#Leading the way in Pre-Engineered Buildings

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[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,818 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: scary imagery, frightening scenarios A/N: This is part of a series! Find the rest on the Master List!

Summary: Escaping from the horde and leaving the ruins of the cabin behind, Daryl and Y/N head down the mountain and then must decide what happens next.

Previous Chapter

You cut the engine of the snowmobile and shut off the lights. The slope of the foothills behind you continued to carry you downwards toward the darker shadows looming, rising up in front of you like a tidal wave. The moon was bright enough to illuminate your way.

You were shivering, almost violently, and Daryl’s arms tightened around you. Your teeth chattered.

“What is it?” Daryl drawled over your shoulder.

“W—we’re almost there. We should f—find somewhere to leave the sled and g—go on foot. I don’t want th—the engine noise or lights to attract the dead or the l—living,” you stuttered. You both squinted ahead at the dark buildings.

“Yer frozen,” he said. The worry weighed heavily in his voice. “We gotta get ya warm and into some dry socks and shoes… Hopefully I can build ya a fire when we find a clear buildin’.”

“I’m—I’m okay,” you managed, though you weren’t sure you believed it. You felt as if you’d been in a daze since you’d woken up and seen the crowd of dead outside the cabin. You still had the fleeting thought that this wasn’t real, that this wasn’t happening, but then the bite of the cold on your cheeks and fingers would reassure you that it was. You were far past feeling anything in your toes, even the painful teeth of the frigid wind.

At last, you stopped the sled at the bottom of the hill and pulled it sideways along a row of brushy shrubs to conceal it. Daryl climbed off immediately and the dogs eagerly jumped out and began nosing around in the snow. Bear let out a few quiet whines, but they showed no sign of alert due to any nearby enemies, dead or living.

You climbed off the seat and staggered on your feet in the deep snow. Daryl’s hands seized your shoulders and steadied you. In the glow of the moon, you could see the frantic turmoil in his blue eyes. “Ya alrigh’?” he drawled softly. He was on edge. You could hear it in the flinty sharpness of his voice.

You gulped and nodded.

Your frozen fingers fumbled with your gear, pulling it clumsily from the snowmobile and shouldering it over the oversize parka you’d pulled on hastily on the mountain. Daryl popped open the storage container and began tugging more bags from inside, shifting them onto his back. Crossbow in hand, he was waiting nearby until you were ready, and then he began to lead the way to the closest building.

The night air was dampened of all sound from the blanket of snow. Somewhere among the buildings you could hear the occasional squeak of metal or bang, perhaps from some infected trapped somewhere, but the street seemed blessedly empty.

You were trying hard to control the violent shivering wracking your body, clenching your teeth and trying to focus on staying alert to the surroundings, but your feet had begun to burn again in your sodden layers. Daryl’s hand drifted along the painted cinderblock as he moved stealthily toward a heavy metal door ahead. You were at the back of some store, though you couldn’t say what it may have been a long time ago. There were no windows and Daryl heaved in a steadying breath when he finally stopped in front of the gray, metal door. He raised the butt of his crossbow and knocked it hard in the center. A hollow reverberation sounded and you could almost feel the vibration in your bones.

Both of you strained your ears in the silence. The dogs stood on either side of you, alert. You waited several long minutes, rigid with anticipation, until finally you wavered on your feet and Daryl almost dropped his bow in his anxiety to steady you again. His brow furrowed deeply. “I think it’s clear, but dun let yer guard down until we know for sure. We gotta check the whole building.” He reached out and tested the handle cautiously. It was loose. He turned it and pushed inside into the darkness, clicking on the light mounted on his bow.

You moved through the building efficiently, searching for any sign or people or infected, but the building was silent with its maze of shelves and newspapered windows. Part of the roof had collapsed at some point and pigeons took off and flew through the hole toward the inky night sky overhead. The dogs gave chase briefly but quickly returned to your sides when they realized the birds were far out of reach.

Daryl was shining his light around what must have been an employee break room at some point. “I think we’re good,” he drawled, heaving a relieved sigh. As if that was all you needed to hear to allow your body to finally give out, you collapsed in a heap on the floor. “Whoa—hey, hey!” Daryl rushed to you. Bear whimpered and licked your cheek. You were breathing hard, clearly exhausted and crashing after the highs of the adrenaline. “Hey—yer alrigh’,” he drawled, kneeling beside you and quickly dumping his gear down on the floor. He cupped your face between his hands and wiped at a spot of blood on your cheek from your fight with the walkers outside the shop. “We’re okay. S’gonna be okay…”

“I c—can’t f—feel my feet,” you said, reaching a still gloved hand toward your sodden feet. The slippers were blocks of ice and so were the socks beneath them.

