Charles began stripping the building, cleaning, and organizing the collection of books he’s hoarded over the years, were donated by members of the community, or were purposely scavenged from nearby.

Although you hated admitting this to yourself, it was nice getting a break from doing patrol. Setting up the library was the perfect distraction from everything going on, and spending time with Charles, someone who you looked up to for guidance and as a father figure, was the kind of presence your soul needed. 

That distraction only went so far though, at night your thoughts consistently kept you up into the wee hours of the morning. It had nearly become debilitating and you knew it was something you’d have to figure out sooner rather than later, particularly before you returned to your patrol duties. The main two culprits that haunted your thoughts were none other than Joel and James; Joel, mainly because you’ve been spending much less time with him than usual, and James for the fact that he’s been too involved in your life lately. 

Regardless of not going on patrol with Joel, you still see him nearly everyday. Usually the two of you eat dinner together, with him stopping by what will eventually become the library to see if you wanted to join him. Your answer was always yes with no hesitation on your end. After dinner, he'd walk you home, sometimes he’d stay for an hour or so, other times he’d retreat to his house to go to bed, telling you that the sleepless nights in the QZ and on the outside were catching up with him. At the end of each day, you always craved more from him.

Then there was James. Oh, James…

Ever since your confrontation out front of the stables about the little stunt he pulled that almost got you taken off of patrols, it seems as if James has been trying to do some intense damage control with you. He’s stopped by your house a handful of times that you know of. You’ve never opened the door, going completely still so as to not alert him of your presence, though he still takes it upon himself to profusely apologize through the door, pleading for you to talk to him. 

Through word of mouth, either from the other guards discussing your temporary leave or from Charles himself, James must’ve learned about you helping with the library because he began showing up between his patrols and other guard duties, claiming he just wants to see how things are coming along. 

These unexpected drop-ins put Charles in an awkward position; you knew it, James knew it—he came anyway. While you stealthily slipped into the back room to busy yourself, sometimes organizing piles of books you already organized days prior, other times just staring at the wall, Charles would take the initiative to entertain James with small talk. 

Every time James made his eventual departure, Charles would let out a loud heavy sigh, saying so much with no words. And after you’d mutter your half-assed apology as you emerged from the back room, he’d give you a look; one so full of disappointment and defeat. For the rest of the day, both of you would work in silence.

Charles never said anything beyond his sigh and the look he’d give you in regards to James. His body language was more than enough and he knew that. He knew the guilt that you feel and the conflicting anger you have towards James. After the last talk the two of you had, he’d given up and knew no matter what he said to you, no matter how much he tried to help, you wouldn’t listen anyway.

He knew you were a coward and had no plan of resolving things with James anytime soon.

A coward wishing their problem would disappear. 

You wished James would just disappear , because then you wouldn’t have to think about what you did to him that started this. And that made you feel guilty. 

Eventually, you knew you’d have to come face to face with James, knowing that he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The community is relatively small and people talk; in the long run it would be best to smooth things over, at least attempt to talk things out. Although, it just wasn’t something you could do right now. Not with your conflicting and complex feelings toward James—especially not when things were so God damned gray with Joel. 

The snapping of the lead of your pencil pulls you out of your mind consuming rant, suddenly becoming aware of your dark surroundings as you return to reality. You could feel the intense heat radiating off of your cheeks as you brought one palm up to your face. 

After staring at the paper for a few minutes, taking in the messy scribbles of words, you rip out the page in one swift motion, immediately crumpling it into a ball. The muscles in your forearm tensed as you squeezed the paper within your fist, making it smaller and more compact with each squeeze. The paper disappeared within the dark shadows of the kitchen when you chucked it across the table.

Your head began to spin, a buzzing sensation filling your skull and making you feel uneasy. Moving the hand on your cheek up to your forehead, you let out a sigh of frustration and close your eyes.

Joel. 

Such an intense and complex person. From the moment you sat across from him at that damned table at that abandoned cabin, you felt drawn to him. Something about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on made you feel understood and protected and at ease. When it was just the two of you, you could imagine what life would be like by his side, and it was something you so badly wanted to manifest into reality. He could be a complete asshole at times, but then there were other times when he was so vulnerable with you and he would laugh and you could see a glimmer of joy in his eyes that gave you a tiny glimpse of who he was before the outbreak happened. Weirdly enough, you wanted him just as much in his worst moments as you did in his best. To you, knowing that was enough. It was enough to understand what you felt for him.

James…

He was such a sweet and kind soul, always making you feel so normal, as if none of this outbreak bullshit ever happened. James felt things so purely and intensely, it almost made you envious that someone could experience life in such a way after losing so much.  From the beginning he treated you as an equal, he didn’t make you have to prove yourself like some of the others did, he didn’t see you as the weird girl who showed up with Tommy Miller and his misfit older brother. He treated you like a human being deserving of friendship, he stuck up for you, and on the late nights the two of you would spend together, he made you feel like you were something important to this world. While all those things may remain true, it doesn’t change how he treated Joel or what he did to you when his jealousy took over. Things could never go back to how they were after that.

Closing the front cover of the notebook and slipping the pencil into the spiral binding for safe keeping, you slide it back to the center of the table where you retrieved it from.

In the past, writing had helped you sort through your thoughts, it did when Joel left shortly after you arrived in Jackson and when memories of the past became too much to bear. It gave you a chance to dump everything without the judgment of others and many times you were able to either solve the core of the problem or come to some sort of decision on how to manage your feelings, but this time around…no matter how much you deliberated, how much you wrote, it just leaves you with a bigger headache than you started with. 

And this headache seemed to grow worse as the days went on. 

As your hand ran down the front of your face, you turned in your chair to look at the clock, squinting your eyes to make out the numbers and hand position in the dark. You raise your eyebrows when you realize it’s now past midnight, nearly an hour has passed and you have been completely lost in your thoughts this entire time. 

At this point the moonlight shifted, the sliver that previously caressed the table with a soft glow, was now leading you to the couch. 

Pressing your palms firmly against the smooth surface of the table, it takes you a second to push yourself up onto your feet as your eyes lock onto one of the many burn marks pulling you back into your daze. Joel did say I was welcome anytime, the words appear in your mind without any warning, maybe I can… With one hard, intentional blink, the thought disappeared.

Nothing good ever comes after midnight. On top of that, you aren't being rational right now, you’re sleep deprived and borderline delarius. Nothing good will come out of that, you whisper your words out loud. Sleep. That’s what you needed. That’s all you need right now. Not clarity, or confirmation, or him.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk the short distance from the table to the couch, nearly toppling over on the couch. All you wanted at the moment was to sleep. You desperately wanted a break from your racing thoughts that were now becoming tortuous. Before laying down, you punched the poor excuse of a pillow a few times before laying on your back, your hands resting just above your navel. As you close your eyes, you slow your breathing. 

Trying to trick your brain into sleeping, you count the seconds that pass in unison to the ticking clock. Flashing images of Joel kept distracting you, so when you finally reached six hundred after several failed attempts, you flipped onto your side with your face now facing the back of the couch. The rough fabric brushed the tip of your nose as you nuzzled your face into the cushion, the heat of your breathing warming your cold cheeks. 

Three hundred more seconds pass before you shoot up from the couch, the sudden movement making blood rush to your head, the already dark room becoming darker for a fraction of time. Your heart, for some reason that you don’t know why, is racing, thumping strongly within the confines of your chest.

Placing your hand over your heart, feeling the movement under the layers of skin, muscle, and bone, you approach the window in the living room, your steps slow almost as if you were afraid of getting caught. As you look out the window toward Joel’s house, you brace your hands on the windowsill, leaning into them to get a better look. His house at this time of the night was nothing more than a shadow, but you could recount every detail of it by memory. 

You began to gently chew on your bottom lip as a sudden calm came over.

Fuck it. 

Before you could process your decision or think of what the consequence might come from out of this, you were already halfway out the door, barefoot and still in your pajamas. Time seemed to slow as you walked across the empty street and up Joel’s pathway; the overgrown weeds tickling the bottom of your feet with each step. 

Knock, knock, knock.

The wooden door was hard against your knuckles, knocking hard enough so he would hear but wouldn’t be alarmingly loud either. 

For a brief moment, a sliver of consciousness washed over you, the only thing you could hear was your own ragged breaths as the adrenaline continued to rush through your veins and covered your body in a numbing sensation. What are you doing? Your eyebrows drew together. Looking over your shoulder you judged the distance between where you stood and where your front door was. If I leave now, perhaps I can make it back before he gets to the door. The longer you think on it, you realize the opportunity slipping through your fingers. 

The sound of creaking floorboards causes you to turn back toward Joel’s front door and straighten your posture, your chin tilting upward ever so slightly. Your fingers fiddle with each other as you wait for the door to open; on the other side of the barrier, you can hear Joel clear his throat and your heart stalls.

At first, he barely opens the door wide enough for his head to poke through. You take a second to scan his face; he looks confused, still half asleep, but God did he look handsome.

“Hey, um, ” your voice is soft, not quite sure what to say. You shift the weight between your feet as you continue to look at him.