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “Yeah… uhh—yeah, we need fire. We gotta get ya warm. Lemme—” he glanced back at the hole in the roof, perfect to let the smoke escape. “Okay. I’mma make a fire. Lemme gather up some shit to burn. Just—ya peel off those wet socks and stuff and move your toes and feet, see if ya can warm ‘em a bit with yer hands. If ya gotta, wrap ‘em in yer coat or put your mittens on ‘em.”

You realized for the first time that he barely had any winter gear on either. “W—what ab—bout you?”

He gave you a half-smile. “‘M okay. Haven’t ya noticed ‘m immune to the cold now? It almost had me once, but ain’t gonna happen again.”

His cheeks were red and windburned and you frowned. “It’s n—not a virus. Ya don’t g—get immunity l—like that, Daryl,” you argued. “Ya can’t just—”

He suddenly cupped your face and pressed his lips eagerly to yours. Yours were chilled and tasted slightly salty, like tears, but you kissed him back hungrily, feeling a screaming welling up inside your chest—too close, it was too close, too close, that was all too close… “I’ve got this,” he whispered to you when he pulled back, brushing some strands of your hair that were sticking to your cheeks. “Just rest here and try to unfreeze them toes.” Daryl was here. Daryl was going to make sure you were okay. The scream lessened to a dull roar. You nodded and watched him step away into the darkness to gather dried bits of cardboard and paper and broken pallet wood to build a fire. The glow of his flashlight was a warm torch in the cold darkness.

You sighed and turned your attention back to your frozen feet. Bear laid down against your side, whining slightly. Strider walked calm patrol around you, on alert and staring and sniffing into the darkness.

When you peeled (or cracked may be more accurate) the sodden socks from your feet, the skin on your feet was so white it looked completely drained of all life and you thought that the tips of your toes were slightly blue, but it was difficult to tell in the warm, yellow light of your headlamp. You did as Daryl had instructed and tried to move and wiggle them, mentally trying to summon hot blood back into them. You finally took off your mittens and pulled them on over your feet. Slowly the warmth from your hands began to penetrate the iciness of your skin.

An orange glow flickered to life in the direction Daryl had gone and you watched embers lick up toward the hole in the roof. Daryl reappeared around some shelves and paced over to you. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get ya warmed up.” He glanced at your feet and nodded. “Nice socks.”

“Thanks.” Your shivering and stammer was gone. Being out of the wind of the sled and at least protected from the worst of the descending cold of night seemed to allow your body to make some headway toward warmth again. “It’s a new trend I’m starting.” You noted that his hand was chilled as you accepted it and he pulled you to your feet. Daryl gathered up the gear and hauled it along to the fire. The dogs trotted beside you.

There was already a happy blaze and you sank down beside it and warmed your fingers and feet, sticking them out toward the flickering flames. It wasn’t lost on you that you’d almost died in a fire not 40 minutes ago and now the same thing was perhaps saving your toes. The cabin—gone. It was hard to believe it was gone. Gone like your mom and dad. Gone like Brian. All of your old life was now behind, smoldering on the mountain, perhaps trampled under rotting feet. But you’d made it out. No thanks to your own obstinacy, you’d made it out.

Daryl watched you silently for several long minutes, warming his own body in the glow of heat and throwing on more pallet wood to stoke the fire as needed. Finally, he broke the silence. “Ya okay?” he asked. His voice was thick, worried.

But you looked up at him, your eyes a bit teary and sad at first, and then you smiled. It was small and tired, but it was there. “Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I am. Or I will be… I’m with you. The boys are here,” you said reaching over to pet Strider’s ear. “That’s all that matters.”

He nodded, and a wave crashed over him, nearly dragging him under. He tore his eyes away from you and blinked furiously at the tears burning in them, staring instead at the movement in the coals. “I—I really thought I might lose ya,” he admitted. “That fire—it was spreadin’ so quick. And then the roof fallin’ in—”

You hastily pulled off the puffy coat you still had on and laid it down on the ground next to him before sitting on it, scooting close beside him. You leaned against his side and slipped your arm through his. “Me too,” you said. “But then—I heard your voice on the other side of that wall—and I knew you would get me out. I just knew that you’d do everything you could to get me out. You saved me. Again. I can’t ever repay you for all you’ve done.”

Daryl looked over at you in surprise. “Repay me?” His blue eyes flickered between yours again, but you were relieved to see that they were less turbulent. “Ya dun owe me a damn thing.” He leaned in toward you then and kissed your cheek, but it was soft and lingering and it warmed you even better than the fire did.

You laid down close to the fire, tucked against each other that night. Daryl’s arm looped over you protectively. You felt the crash coming hard from the waning of your adrenaline, the terror of your ordeal. “What do we do next?”

Daryl was almost afraid to ask the question, but he did. Part of him still didn’t believe that someone as good as you could come to him and then stay… “Will ya come with me? Back to Alexandria?”

You turned over beneath his arm and leaned up on your forearm, your eyes flickering between his, seeing his fear and his nervousness. “Of course, I will. And not just because of what happened tonight. I—I would have made the same decision if the cabin and everything was still there. I don’t—I don’t want to be parted from you.” You pressed your hand flush to the center of his chest when you said it and Daryl felt a surge of relief and happiness and hope and—

He smiled at you. Just a small one, but it touched the corners of his eyes. “Everybody back home is gonna love ya. Just wait. Ya got a ready-made family waitin’ for ya back there.”

“Waiting for us,” you corrected him.

He nudged his nose up in a nod, that signature Daryl move. “Right. Us. Tomorrow, we’ll see if my bike is still where I left it months ago when I rolled into town—see if it’ll still run. If it ain’t, we’ll figure somethin’ else out. A car… somethin’. Or take the sled as far as we can. And we head home.”

You nodded, thoughtfully biting your bottom lip. “It’s a long fucking way. Do you really think we can make it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I know we can. The two of us together? Are ya kiddin’ me? Ain’t shit standin’ in our way.”

You let out a small laugh at that and then leaned forward and kissed him softly. His hand landed lightly on your neck. Then, exhaustion was winning and you lay down, tucked in against his chest, his arm draping over you again.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Three Months Later “Hey—hey!” Glenn shouted down to Rosita who was standing by the gate. “Did anybody go out today on a run?” he asked, glancing back up to stare down the street in the distance.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Why?” Before he could answer, she looked out through the gate and saw the approaching truck too. She hurried to climb the ladder and stood beside Glenn on the guard platform. He had dug out the binoculars and raised them to his eyes.

There was a long silence where he just seemed to be staring, fixedly, at the approaching vehicle.

“What? What is it?” Rosita urged. The truck was still too far away for her to see much with no scope to aid her.

Glenn lowered the binoculars and looked over at her, his eyes a little wide. “Go get Rick—everybody, go get everybody!” he said, almost in a daze.

“What is going on?” she urged him. That’s when his face finally cracked into a wide smile, his eyes a little teary.

“There’s a bike in the back,” he said.

She knew what that meant. “Is it—? Can you see him? Are you sure?” she asked desperately.

Glenn nodded. “Yeah. It’s him. Go get everyone! Hurry!”

In the truck, Daryl glanced over at you in the passenger seat beside him. “Are ya ready for this?” he asked.

You shook your head and shrugged. “I—I dunno. It’s a lot of people,” you laughed. “But I’m—I can’t wait to meet them. Nervous though…” you added. Bear stood, sensing the end of the journey somehow and tapping his paws excitedly on the back seat, giving a big stretch and a loud yawn and whine. Looking ahead you could see the gate, just as he’d described it, and the sign posted on the wall: Alexandria Safe Zone. Mercy for the Lost. Vengeance for the Plunderers.

Daryl’s hand landed over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. “They’re gonna love ya. Ya ain’t got any reason to be nervous. I know it.”

The brakes squealed as the truck came to a stop in front of the gate. Daryl flashed the lights three times, the old signal they’d always used that the coast was clear to open it. He nudged his head toward his door and you nodded. You both climbed out, the dogs jumping out after you, climbing over the center console to get outside. As the metal gate rattled, drawn back by someone you couldn’t yet see. It rolled to the side to reveal a small crowd gathering. More people were rushing up the street to join them. You met Daryl’s eyes again as he stepped around his door and gave you a warm smile. Home. He was happy to be home. And you were with him. You’d made it.

Daryl shut his door and strode forward. You stopped by the front of the truck, hanging back a little awkwardly. “Stay, boys,” you murmured to the dogs. They heeled on either side of you, but Strider was wagging his tail and Bear was whining a little, looking ahead at all the people.