After taking what seemed like forever to process your presence, Joel’s narrowed eyes quickly turn into concern and he opens the door wider revealing his entire body. “Is everything okay?” His voice was rough, laden with sleep. Your breathing hitches, leaving you unable to respond as you take him in before you. Your eyes glaze down from his concerned expression, to his chest hair and down his bare torso, to the top of the band of his blue boxer that looked as if they had been put on in a rush. Your core ignited with an intense heat, your heartbeat picking up in speed. 

You force yourself to swallow despite your throat feeling as if it were closing in on itself. “I can’t sleep…” You shook your head, keeping your eyes fixated on his. “I’m–I’m sorry to bother you so late.” Letting out a sigh you avert your gaze down to your feet. Looking at him was too much for you to handle right now. 

The sigh of relief escaping him made you slowly look back up at him, his shoulders relaxing. Without saying anything else, Joel opens the door completely, stepping aside to allow you to come in. You give him a shy smile in response, butterflies now going rampant in your stomach. 

You wait for Joel to take the lead, not sure what would happen from here. You knew what you wanted to happen, whether it was right or wrong. Perhaps he’d offer you the couch, simply a place to sleep for the night. That’s probably for the best. Or maybe the two of you would talk for a bit and then he’d send you on your way. Fuck, you’re an idiot, you thought, hating yourself now for not thinking this through. Joel had to get up for patrol in the morning and you thought it was a good idea to bother him for your own selfish reasons. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You dig your nails into your palms as a flash of heat runs through your body. 

Joel’s arm brushes up against yours as he passes, leading you further into his home and turning on lights as he goes. You have to force yourself not to look at him or the way his back muscles shift as he walks. Get a hold of yourself, you scold yourself and suck in some very much needed oxygen through your teeth. 

You take everything in as you walk further into his home, it’s been quite a while since you’ve been here. Between the pictures of wildlife to the half finished wood carvings, everything remains the same as you remember; perfectly lived in and a reflection of who Joel is at his core. 

The kitchen light flickers a few times when Joel flips the switch, damn light , his voice comes out as a low mumble. As the two of you approach the table, he pulls out one of the chairs gesturing for you to take a seat. You avoid his gaze, giving him a nod of gratitude before he rounded the corner of the table and headed toward the kitchen cabinets. 

“You want something to drink?” He asks as he grabs two glasses, the side clinking together as he sets them down on the countertop. “Liquor, fresh milk, water…” He only turns back to look at you once he finishes. 

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks though.” The last thing you need is alcohol, and you were sure that anything that went down would instantly be vomited back up given the fact that your stomach was in the most intense knots you have ever experienced. 

Joel stares at you for a second longer than usual before giving you a single nod, abandoning the glasses on the counter and taking a seat in the chair directly across from you. 

He clears his throat before asking, “Somethin’ botherin’ you?” His tone was genuine. You scoff quietly in response, if only I could tell you , you thought.

You didn’t respond immediately, staring off into the kitchen behind Joel and gathering your thoughts. “There’s…” You didn’t know how to respond or what to say. No, you couldn’t tell him. Or could you? “Yes, I just don’t know… I don’t” You cut yourself off, sucking in some air to challenge the suffocating feeling that manifested in your chest. 

“You don’t want to talk about it?” He says, not intending it as a question. Joel clasps his hands together, resting them on the table. Without looking at him, you slowly nod. “Nothin’ wrong with that.” 

Then a silence fell between the two of you. You didn’t know what else to say, you could barely look at him across the table from you and could feel his stare burning a hole into you. Guilt quickly washed over you and you slightly cringed to yourself before lifting your eyes up to Joel. His gaze was intently fixated on you, an intensity in his eyes you saw only a few times. 

Your lips part, your tongue wetting your dried out lips. “I’m sorry I woke you up for nothing,” Your voice was breathy and barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what to do, so…” 

Joel immediately shook his head before you were even able to finish. “Don’t– no, don’t apologize.” You give him a pitiful smile, though his expression did not break. The two of you stare at each other for what seems like minutes, though in reality it was probably only a few seconds at most. 

“How’s the library comin’ along?” He changed the subject, which you were thankful for. “Sounds like a lot of people are excited for it.” Joel cocked his head. 

“Yeah, probably a dozen people stop by a day just to see when we’ll be done.” You say as you tuck your hands beneath your thighs. “Hardest part is just filling the shelves with books, more tedious than hard though.” Joel was listening with intent. “Tony brought us a ton of books from the run last week, so that was pretty huge. On top of that people have been dropping books off to donate.” 

“It’ll…it’ll be a good addition to Jackson.” Joel responds and you nod.

There was a pause in the conversation, a bit of awkwardness rising in the air. 

“How’s patrol going in my absence?” You inquire, changing the subject. 

Joel let out a low whisper as he adjusted himself in the chair. “Same ol’, same ol’. Don’t tell Tommy I said this, but it’s been nice spending some one on one time with him. It’s been a while since it’s just been us.” He says, a glimmer growing brighter in his eyes. A small smile appeared on his face. “Sort of like old times, when we’d go on fishin’ trips together.” 

You smile at the sentiment, before completely changing your expression. “ Mmmm,” you hum, causing Joel to look at you. His eyes narrow slightly in confusion. “Do I have to worry about you replacing me?” You jokingly narrow your eyes back at him, cocking your head to one side. 

Joel let out a boisterous laugh. “God no, never,” his response was quick with no hesitation. “I say that, but I can only take so much of him… ask me in a few more weeks and I’ll be beggin’ on my hands and knees for you to come back.” 

A smile appeared on your face again, “I won’t make you beg too hard.” Joel instantly locked eyes with you through his brow-line, your stomach jumping at the eye contact. 

“No?” He raised his eyebrow as he spoke, his voice dark but somewhat playful as he gave you a devious smile.

You were the first to drop your gaze, followed up by Joel clearing his throat. 

“Um…” You fill the silence, trying to think of how to converse after that moment. In your peripheral view, you see Joel reach his hand over the table, gesturing toward you. 

“I think about ya’.” His eyes dart around as you look at him, searching for some sort of reaction from you. Everything around you went eerily silent. You raise your eyebrows almost stunned by this confession. All you wanted to say was: You do? However, you waited for him to continue, to take the lead on whatever was about to be said. It seems as if your reaction was enough because Joel nodded. “When I’m doin’ patrol and you aren’t there, at night before I fall asleep,” as he went on, he refused to look at you. From his expression you couldn’t quite tell what his intent was telling you this. “I–I’m…” At this point his head is hanging low, his eyes fixated on the table; he shook his head. “I’ll be right back.” 

His tone was different than before, you sensed a bit of hesitation, perhaps embarrassment. You return with a curt nod, although he didn’t give you a second look before he left and headed toward the stairs. You remained seated at the table as you listened to the thumps of each step he took, and when things went silent, you raised out of the chair. What just happened? Joel’s confession almost seemed unreal, did you imagine that just now? You turned in a circle, your eyes tracking the walls as you spin. Am I dreaming? Your face now twisted in confusion. 

Walking out of the kitchen, you stand  at the bottom of the staircase for a moment looking up. Joel was nowhere in sight. You blow out the air you had been holding on to as you pad over to the living room, turning on the light. Bracing your hand on the threshold, you paused.

It was considerably messy compared to the other parts of the house. A blanket was lazily draped over the back of the couch, the guitar laid on it back on the ground as if he had been playing it and put it there to come back to later. Records were scattered on top of the coffee table, alongside a book laying face down open. 

As you approach the bookshelves on the back wall, you run your hand along the soft blanket and carefully step over the guitar. 

Reaching for a book that had a red-brown leather exterior with silver foil details on the side, your ears perk up when you hear Joel coming down the steps. You remain still, running your fingers over the spine before pulling it out. You hear the floorboards creak as Joel gets closer and closer to the living room, the louder his steps get, the weight in your chest gets heavier. You remain still, not turning toward the entrance to acknowledge his presence. 

Seconds seem to pass by in hours, until you feel his warmth behind you. “You can borrow it if you’d like.” His voice shook slightly as he spoke, your breathing becoming shallow. No words would leave your throat. 

Quickly, you turn to face him, your arm dropping to your side with the book still within your grasp. Joel took a single step toward you, closing the already little distance between your bodies. You brought your hand up to the middle of his chest, placing the palm of your hand flat against him; his heart was beating fast. Out of instinct, your body stiffens, your eyes softening as you lock onto his. 

As you tilt your chin upwards, Joel leans in, his eyelids fluttering as the two of you become closer to one another. Your eyes remain wide open as you relish the sight, total relief overcoming you at what was about to happen. Your tortuous thoughts from earlier completely disappear and burn in the fire that rose in the core of your pelvis. It was just you and Joel right now. Right now that's all that mattered to you. 

Just as his lips met yours, your eyes fluttered shut. Bursts of colors explode beneath your eyelids, and at some point the book slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud. His hands were all over you now, one fisting at the back of your oversized night shirt, and the other gently caressing the side of your hip. Joel’s lips were soft, his movement a lot more gentle than you imagined on the many nights you couldn’t sleep. Yet, he was still passionate and the intensity made jolts of electricity rush through your body.

You quickly pull back from him, both of your hands holding loosely onto his biceps. He went to lean in again, but you pulled back again. “Tell me you want me to stay,” your voice is barely above a whisper, smooth and alluring. There was nothing more you wanted than this , what was happening right now. After that first dinner with Tommy and Joel, that was the turning point for you and ever since then that– Joel seemingly wanting it as much as you did–it was all you could think about whenever you were around him or when you’d see him at the bar, or across the community. 