“Move! Watch out,” a voice rose from the crowd and a woman with short silver hair burst through. A huge grin spread on her face when she saw him walking toward the gate. Carol. It must be Carol. She rushed to him and threw her arms around him in a huge hug, then pulled back to clasp his face between her hands before hugging him again, a teary, broad smile on her face, her eyes squeezed shut. Daryl hugged her back, but looked up as the crowd parted and a lean man with curly hair broke through with a little girl in his arms at a light jog.

“Maggie, would you hold her?” Rick murmured, almost not believing his eyes as he glanced back up at Daryl standing there, Carol now at his side. Maggie, happy tears on her cheeks already, held Judith. Rick’s eyes flickered over to you briefly but then landed back on Daryl again. His expression was almost disbelief at first and then it melted into emotion he was trying hard to hold back. He walked right up to Daryl and gripped his shoulder hard, looking him square in the eye and nodding, gulping emotion back. “Where the hell have you been?” he drawled, his face finally breaking into a smile touched with tears, and he pulled Daryl into a hug, clasping the back of his neck. “God, it’s good to see you brother.”

You bit your bottom lip, choking back your own emotion at the reunion, and feeling like you were intruding on something. After Daryl broke from Rick, he was quickly surrounded as his family came one by one to welcome him home—Michonne clasped his face and kissed his cheek, Eric and Aaron hugged him with broad smiles and pats on the back, Glenn gave him a hasty hug, Maggie pressed her palm gently to his cheek and Daryl stroked Judith’s soft blond hair. He was chewing on his bottom lip hard, trying to stop himself from completely going to pieces. Carol and Rick never left his side, but after a few minutes the rest of the Alexandrians who weren’t part of Daryl’s core group wandered away with plenty to talk about. Who was that standing there with the two dogs? Do you think its Brian’s sister? Did he really find her? He can’t have made it all the way to Montana and back!

Finally, he was able to gather himself and looked back at you still standing by the car, running your fingers through Bear’s thick fur nervously, biting your bottom lip. He cleared his throat and caught Rick’s eyes again. “Rick—uhh, everybody… This is Y/N. She’s—she’s Brian’s twin sister. And that’s Bear and Strider,” he said, pacing over to pat the big lab on his head and tousle his ears around.

For a moment everyone just stared at you, mostly good-natured looks on their faces, sure, but also some pity and grief and curiosity and wariness mixed in. Daryl met your eyes and gave a questioning look to ask non-verbally, are you okay? You nodded and managed a tight smile to tell him you were, though your nerves were fizzing.

“Well, what the hell are we standing around out here for?” Carol said finally, grinning again. “Come inside!”

There was some laughter and they all moved back in past the gate.

“I’mma drive the truck in, alrigh’?” Daryl said to Rick, who gave you another appraising look and then nodded. “See ya at the house in a few.”

Carol came and gave his arm a gentle touch. “We missed you,” she said. “See you in a minute.” She glanced at you and gave you a tight smile which you did your best to return, though you were so overwhelmed and nervous you weren’t sure it came off.

“C’mon,” Daryl said, nudging his head back toward the truck. He whistled and opened the passenger side door for you and the dogs. They bounded right back in and you slid in past him. The door shut with a snap and you realized you’d been holding your breath.

Daryl climbed in behind the steering wheel again and started the engine. “Ya okay?” he asked, shifting into drive.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just—a bit overwhelmed is all.”

He nodded. “Well, ya’d been alone up there a long time. I know this is a lot. Ya want me to tell everybody ya just need some space for tonight?”

“What? No! No, I want to meet everyone,” you argued. “I do. I just need to remember to breathe,” you said with a laugh.

He nodded and his eyes flickered over your face. “I’ll be right by ya the whole time.”

“I know,” you nodded.

“And if ya do need a break, they’ll all understand.”

“I’m good,” you said.

It was a quick drive to park in front of the group’s two houses. Maggie and Glenn were waiting outside when you pulled up, and you saw Rick on the porch, though he stepped back inside as you all were climbing out.

“Is this the same bike?” Glenn asked Daryl, looking at the motorcycle in the bed of the truck.

“More or less,” he drawled. “Lots of parts went to shit on the road and had to be patched up or replaced, but most of it made it.”

Maggie was grinning as the dogs ran to greet her and she bent down to let them lick her face and to give them lots of scratches and pets. “They’re adorable,” she said.

“I tell them all the time,” you said.