Joel’s hands glided down your back before he clasped them together. His eyes shift off to the side before returning to you. You could tell he was contemplating, just like you had earlier; doing this…is it right or wrong? The way his hands press into your lower back told you that he wouldn't be able to resist you, not this time. 

His throat bobs as he looks into your eyes, his eyes softening and his lips parting. No words came out as he leaned into you, placing his forehead on yours. 

Joel nodded and whispers onto your lips, “Stay. ”

chapter eighteen coming soon! (I'm being so fr too, I'm just bad at writing smut and I want it to be perfect so bear with me)

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[astranite]

Rest

Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.

EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""

A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!

Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.

So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.

@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!

-----

“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper. 

Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.

He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight.  Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it. 

Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott  got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up. 

Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”

Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape. 

“But why, why today?” Scott asked. 

It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?

Virgil sat down by his side. 

“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled. 

Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection. 

Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up. 

What could it be? 

The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department. 

With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil. 

Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record. 

So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal. 

He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was. 

Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up. 

The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it. 

A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it. 

It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil. 

Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”

That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him. 

He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one. 

Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel. 

Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.” 

Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.

Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa. 

He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly. 

Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch. 

“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled. 

The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin. 

Scott was in heaven. 

When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”

Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.

He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet. 

Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book. 

Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently. 

Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people. 

Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it. 

Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet. 

The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because. 

Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket. 

Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep. 

Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares. 

A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.

Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest. 

[veryace-ficrecs]

Tim Drake & Jason Todd Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Optimally Sentimental by sprx77 - Rated T

Jason feels the tension fall completely out of his shoulders. Babyest bird is not feeling unsafe, right now; Tim doesn’t get this bitchy around people unless he trusts them. Random civilians and corporate fuckwits, they get soft-spoken, laughing Timothy Drake. Anyone Tim’s not quite comfortable with-- people he has to impress, like the Justice League-- get the world’s most perfect and efficient Robin. Seriously, it’s terrifying. He wears his competency like a sword and doesn’t bother with a shield. So, a snarky Tim-- a Tim who lashes out, without regard for if he’ll be hit back-- is a trusting Tim. A comfortable Tim.

Voicemails About Vital Organs by AshWinterGray - Rated T

Tim's missing spleen comes back to haunt him, and Jason is the only Bat and Family Member available to deal with the problem. There are some realizations, and Tam is just so do with these idiots.

Marlboro Reds and Birthday Wishes by crowclxb - Rated T

Tim can't ever remember the quotes he thinks describe his feelings. Also, everyone forgot his birthday. Not Jason, though. Tim just doesn't know that.

Swaddled in Warmth During Cold Times by melennui (orphan_account) - Rated G

Tim is chilly in the manor, but it's summer and it shouldn't be cold. To remedy this, he makes a hammock and gains a nice moment with his brother too.

i cry with anger / i have done no crime by CosmoKid - Rated M

They replaced him. Talia had told him that, taunted him with the grainy photos of a scrawny little kid in the Robin costume. A tiny little runt of a kid, dwarfed by the looming presence beside him. Fuck, did Bruce just hang around a pre-k and grab the first unfortunate kid whose parents were running late for pick up. Except no, Bruce replaced him with the rich little brat next door. The better, upgraded version of him; the newer, the shinier, the better version. The kid Bruce wanted Jason to be. The Robin Bruce really wanted. Timothy Jackson Drake.

take a chance on me by destiny919 - Rated T

"Hey, Stalker," Jason says without lowering his binoculars. Tim creeps out from behind the air conditioning unit and lets out a put-upon sigh that doesn't really fit a ten-year-old.

bright smile (and they can't see behind it) by AstraEllis - Rated T

Now that Jason's come home and actually spending time with his family, Tim figures his job is done. He kept Batman from self destructing, he was a halfway decent Robin, and Jason's home now. They're whole again, and they don't need Tim. Jason has some things to say about this assumption.

personal space by lawltam - Rated G

Tim gets hit with Ivy's pollen. He doesn't even check who he sent his outgoing help message to until he stumbles downstairs and spots Jason.

Adopt A Rescue! by sardonic_sprite - Rated G

I'm Bean. I'm very shy, but sweet, and I loove snuggles! I get very scared without my big brother, so we need to get a home together!  I'm Hunter. I don't trust very easy, but I'm very smart. We may not be litter-mates, but Bean is my brother and we stick together no matter what!   "Bean" had squirmed back out from underneath "Hunter" and was pawing at the glass again, looking right at Bruce. But he wasn't just pawing at the glass, he seemed to be making a pattern... "Oh, my God."

Breaking and Entering by Terranpheum - Rated T

Tim isn’t having a good day when he decides to use one of Red Hood’s safe houses as a rest stop. Only, the safe house seems a lot more comfortable than normal and isn’t as empty as he was hoping it was.

and i'm so sick of seventeen by Anonymous - Rated T

“You know this is bizarre, right?” “Jason, I’m just asking for a tiny favor—” “Tim, last week I watched you synthesize, in real time, a whole new organic compound for one of Crane’s toxins, on the fly, with half your guts hanging outside your body. How are you failing eleventh grade chemistry?” (Or; Tim gets Jason to help him with his chemistry homework. They bond.)

carry you home in my teeth by windupclock - Rated G

Jason takes his helmet off before he goes to deal with his replacement. He’s not expecting a hug. He gets one.

Only One Thing by Lulu_Rythmea - Rated T

"You're a great hugger, kiddo. 10/10 would hug again." "... you will? Really?" "Yeah, baby bird. Whenever you want." How far was that promise meant to go? OR: The fan-made sequel to destiny919's "Last Request".

hit me like a shooting star (so i can make a wish) by Ms_Trickster - Rated G

“He broke my camera!” Tim wails, incensed. “Not a crack, not a dent; it’s nothing but a pile of glass because he broke it!” “And his ankle,” Robin adds. “And my ankle!” “...I accidentally hit him with my car,” Batman reluctantly offers when Dr. Thompkins raises her eyebrow at him, causing her to choke on her next breath. (Or: One evening while birdwatching, a ten year old Tim Drake gets run over by the Batmobile.)

Whiplash by Lunette3002 - Rated T

When Barbara called to tell Tim that one of his safehouses had been broken into, he wasn't expecting to find an unconscious Red Hood. OR Words like "whiplash" can have two meanings :)

Bridges Not Yet Burned by Kgraces - Rated T

Somehow, they keep coming back to this: Tim, Jason, and a Batarang

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 - Rated G

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too. He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?” Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting. “Who is this?”

[plasticfangtastic]

My Masterlist

Hi my name is Plastic/Kay and I been meaning to make a masterlist of all my "The Boys" fanfictions. I Hate short stories and I write long chapters.

Might self-reblog after the cozy corner kinktober event--- after I add those fics.

My fave ships for the boys are Butchlander, Homeash and Homelander x A-Train (Homerun??) and nobody wants to give me that so i will be making my own for kinktober. Professional Homelander simp

Cuz tumblr only allows 10 links per post i be doing individual masterlists for my long projects and put the links here once this gets to max capacity i will do a new masterlist with this one as a link.. will update this frequently!

Currently working on:

Of The Same Poisonous Ilk (A Butchlander and Homelander self-cest fic) (on hiatus)

Building Blocks (A Butchalnder alt. au fic) (on hiatus)

Anybody Else Won't do (A Ashlander fic) (on Hiatus)

Thank you for reading my works!

Can We Be Lonely Together?:

R18+ Homelander x GN! Stalker/Supe Reader (or Homelander X Joe Goldberg... is up to you) this work is over 270 pages long and 120K plus words (status: completed)

Of The Same Poisonous Ilk:

R18+ Butchlander/ HL self-cest with a bit of Homewell (Status: WIP/ hiatus)

American Royalty:

M- Rating (australian rating no idea what the rating system is in the US/other countries so this is just like a bit over PG+13) Homelander X F!Reader/Dadlander fic. (Status: Completed)

Carnivorous lamb:

R18+ a OC and Homelander NTR sort of fic, so don't rec if you can't handle dark topic. (Status: Completed)

My one-shots

All fics are R18- first set its a collection of the cozy corner kinktober event, this will now include general one shots too.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 8

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 8.

Rory contemplated some of the worst hours of his life to reassure himself that being duct-taped to a chair in his own ship, unable to do anything but wait and see if his bounty came back alive or not, wouldn’t make a list of his top ten.

There was the first time he got in a fight with pirates and got his ass handed to him. He’d almost lost an arm.

There was that time when he was working salvage and got stuck outside a wreck of a ship in a malfunctioning suit. Hypoxia had set it and if someone on his team hadn’t gotten the hatch open and dragged him inside, he would have died. He’d never felt his heart beat that hard before.

And then there was the first time he went to space—the first time he left the planet where he’d been born. He hadn’t been able to see the stars, packed into the cargo haul of a rickety ship, shoulder to shoulder with a hundred other desperate souls. It had shaken so hard, the hull creaking and screaming as they broke atmosphere. He had never been more scared before or since. That was the worst hour. The one where he thought he’d die crammed into that dark room, so close to escape, without a single star in sight.

This was not the worst.

This was not even close.

But it definitely felt like the worst when he considered just how much trouble that strange, naïve primer could be getting into on Styx. Where were they even going? If they wanted to piss off their family by running away, why this way? Why not go to Eaton? Why not go any damn direction other than the edge? The Solar Court had given up on this stretch of space—had found their limit and abandoned settlements along the border, like skeletons to mark the beginning of no-man’s-land.

The ship door opened, his ears popping and his head whipping to the side to try to see the entrance hall. “Stardust?”

It could be anyone. His primer could be anywhere.

“Did you enjoy your time alone?” they called, sounding chipper.

Rory laughed. “I spent the last two hours contemplating my mortality and just how quickly life can go to shit…”

Nodding, the primer walked onto the bridge. “You’re being dramatic.”

He huffed a laugh but forgot what he was going to say when he saw them. “Oh, look at you. I wasn’t expecting this much leather. Okay, I’m willing to admit that you might look better in that outfit than you did in my clothes…” Because he definitely wasn’t ready to admit how much he’d liked seeing them in his clothes… Did they get their hair cut too? That side shave was clean.

Stardust smiled and even did a little turn for him to get a good look at those leather ankle boots and tight pants, the faded t-shirt and leather jacket.

“What size is that jacket?” And where had they found it? He’d been looking for something like that for years. “Wait…How did you buy all of that?”

They blinked at him like they didn’t understand the question.

Rory shook his head. “There’s no way you had time to barter my stuff for that… Did you get into my account somehow or…” He sagged into his bindings. “Oh, Stardust. Tell me you didn’t use your own accounts.”

The primer pressed their shoulders back and their chin up. “It’s not like it’s a family account,” they said. “I have my own.”

“Not the family account? You think they don’t have tabs on your private one?”

Stardust rolled their eyes and waved a hand at him dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.” They settled into the pilot’s seat—his seat—and tapped at his controls, bringing his ship to life.

Rory ground his teeth, tugging at the tape he knew wasn’t going to budge but couldn’t stop himself from trying. “You really didn’t put much thought into running away, did you? Just figured that since you were already this far away, might as well keep going? Or did you like being in cuffs?” He grinned cruelly, hoping to get a reaction out of them. “You know, if that’s the case, I can cuff you again.”

He saw their hand hesitate over the keys.

Rory leaned forward as far as he could. “In fact, I promise that I will,” he whispered.

Stardust whipped around in the chair to glare at him, but when they opened their mouth, the ship beeped.

Incoming call. L-Class Yacht.

He saw the way their eyes flared at that announcement and barked a laugh. “That’ll be one of your relations. At least they’ll be able to tell from your shopping spree that I wasn’t taking advantage… Although I am definitely going to try on that jacket when I get loose.”

“Shut up! You’re not going anywhere, Cosmic. You’re in that chair until I’m done with your boat.”

He jerked at his restraints again and bared teeth at the back of their head. “Oh, I’m getting loose. See, you don’t know this yet because you have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but no one stays kidnapped forever. I mean, just look at yourself! By all rights, you should still be in a pirate’s storage compartment, but here you are, getting comfy in my seat, touching my controls, flying my damn ship—”

Another beep. Incoming call. L-Class Yacht.

He leaned back into his seat. “Are you going to get that?”

Stardust angrily tapped a key. The ship beeped. Call declined.

Rory gaped. “Are you out of your mind?”

The primer huffed a laugh, fingers flying over the controls. “Are you scared they’ll be mad?”

“Scared? Yes. Yes, I am scared of what your nightmare family might do if they think I fucked up this job. Have you met your grandmother? I haven’t and would like to keep it that way. Why do you think even pirates won’t go into the prime quad?” He didn’t need to wait for their response. “Because your family is there and they’re too snobby to step foot past their territory lines. So, assholes like me bring damsels like you back!”

Stardust tsked and he wondered if they’d rolled their eyes at him too. “I think we can both agree I’m not a damsel… and if you’re right, then I’m free and clear.”

“No. No, that does not mean that if you stay out of the prime they won’t get to you.”

The ship beeped. Detached from dock. Resuming course.

Rory sighed. “You’re not listening.”

The ship jostled as it decoupled from the station, stars gliding past the window and engines humming. “Don’t worry so much,” Stardust said, another tap at the console and they were off—cutting a line through space. “You’re going to be fine.”

“If they think I double-crossed them, or just botched this job, they will put a bounty on my head and hire someone else to drag you back. There’s no getting out of this.” Was he really trying to reason with this spoiled brat again? “And didn’t you want to go home? You made me promise.”

They shook their head but stubbornly wouldn’t look back at him. “You said you’d take me home. I never said the prime was my home. But I’m not holding you to that promise, okay? So just, sit back, relax, and you’ll have your ship back soon enough.”

Rory watched their shape bathed in starlight from the window, like a shadow being tested. “Prime isn’t home? Since when?”

They didn’t move. They didn’t answer.

He scoffed. Fucking primers. “Fine. Fine!” He pulled at his restraints again. “But when I starve to death in my own ship, that’s on you, Stardust. You’ll be a murderer as well as a thief!”

They finally looked back at him, eyes shining. “Then I guess we’re the same.”

Rory laughed cruelly. “Fuck you. We’re not the same!” he snapped but they both smiled. They were not the same—not by a long shot. And Stardust wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t even convinced they were a good thief, though admitting that in his current state would be too embarrassing to bear. “Seriously… Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”

They kicked the lock on the floor and spun the chair around to face him. They looked way too comfortable in his seat, leaning into the side and putting a boot up on the cushion. “It’s not that bad.”

“I can’t get kidnapped by my own kidnappee. This will wreck my reputation.”

Stardust shrugged, trying not to smile and failing.

“Oh, you don’t give a shit about that? I’m really starting to regret patching you up.”

The primer put their elbow on the armrest and their chin in their palm, watching him squirm.

“You are officially my least favorite kidnappee.”

Stardust grinned.

No primer should have a smile that crooked.

[youredreamingofroo]

An Intervoo with Roo

Thanks for the tag @gamyrmaiden and @changingplumbob !! I completely forgot to do this earlier so Jade doing this actually reminded me 😭

As usual it's under the cut and tagged people will be at the end :)

I may put two checks for some of these just because they're applicable to him, but I'll do my best to keep it to one !

Personal

Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable

Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other

Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other

Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

Family

Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children

Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

Affiliation: orphaned / adopted/ disowned/ raised by birth parent / not applicable

Traits and Tendencies

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious/ reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / vicious bastard / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown

loyal / disloyal / unknown

faithful / unfaithful / unknown

Beliefs

Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

Philosophical: yes / no

Sexuality and Romantic Inclination

Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naïve and clueless / romance suspicious

Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

Abilities

Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Habits

Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes/ frequently / alcoholic

Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker

Recreational Drugs: never / quit / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict

Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess

Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater

Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic

Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

i'm tagging @miralure @groovetrys @buttertrait @acuar-io @flovoid @elderwisp @holocene-sims @vercosims @birdietrait @stinkrascal and anybody else who wants to do this :))) (feel free to ignore if you've already done this or don't want to)

[hard-times-paramore]

Assassin's Creed fanfic: Raw Emotion

Ao3 link

Tags: Desmond Miles x Elijah Miles' Mother | Fluff and Smut | Hurt/Comfort | Sub Drop | Aftercare

Words: 1832

Summary:

Desmond is just a boy looking to live his life. Enjoying what freedom has to offer.

And the highs and lows that come with it.

Samantha's hands were twined to her boyfriend's while they made out in the shadows of the alleyway behind the Bad Weather club.

The night was reasonably cold - just enough that they could use it as an excuse to stay glued to each other. Slowly, as they kissed, she let go of his hand to completely embrace him.

"We should get out of here." He chuckled, between breaths.

Samantha pouted. "What's wrong with here?"

"Uh, everything?" He said. "Ever ride on a motorcycle before?"

"Can't say I have." She answered. They'd been dating for almost a year, and she still hadn't gone on a ride with him - she was a bit nervous around the things.

Hence why she was hoping they could just stay in there.

"Do you wanna call it a night?" He asked, much to her disappointment. "I'm free some other t—"

"No, wait!" She interrupted.

Being honest, they could do better than a dirty alley behind a loud club.

"Alright." She sighed, with a smile. "Let's get out of here."

Her boyfriend only had one helmet - so he let her use it. He drove them across twelve blocks up to his apartment - at 2am, the streets weren't as busy. The lights and billboards of New York flashed past Samantha as she held onto Desmond's torso, clutching so hard she could feel his ribs. She'd had a few drinks before, when meeting him at his club. Her slightly blurry vision and impaired thoughts only made the city prettier to her eyes.

They were already kissing again when they got to the door. Desmond struggled to find the right key with one hand, having the other at Sam's waist. He pulled her away only long enough to locate the keyhole.

"Let me breathe!" He joked.

"You don't get to breathe." She laughed back. "It's a special occasion."

Sam had only been to his house a handful of times - but she'd always been amazed at how he managed to keep such a small, shitty apartment so clean. It was already a shabby building in a poor district. His landlord didn't give a damn about the state of the place he overcharged for. But Desmond somehow managed to fix the faulty dishwasher and get rid of the bathroom mold by himself.

Truth be told he didn't keep many belongings, and those he did were always extremely organized. He told her he used to move a lot - it was just a habit he got along the way.

Desmond couldn't tell her the real reason. It wasn't quite that he moved a lot - it's that he had to be ready to move again. Two years ago, he had escaped from his parents' home, who led a weird, alternative lifestyle in a desert community near the Black Hills. They raised him on tough love and mild neglect, and were the origins of most of his trust issues. The reason he hadn't invited Sam over that many times, or the reason they'd never had sex before, despite dating for almost a year. That he'd hardly ever have sex at all - as doing so meant letting someone as deep in your life as they did in your body.

Sam was right, it was a special occasion.

They managed to part their faces long enough to strip and were stumbling to bed when Sam stopped in her tracks.

"Uh, do you have a condom?" She asked.

"Ah shit." Desmond sighed. Since he never had sex, he didn't bother to keep them around. "It's always something. I totally forgot, Sam, I'm sorry."

"Whatever. We'll remember next time." She said, moving closer to him once again. He briefly held her back.

"Whoa, you're sure?" He said. "What if you..."

"Nah, I had my period last week." She justified. "More or less. It's just this time, Dez."

Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they were too hot and horny to stop and reschedule. Desmond, for all his planning, was still 18 and an idiot. So he nodded, and fell into bed with her.

He was the one scared now. He's never done it with her - it was only the second or third time he'd have sex at all. So many things could go wrong. What if it felt bad? What if she didn't enjoy herself?

Despite his best efforts, Sam noticed. His breath wasn't fast just from the flushed heat.

"Don't be nervous." She whispered, reassuringly, her voice sweet like chocolate. "I'll make it worth your while."

They were both young, inexperienced. It was messy, quite tiring, but Sam took the lead and managed to give them a great time.

Only... Desmond worried if it was supposed to hurt like that.

Sam seemed to be enjoying the pain. It was so easy for her - she was nearing a second orgasm and he hadn't even managed to come yet. It's not like it didn't feel good - oh, his body trembled and ached with the raw sensations, and it was getting a rise out of him - he wanted more. He wanted it to keep going forever.

But it also felt like so much more than he could handle. He was overwhelmed.

He tried to stay in the moment. He looked at his girlfriend squirming under him and kissed every inch of her he could reach. He talked to her.

"S-Sam..." he panted. "I love you."

"I love you too." She answered and locked her arms around him. "I love you too, baby."

Desmond choked up a cry when he finally came. He used the last of his wits to finish off that second orgasm for her. He heard her shout and tremble, and he hovered over her for a few more seconds until he was absolutely sure she was satisfied.

Just as soon as he pulled out he collapsed into his corner of the bed.

Sam took a deep breath, shaking her head a little. "You're totally good at this." She said, with a hoarse laugh, - even though she was the most experienced of the two, and the one to ensure their good times. She sat with her back against the headboard. "You've been hiding that from me all these months? Shame on you, Dez."

It was a genuine compliment, and would've made anyone very proud. If it weren't for... the shame.

Desmond was bundled in the sheets, feeling a knot grow bigger and tighter in his throat. He didn't even want to risk breathing.

"Dez?"

He was good at staying silent. Almost too good. It was a bit scary to Sam, when he did that. It's like he disappeared in plain sight, a ghost still warm by her side.

He didn't even want to breathe - but his exhausted, flushed body forced it out of him. He coughed, and just like that, he was sobbing.

"Oh, Dez." Samantha turned to hold him.

Desmond couldn't even make sense of his feelings. Why was he crying? It felt good. Better than any he'd had before. And he loved Sam more than any girl he'd ever met. This had been his longest relationship to date, and she understood him like no one ever had. And now... that shame.

"Dez. Talk to me." Sam whispered, holding him.

"I'm s-sorry." He mumbled the words out, still shocked at his own tears. He knew that was a bad thing, a man crying over sex. It was something to be ridiculed. He knew.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Baby, look at me." She asked. "Turn to me, please."

Desmond shifted in bed, slowly turning to her. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asked, concerned. "Did it feel bad...? Did... did I hurt you?"

"No. It wasn't you, Sam. It felt good. And you were amazing." He admitted. "I'm sorry. It's just me."

"Those things happen, you know." Sam held a hand against his neck. Desmond could feel his own heartbeat palpitating under her skin. "It's just a reaction. It's not a bad thing."

"I'd rather you were honest than just try to make me feel better." He sighed, bitter.

"I am. Sometimes it's just a lot. Sometimes it's a lot for me too." She assured. "Hell, I cried like a baby in my first time."

Desmond thought he could believe her, if he had a few more minutes.

"Do you want me to get us some water?""

He nodded, believing some time alone might help, and watched as she got up and made her way to the kitchen.

It did the opposite His heart was feeling a little emptier now that her side of the bed was as well. Desmond sat up and wiped his tears away.

Thankfully, Sam quickly came back with a glass. She handed it to him, and watched as he drank.

"I'm not going to leave." She assured, embracing his trembling shoulders. "You'll be okay, baby. I love you."

Desmond sensed her warmth and finally mustered a smile. The kiss he shared with her in that moment felt almost more intimate than the sex itself.

"You have people you can count on." She assured. "I want to be that person for you. I want to never leave your side."

Every once in a while he would catch glances of a deeper truth in the world. Like using all five senses at the same time. In those moments, he could barely make out silvery auras of color around people. Blue was his favorite one.

In that moment, he saw a halo of distant blue around Samantha's face. And he knew he could trust her.

They stayed embraced for hours, and he slowly stopped crying. Chatting into the daylight, Desmond finally told her about his escape from his parents' house.

-----

She said she'd never leave him.

If only she had meant it.

In the course of the next two months, Samantha started acting strange. She grew distant, visiting him less and less at Bad Weather, missing his phone calls, or ignoring his e-mails. When they saw each other, they talked about trivial things, but by the end of it, it didn't get anywhere past small talk.

When Desmond finally expressed his frustrations, she broke up with him.

Heartbroken as he was, Desmond still tried giving her space. He hoped, maybe they could stay friends. But Samantha left New York not two weeks after, to go live with her mother.

Desmond didn't blame himself. For once, he understood her. There must have been something rotten she wanted to escape. There must have been a different life she wanted to live. His only regret was that they couldn't have lived it together.

But he was already tired of looking over his shoulder - for parents or relatives that might never come, trying to track him down. He wouldn't put another person through the same thing.

Desmond drowned himself into the drinks he served. It would be alright - he still had his own life to live.

He never knew the real reason she left.

And he never would.

[junosmindpalace]

Hi there! It's my birthday 🎂 (July 31) so I was wondering if I could get a senku x fem reader on what he would do for his crush on her birthday

hi there anon! I hope you had a wonderful birthday!! it took me almost two whole months to put this out i am SO sorry. regardless i hope you enjoy!

p.s., honestly…the stone world gift was an excuse for me to write about a tiktok i saw on fireworks. i know technically they arent birthday gifts but they still represent celebrations!.....

synopsis: how he celebrates your special day.

wc: 930

warnings: corny

Birthday? Oh, yeah. He totally forgot.

Just kidding! Of course he didn’t- that’s just how he acts.

In reality, he’s known your birthday is fast approaching and has been contemplating what to do for you on your special day.

In both modern and stone age, Senku’s gifts aren’t the most direct, and if they are, it’s in the most casual and lighthearted way possible. No, his gifts are more so phenomenons, something spectacular or useful that he just so happens to present on your birthday.

MODERN WORLD:

Before the petrification, Senku had a lot more convenient birthday gift options. Clothing, accessories, merchandise, equipment for anything and everything- and all of it could come with a gift receipt! And yet you still have to be really attentive if you want to figure out what his gift is and when he presents it to you, because it isn’t always obvious. 

Maybe one year, he’ll show you that a science project you two’ve been working on for weeks is finally finished (because he worked his ass off in his free time prepping it), and the two of you can witness the product of your hard work on your special day.

Maybe the year after that, he’ll tell you about this super cool opportunity to get involved in something that’s of interest to you; maybe some convention, competition or workshop. Hell, he might even tag along if he thinks he can learn a thing or two!

And maybe the year after that, he’ll invite you to that ramen joint he loves to visit with his dad and treat you to anything you’d like on the menu, but only because he’s been dying to go and definitely not because he wanted to give you a nice birthday meal. 

But for as long as you’ve known him, you know that Senku likes to use your birthday as an excuse to indulge in something science related, and this will probably be the only time he’s  upfront with a gift. He might tinker with items of yours, invite you over to make something techy, or build you your very own science equipment, such as a telescope, because you’re always complimenting his. It’s sitting cross legged on the floor of Senku's bedroom, talking animatedly about a new science concept that brings a joyful end to your day, whether it was good or bad overall. You walk home with a little skip in your step as you reflect on the time you spent with your friend and the thoughtful day he had organized for you. 

“Thank you for the birthday gift.”

“Oh, that was today? Completely slipped my mind. Yeah, let’s count that as your gift.” 

STONE WORLD:

He’s the only one who knows the exact date off the top of his head before civilization was rebuilt. He’s been keeping a mental calendar for thousands of years, unlike most of the others who were petrified. With so much work to be done and learning to adjust to your new lives, your birthday just didn’t seem that important to you. 

And Senku wholeheartedly agrees with your logic- but it was still your birthday. 

Of course, he’s dropping no sign that he even knows what day it is. He spends the entire day treating you and everyone around him as he normally does- giving out instruction, some science lessons and contributing to construction. It’s during the late evening when the sun has fully set that Senku’s birthday gift shines brighter than any star in the night sky. 

Senku had asked the villagers days ahead to help him contribute to your gift without letting on that it was for you. He had the brawn of the group collect materials and asked the rest of the team to help him with the chemistry and design. He thought hard about what would leave an impression, but not seem too personalized. Something that the entire Kingdom of Science could indulge in. He thought back to his previous “gifts”- ramen, a furnace, a brilliantly decorated tree…

Ding ding! He had a winner as soon as he remembered the look on yours and all the other villagers’ faces when the dozens of lights decorated on the tree were first lit.

The Kingdom of Science is in collective amazement as they marvel at the tons of fireworks lighting up the sky, the deafening crackles and pops pulsing through the air. Even those who had seen spectacular light shows were dumbfounded by the rockets that shot up and exploded into ropes of brilliant gold and silver light. Gasps, praises and mutters went around the group, but Senku’s gaze only swept across the others before settling on you. 

Little fireworks exploded in your widened eyes and made them shimmer, reflecting your inner feelings of surprise. Senku observed carefully as your mouth, wide open in disbelief, slowly morphed into a smile; a big, glowing smile that conveyed all of the happiness and excitement you were feeling that was almost as bright as the colors fading in and out of the sky above. The scientist didn’t need any words of praise from you- he could tell he was successful in creating a memorable gift just by watching you marvel over it. 

You were too enamored with the sight in front of you to notice Senku gently place his hands on your shoulders and move you to the side, just a little further back from your previous spot, so you could get a better view past the great forest surrounding you. He stared at you only for a brief couple of seconds before dropping his hands and admiring the view for himself with a small smile.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

[coconutcordiale]

my top gun comment bingo card! fics i used for each square (with ao3 links!) below. thank you to all the mods for organizing this!! @topguncommentbingo

set during tg86 canon: and gamble for the sun by susiecarter (IceMav | M)

has an archive warning: every now and then I get a little bit terrified by closet_monster (Hangster | M)

rated T: cinnamon and sugar by bottledyarn (Hangster | T)

set between the movies: i can wait for years if i gotta by BeautifulCreature (Hangster | T)

forgot to comment on: my whole existence is flawed by anonymous (Hangster | E)

platonic: for one night and one night only: the idiots together by andthentheybow (Rooster & Hangman & Phoenix & Bob | T)

author you haven't read: but if you decide to, i'll ride in this life with you by boasamishipper (Macheresin | T)

rated M: you do it all your life and you never get through it by thegeckbros (Hangster | M)

canon compliant: too good to be true (can't take my eyes off you) by gr0gu (Hangster | E)

fanvid: fever by lilly_the_kid (Multiple | G)

art rated gen/teen: western sunset by enthyrea (Hangster | G)

tagged fluff: shrouding us in moments unforgettable by magdarko (Hangster | G)

free choice: if they fit we'll dance in the street by doodlewrite (Macheresin | G)

completed june22 or earlier: come the same colors by susiecarter (IceMav | M)

first comment on a fic: take the winning shot by anonymous (Hangster | E)

ship you haven't read: a perscription you'll love to have me fill by anonymous (Fanboy/Hangman...Hangboy? | E)

completed between dec22-feb23: I've been thinking (the truth is…) by ropememory (Macheresin | T)

rated G: young | numb | starved by crueltether (Hangster | G)

rated E: A Fever You Can't Sweat Out by perishablealex (Hangster | E)

from a fandom event: pulling down back streets, deep in your head by thegeckbros (Hangster | E)

WIP: wish there was something real in this world full of you by Cunninlinguist (RoosMav, Hangster | E)

last comment was 5+ mos ago: My only motto in life is 'don't lose' by NeverwinterThistle (Hangster | T)

art rated M/E: Cock-A-Doodle-Doo by lowlife_symptoms (Hangster | E)

completed july-aug22: tonight you're a stranger by attolians (Hangster | T)

completed between mar-may23: green eyes, red face by ironicpanicattack (IceMav | E)

[scoops404]

Taking a break from my Powerpoint Presentation (it's google slides but whatever) preparation to circle back to the thing @jestbee tagged me in - my fic graveyard

Before even looking, I don't think I have many. I can think of one big one, but we'll see if there are more when I open it up.

I organize mine by year, so here is 2022:

"5 times Dream called George baby accidentally + 1 time it was on purpose"

HAHAH i forgot about this. 2,500 words. I think I stopped writing it because it didn't feel like it was going anywhere and I got distracted by something else. I think this was right before I got sucked into writing Curse and Cure so my brain went entirely into that and forgot this one... oops

"Trans GNF fic" 11K - I really liked this one actually but I let a few trans friends read it to do a sensitivity beta and um it didn't really pass? they gave valid criticism and to fix it I would have had to kind of scrap most of it and I didn't really want to do that because my brain thought of another idea so I went and did that instead. This was going to be FWB cunnilingus fic very heavily pwp - so maybe it's for the best. I'd rather scrap it than write anything hurtful or offensive, so maybe in another universe ((also, this is the one I was thinking of that I never finished))

"Secret Santa 2022 Fic" 400 words. It never got off the ground because my giftee left the fandom and I wasn't really feeling it anyway (wrote Deep in Dream instead and won't apologize for that) but it was going to be very we-didn't-know-we-were-dating and closely canon compliant (but then i kinda did that with Just One Touch).

"2022 Halloween Exchange" (35 words lol) this also got canceled because it was around the time of the drituation, BUT -- my giftee was @extrasteps who I didn't know at the time when we were assigned, but is now very dear to me. But this was going to be soulmates, george as a witch/seer vibes gnf flying to orlando. george has visions and can see other people's soulmates but doesn't know he can't see his own so when he doesn't see Dream as his soulmate, he thinks they aren't soulmates until they meet and.... I wasn't quite sure where i was going with it but it would have kicked ass

Okay, I guess I have more than I remember...

"The Whether" 2,500 words - this one was going to be about dream's exploration of his sexuality and using George (with permission) as a safe space to explore that by flirting with him off-stream, etc. But like an explicit conversation is had about it where dream makes sure George is okay with that and then he just fake flirts his way into falling in love with George. Delves into physical -- George is like you keep questioning all this stuff, so just suck my dick if you want to try it. You know, because he's such a good friend. This one is absolutely Scoops bonkers crazy because Dream does a drodcast and like talks it out loud and realizes on the drodcast that he's actively in love with George. Peak comedy. I don't remember why I decided not to finish this one, might have been because someone I'm friends with was writing something similar and I didn't want to inadvertently copy so I put it on the back burner and then just forgot about it. in this era of Scoops, I can see that if I talked about this one, then people would have hyped me up and I would have ended up writing it fully probably.

2023:

"George's Pretty Privilege" 660 words. This was like one of those small things I had to write after finishing a big project i'd been working on for months (in this case, deep in dream) for something to be completely different. The idea was all the times George used and then realized his pretty privilege. I didn't finish this one because it was kinda boring and then something else caught my interest. Oh! We did a Spin The Wheel challenge and that made me write Shine Here To Us and that took all my attention away

That's it for 2023, besides a Merthur fic I've been working on forever so I don't consider that one "dead"

I don't even have 2021 on this laptop, but I know of at least one - Dream surprises George in line at a con while he's still faceless and pretends to be a fan. I almost uploaded that one.

Anyway, those are my dead and gone and not being resurrected fics. I hope you enjoyed. I got pretty good in 2023 of picking projects that I actually wanted to invest my time into and work to finish them. Taking that energy into 2024.

If you're a writer, feel free to do this as well!! And feel free to ask any questions you want about any of these ideas :D

[pillow-anime-talk]

my home.

request: hi 💕 may i request how would samatoki react to the death of his s/o, but 2 years later he found out that she was alive but was too ashamed to face him because of all the hurtful things she did to him while she was hypnotized by a powerful evil organization (not chuuoku) also if you don’t mind can you make it fluffy and spicy but the sex is soft and fluffy if that makes sense…hehehehe 🫶🏻 feel free to ignore if it’s too much for you ☺️

# tags: headcanon; current relationship (?); flashbacks; mostly drama and angst; also romance; light smut; sfw to nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual activities, it’s not the first time, but it feels like the first time, body worship, vanilla, pet names, kisses, crying, mention of alcohol

includes: female reader ft. samatoki aohitsugi {hypmic}

author’s note: i’m slowly coming back on tumblr! thank you for waiting so long, anonnie! love u.

↘ Two years ago you disappeared, which changed Samatoki a lot; although he has always been a mysterious and menacing looking man, after your disappearance  he took on an aggressive and guilty attitude as well. Because he knew you didn'’ disappear of your own free will, and that worried him even more than if you'd just run away from him without even a word of explanation. But the fact that you were probably forced to do it caused a strange feeling in the man's heart and a sour face.

↘ For two years you had no contact and Samatoki asked many people for help; his friends from MAD TRIGGER CREW, from other rap groups, even his sister and the whole Party of World. He’s tried to find you in your hometown, your favorite places, your old schools, and even your every former workplace he can remember. He tried to reach out to people who might have been involved in your disappearance, but unfortunately he didn’t succeed. For almost two years he couldn’t find even a clue as to where you were hiding, and the police, who were asked to investigate the case after three months of searching, pronounced you dead.

↘ You were the only one who knew the truth about your stay and the situation that took place. The truth was that you were brazenly manipulated by the organizations created by a person who was in love with you during studies. This person knew perfectly well about your relationship with Samatoki and made a plan that was to revive the relation between the two of you and then enter your mind in such a way that you forgot about your boyfriend and shut yourself off completely from social media and the real world. For almost a year you lived in a European country at that time, deepening your friendly relationship with the person who made you lose contact with people important to you (including relatives).

↘ After almost a year of living a life that wasn’t yours you had a slight accident; on your way back from the store, you were hit by a rather large car, and the impact on the asphalt was so strong that you lost consciousness. In the hospital, you not only regained mind, but also memories, including all those related to Japan, Samatoki and your love relationship. You remembered your hobbies, friends, and family, and also you felt disgusted when you remembered that you did things you didn’t like (e.g., you ate olives or liquorice that you would normally never try).

↘ Without a word, you ran away from your captor and then returned to Japan, more precisely to Yokohama. For several long months you debated whether to call Samatoki (hoping he hadn’t changed his number), or visit his sister, or write to his friends, but each time you cowered like a child before the first slide down the playground slide. Only after seven weeks did you dare to call your parents and relatives, and then your closest friend who cried with you on the phone.

↘ You met Samatoki quite by accident when you were sitting in the park late in the evening. The warm light of the lantern and the moon was falling on your legs, on which a folder full of letters to your (former?) boyfriend was placed. From time to time you just notted down your own thoughts.

↘ He was the one who first noticed the other person. For a moment he thought you were a figment of his imagination (he hasn’t slept in 2 days, drank too much coffee and was nervous), but then he smelled the perfume you’ve been wearing. He immediately said your first name and you stiffened slightly.

↘ You felt like running away and never coming back; on the one hand, the sight of the white-haired man was salvation for you, but on the other, you were terrified that he would raise his voice at you.

↘ However, to your surprise, Samatoki dropped to his knees right next to you and snuggled into your stomach. You heard a slight sniffle and felt his large body tremble. Instantly, you too felt great emotions, and at the same time relief, which released with tears on your cheeks.

*:･ﾟ✧*

↘ You talked on a park bench for several minutes, and then Samatoki took you for a walk to find a good coffee shop. There he bought the two of you warm jasmine tea, and then you walked towards your apartment, talking and discussing all the time.

↘ When you were telling him about your experiences, your fear and uncertainty about returning to Japan, and about your shame that you haven’t spoken to him so far; the white-haired man didn’t interrupt you even once. He gave you time to catch your breath, to cry a little, and to catch your thoughts.

↘ When you reached your apartment, only then did the man dare to speak.

↘ “I missed you and no matter what, I’m glad you’re alive and well. I’m really happy.” His warm smile, the first smile in a long time, was sincere and gentle. The corners of your mouth also turned up. “I hope your current partner respects you a lot.”

↘ “I don’t have anyone... I still love you, Samatoki.” You smiled slightly and he raised an eyebrow. “I know that a lot has changed in these two years and you don't feel the same about me, but you can always count on me a-and...”

↘ Your words are interrupted by a tender, long and slightly wet kiss. Samatoki still tasted the same as it did two years ago, and his cool hands landed on your hips and neck. Tears welled up in your eyes and you pulled him closer to you.

↘ “Will you stay the night? I don’t want to be alone today...”

↘ “I will stay wiht you.”

→ nsfw part ←

↘ After taking a short but warm bath and eating supper together, you decided to talk a little bit more. During this conversation, you apologized to the man many times and your cheeks were red from embarrassment (and maybe from some alcohol you two decided to drink? Who knows...). You talked until three in the morning, until you went to bed.

↘ On the soft mattress you immediately cuddled up to Samatoki’s naked chest and closed your eyes. You haven’t slept next to each other in two years, and you haven’t been as close to a male as you are now in two years. The slight excitement and memories of your relationship immediately hit your head. You knew it wasn’t a good time, and months apart was painful, but you couldn’t help the fact that your underwear was wet and your blush was even bigger. Samatoki, of course, felt a slight wetness on his hip and immediately understood what was happening.

↘ “Are you okay, Y/N?”

↘ “Yes. It’s just... I haven’t seen you for a long time. I didn't think I’d react like this. Please let’s go to sleep. Just ignore me.” Your voice was sincere yet uncertain at the same time. You felt stupid for acting like a horny teenager again, but it wasn’t up to you. It was... a natural reaction of the body.

↘ “Are we still a couple?” He asked curiously and you looked at him. “... Because if we are, I should help my girlfriend, right? After all, we never broke up, so we’re still together, yeah?"

You smiled slightly then nodded your head. ‘Toki was right, you never broke up – on the contrary; you kept thinking about each other and reminiscing about old times.

↘ The sex that ensued between the two of you that late night was probably the best sex you’ve ever had. And a little drop of alcohol only helped you to relax and feel better, although you admitted that you felt a little pain at first (as if you had sex for the first time in your life, but you knew it was the result of a long break and due to not masturbating for months). However, after a few light movements and longer kisses, you felt more pleasure and blissful peace.

↘ You both didn’t forget about the condom that Samatoki carried in his wallet, although he admitted that he wears them out of habit because of you rather than wanting to use them with a random girl. He admitted during your sexual intercourse that he hadn’t had sex in two years either, but he masturbated a lot in the shower.

↘ The boy was careful and when you let him do more, only then did he increase the force of his hip thrusts or his grips against your soft skin. The sex itself, however, remained vanilla and tender until the end.

↘ “Don’t ever leave me again, okay?”

↘ “I promise, baby.” You whispered, snuggling into his bare chest again. You really missed your lover and you were glad that despite all the hurt you did him, he forgave you and loved you again.

[jennyboom21]

Over the next two days, we’ll be getting into all that and more with hours of presentations and deep-dive analyses. This is set to be a smallish, grassroots-y gathering—only 25 in-person campers are enrolled plus a dozen or so volunteers running the show. Meanwhile, about 300 remote Gaylors have signed up for streaming access to the learning sessions, building on the success of a virtual Gaylor summit that happened last year.

As a Gaylor myself, I’d be here even if Cosmo hadn’t sent me. I introduce myself to campers as we craft cute name tags for ourselves in the lobby of the Craigville Retreat Center. I meet Morgan, 30, who came here from conservative small-town Wisconsin, where she’s been living with her parents due to some unspecified tumult in her life. “I am desperate to be around gay people,” she tells me. When she heard about Camp Gaylore, “I jumped at the opportunity to come here and feel a sense of community.”

Paris, 25, a Boston-based attendee who grew up in Arizona, agrees. “With everything that’s happening legislatively right now, it’s really important to be able to find spaces where you’re able to be with like-minded individuals and feel safe and comfortable expressing yourself.”

Nevada, 25, a newcomer to the Gaylor realm, tells me they were able to attend only thanks to a scholarship the camp offered to defray the $350 tuition cost. “I really thought this was a dreamland that was completely out of reach for me,” they say. Just being here, in congress with others, feels like some kind of miracle.

So maybe I should revise: This weekend is about decoding Taylor Swift songs...but only sort of.

I didn’t travel far to get here, but I’ve come a long way. Four summers ago, I left my marriage to a straight man, right around the time Taylor released Lover. I had a passing familiarity with her oeuvre but didn’t consider myself much of a fan. I was crashing with friends—a lesbian couple—while searching for a new home and striving to create a more openly queer life for myself. With its pastel cover and pro-LGBTQ+ anthem “You Need to Calm Down,” Lover got a ton of airplay in that two-bedroom apartment. And the breakup songs—“Death by a Thousand Cuts,” “I Forgot That You Existed”—certainly spoke to me. But given everything I was going through, Taylor’s music felt like little more than a fluffy distraction.

Jump cut to the following July, when Taylor surprise-released folklore. Every lesbian I knew seemed weirdly excited for this album. With my divorce freshly finalized, I now had the bandwidth to dig in. I discovered Gaylor theories on TikTok and plunged into Taylor’s discography with an eye toward gay themes. For the first time, I listened—really listened—to 2017’s Reputation, an album marketed as Taylor not caring about her press coverage but could just as easily be about a secret queer romance powerful enough to blow up her life. This notion, of hiding in plain sight while inhabiting a straight-presenting persona, resonates deeply for me in queer readings of Taylor’s work.

Here at Camp Gaylore (alternately known as GayloreFest), the analysis is served up with mock-academic gravitas. “We all love to cosplay that we’re professors in this field of Gaylor education,” explains Madyson, 23, a camp co-organizer who hails from New York. To wit, the workshop lineup includes sessions like: “Darling, Everything’s on Fire”: An Exploration of The Hunger Games Through Taylor Swift’s Discography; Unpacking Parasocial Relationships: A Conversation in Favor of Imagination & Community; Friends of Fletcher: Themes in the Music and Visuals of Sapphic Singers & Songwriters; and “Now I’m Your Daisy”: Reimagining The Great Gatsby as Gilded Sapphic Fantasy.

What’s happening here is really nothing new—Gaylors are performing the kind of close reading that happens in pretty much every English lit seminar. For campers like Amanda, 30, a longtime Swiftie who discovered Gaylor theories during the pandemic while awakening to her own queerness, this interpretative exercise is more meaningful than the objective facts of Taylor’s sexuality. “I’m not over here trying to convert people like, ‘Hey, Taylor is gay, and it’s really important to me that you believe that,’” Amanda says. “It’s more about Taylor being this incredible writer who intertwines all these incredible things into her lyrics.”

“We are not the first gaggle of gays to go book a conference center and hang out with each other for a weekend just to talk and gab,” Madyson says. “It just so happens that we all met because Taylor Swift put out some bangin’-ass albums.”

“I don’t even care if she comes out,” Madyson adds. “I actually would prefer she didn’t because I think it’s more fun this way.”

After I check into my single room—a rustic BYO-bed-sheets situation—I return to the common area and settle in for the afternoon’s presentations. Remote presenters will be streaming from all over. A few campers here will be presenting too—streaming from a dedicated quiet room elsewhere on the property. In the common space, all sessions will be projected onto a wall.

And here I have to admit that I end up…not paying much attention to the material. In the best possible way, neither do many of the other campers. I watch as they focus on making friendship bracelets, add artistic flourishes to Gaylor-themed coloring pages, and paint each other’s nails. Chatty groups check in on solo folks: “Are you good by yourself? Would you like to come over here with us?” Sometimes a comfy silence envelops the room. A few campers even nap on couches, the presentation audio forming a sort of pleasant background drone.

This dynamic is striking in its chillness—different from most camps and retreats, where schedules are packed with structured group activities. Kae, a 26-year-old from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, much prefers the format here. Although Gaylor TikTok was helpful in “expediting” her awareness of her own bisexuality, she finds the noise of social media kind of bad for her mental health. Camp Gaylore feels like the 3D version of a friendly Gaylor group chat she joined on WhatsApp a few months ago, she says. “It’s nice, having a much smaller source of information and also a place where you can just be yourself and be accepted.”

Presentation topics aside, Taylor’s aura at camp is surprisingly scarce. The aesthetic is one of nostalgic/analog summer whimsy. Think: String lights and wildflowers. Salt air and disco balls. Strawberries and rainbow balloons. An activity table set up by camp staffers includes a deck of botanical oracle cards, the social-bonding game We’re Not Really Strangers, and a handful of book selections ranging from Emily Dickinson poems to contemporary works by queer authors like adrienne maree brown.

It’s almost as though the organizers plucked a handful of nice humans off the internet and closed tab on literally everything else, a welcome break. Gaylorism in general is Very Online—born on Tumblr, increasingly huge on TikTok. Along with Madyson, camp co-organizer Katie, 30, recently wrapped a popular Gaylor podcast called The Archers, the duo’s contribution to a booming cottage industry of queer-minded Swiftie content. (Madyson has already launched another pod.) Tess, 30, a London-based camp co-organizer, is a prolific Gaylor creator too. This camp is the group’s way of passing the mic to others to invite their perspectives, to “recognize the brilliance and beauty of our community,” as Tess puts it. There’s even been talk of starting a literary-style magazine that goes beyond Taylor and into the open waters of, well, gay lore. That’s why the camp name has an “e” at the end—an indicator of deeper possibilities.

Gaylor subculture has now gotten big enough to attract coverage from major media outlets, some of it less than favorable—a Salon article last fall compared Gaylors to QAnon. Many face harassment from a hostile cohort of Swifties known as Hetlors, notorious for a queerphobic insistence that Taylor is straight. Bullying from Hetlors has driven some Gaylors to go dark and wipe their social accounts, which explains why most here at Camp Gaylore have asked that Cosmo publish their first names only.

Taylor herself is outspoken in her LGBTQ+ advocacy—granted, as more of an ally. “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of,” she told Vogue in 2019. But as many Gaylors like to point out, that’s not quite the same as Taylor declaring she’s 100 percent straight and cisgender either. For now, the details of her identity remain anyone’s guess.

“In a cisheteronormative world, we are more likely to assume people to be cis and straight until told otherwise than to assume they’re trans or queer,” says Melissa A. Fabello, PhD, a sex and relationships educator. Her group coaching session this weekend, titled “The Bisexuality Crisis,” will address this very subject.

Camp Gaylore’s idyllic seaside haven is blessedly Hetlor-free. Madyson, who sometimes struggles to socialize in groups, tells me they feel “soothed” mingling on our private stretch of beach. This weekend has always been more about reinforcing the Gaylorverse than dissecting Taylor’s suspected queerness. “It is very much for people to meet and see each other physically and be like, This community is just as real offline as it is online,” Madyson says. In the sand, they spell out GAYLORE in dozens of tiny seashells.

We head to dinner in the large dining hall for a taco buffet—a communal setup that amuses Nevada. “This is so sweet, like the positive parts of going inpatient at the psych ward,” they joke. Then an earnest elaboration: “It’s just nice that other people understand what I’m thinking. I don’t have to explain a million things. I don’t have to be like, Okay, I guess I’ll let you ignore my pronouns. It’s a very good space.”

Afterward, we gather around an outdoor firepit for s’mores and impromptu performances. One camper breaks out an acoustic guitar and shares songs she wrote during a period of homelessness. Her voice is husky and powerful—a howl of survival. A few campers pass around a bong. Inside jokes are hatched. “As cliché as it sounds, I do feel like I’ve known these people forever,” says Lee, 33, a camper from California who credits Gaylor theories with fueling her lesbian awakening seven years ago. For her, this night is “cathartic.”

In the 10 o’clock hour, everyone heads back inside to watch the livestream of the Eras Tour. This has been a ritual for many of us since Taylor hit the road in March. Lots of campers have been tracking the surprise acoustic songs she performs each night—one or two per show, with no repeats from the pre-Midnights archive unless she messes up.

Tonight, Taylor is in Pittsburgh. One member of the Gaylor community—not at camp with us but someone who’s friends with a few campers—has been publicly campaigning for Taylor to play “ME!” at this stop, a track many Gaylors love (see: the big gay energy of its music video). Taylor playing “ME!” would be everything, a definitive acknowledgement of us.

As the livestream plays, campers string together bead bracelets with Gaylor references—the letters “SITBTTEBM” (“She is the best thing that’s ever been mine”), the phrase “WIDE EYED GAYS” (an intentional misspelling of the “All Too Well” lyric). Then the first surprise song begins: It’s “Mr. Perfectly Fine,” off Fearless. Everyone groans. The second song is a miss too: “The Last Time,” from Red. So much for “ME!”

Everyone is super bummed. A few campers even cry a little bit. But there’s beauty in the heartbreak too—something profound and unifying in our shared disappointment. “Even if Taylor were to go away and never do another thing, I feel like we still have this,” Amanda tells me later. “And that’s really cool.”

The big social event of the weekend, on the second and final night, is prom. Given that it’s being held in the retreat’s tabernacle building, camp staffers have printed out a color picture of Jesus, along with big letters that spell out “LYRICS TOO?”—a cheeky nod to the fact that we’re in a house of worship but mostly a deep-cut Gaylor reference (to something once uttered by Taylor’s pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff). A tattooed camp staffer DJs from a heavily stickered laptop, next to a whirling party light that scatters rainbow beams throughout the space.

Many of our prom looks are encoded with Taylor allusions. One camper wears a tiered, ruffled frock in pastel hues, à la Taylor’s Lover era. Another, channeling the Reputation album art, dons a matching corset and skirt in newsprint-pattern fabric. Still another is turned out in the crochet crop tank Taylor wore while promoting Midnights, its colors a near-perfect match for the lesbian pride flag tacked to one wall.

“Cruel Summer”—a Gaylor fave, theoretically chronicling Taylor’s rumored relationship with supermodel Karlie Kloss—blasts from the speakers. The dance floor fills up. We scream-sing the lines about sneaking in through the garden gate, about the shape of a lover’s body being new. As the song reaches its bridge, our collective joy turns incandescent.

“It felt like 70,000 of us in the room,” Lee marvels the next day as campers pack up to leave. “This was the most magical weekend of my summer—and I’ve been to the Eras Tour twice.”

Frankie de la Cretaz is the co-author of Hail Mary: The Rise and Fall of The National Women's Football League. Their work has been featured in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Rolling Stone, and more.

[saveismyname]

Praying, practicing some strange things, praising a stone statue in a sectarian way was nothing, Shrignold was the only thing that helped him at the end of the day.<br /> However, he was overwhelmingly perfect, so much that it made him realize he would never be able to love someone completely. At least he was the sweetest thing in his own hell.

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Or: A semi-character study that explores objectively ( actually, roughly speaking ) how a relationship between this two would be like from Warren's perspective.

Rating: Teen And Up audiences.

Relationship: Shrignold/Warren The Eagle.

Tags/Things to know before read: inspired Song: lacy (Olivia Rodrigo), Romantic Friendship, Unresolved Sexual And Romantic Tension, Queer Themes, Character Study, One Shot, Anthropomorfic, Warren point of view in third person, The thing about them being teachers is ambiguously confusing, but it's not important at all, mentioned/implied digital time, Larry/lamp being a asshole for like two lines, Shrignold has four arms but i didnt mentioned it never, just referenced at the end.

Warnings: Implied/Reference Drug Use, Warren is disgusting and an asshole.

I forgot to spam myself after post it lmao