“We always had dogs on the farm,” she said, scratching under Bear’s chin. The next moment she stood up and pulled you into a gentle hug. You expected her to break from you quickly, but she didn’t. She really hugged you for a long moment, and you hugged her back through your surprise. “I’m so glad you’re here. We all are,” she said. Her southern drawl was sweet and warm. “We—we all loved Brian so much.” Tears bit her vision as she said it.

You nodded and swallowed at the lump in your throat. “I know you did. Thank you for that. Daryl’s told me so much about all of you and—and I’m so grateful to be here.”

“Well, let’s get you and these cute dogs inside. We don’t need to stand out here all night. Come on in and have something to eat and drink,” she said.

You glanced back at Daryl where he was talking with Glenn still and he started after you and Maggie up the porch steps and into the warm light.

Everyone was crowded around in the kitchen after you and Daryl had time to clean up and get some food and water into you. Now there was wine being passed around and the atmosphere seemed suddenly charged as a natural lull fell in all the conversation. You and Daryl looked up and met each other’s eyes at the same time.

“Well?” Carol snapped suddenly. “Tell us everything!” she laughed. “You’ve kept us waiting long enough!” The tension seemed to break and many of Daryl’s family laughed.

He let out a gruff laugh too. “I think both of us are a little too tired for everythin’ tonight,” he said. “But we can give ya a few bits from the journey back.” He glanced over at you beside him and you nodded. “We hit a blizzard in Wyoming. Literally couldn’t see yer damn hand in front of yer face. Got snowed in for six days.”

“Daryl killed his first elk in Wyoming too,” you added with a proud smile.

“We were ambushed by hunters in South Dakota. Was a bit touchy and go but we got the best of ‘em,” he went on. “Most of Iowa was a wasteland. We dropped south to avoid the Chicago metro area, but we still saw some of the biggest hordes I’ve ever seen. Had a car wreck in Indiana and then got attacked by some group of assholes—” He almost reached for your hand at that moment. It had been one of the most terrifying, lowest points of the journey back. He could still see the gash you’d gotten on your head and the cut on your neck healing. “Uhh,” he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck instead of reaching for you. “After that, a lot of the roads were fucked or camped on by groups who didn’t look too friendly. We ended up going way south to Kentucky and trying to stay off the main roads after that…”

“Flooding in West Virginia,” you added. “We had to go way around.”

“Yeah. And then—somehow, we got back here.”

The silence settled thickly again until Tara suddenly raised a glass, a welcoming smile on her face. “To family, new and old,” she said.

“To family,” Rick echoed, giving the first wide smile you’d really seem him break into all night.

Carol raised her glass and cleared her throat. “May we look forward with hope and backward without regret,” she said.

“Hear, hear!” Abraham exclaimed, hugging an arm more tightly around Rosita.

Everyone drank, and you felt full in a way that had nothing to do with the good meal and everything to do with the warmth, safety, and welcoming company. When you glanced at Daryl at your side, his eyes were already on you.

The evening wore on and some people drifted away to bed little by little, but many of you were still gathered in the cozy space of the living room.

Daryl had stepped outside for some air and not long after Rick stepped out onto the porch and came to stand beside him, gripping his shoulder briefly and giving him a classic Rick Grimes smile. He glanced back in through the illuminated window at you sitting with Maggie and Glenn on the couch. Bear was curled up at your feet on the floor, content to snooze. Strider was hamming it up getting belly scratches from Carl and Abraham, thoroughly enjoying all the attention. Carol was cuddling Judith and seemed to be watching you closely, but not in a suspicious way—just taking you in. It wasn’t lost on anyone how you and Daryl seemed to relate to each other, his regard for you and yours for him, how he hadn’t left your side all night, the clear chemistry though no one had seen any sort of touch pass between you. “So, am I wrong or did you find more than just Brian’s sister in Montana?”

Daryl scruffed a hand through his long hair and nodded once. “Yeah… more than I bargained for, tha’s for damn sure,” he said, turning to look in at you and the warm scene with his family gathered around. He leaned back on the railing and drew in a deep breath of the cool spring air. “She saved my life,” he drawled. “I think in more than one way.”

Rick smiled. “I have a feeling you’ve done the same for her. She was up there all alone?” he asked. Daryl nodded.

“Yeah. And not just survivin’, but almost thrivin’ up there in a lotta ways. I know she left a piece of her heart back in them mountains. S’gonna be an adjustment here for sure…”

Rick nodded. “Well, it was for all of us. You especially,” he pointed out. “As for that piece of her heart, I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to help her with that too. Give her a new one.” He sighed again. “It’s good to have you home, brother. We never gave up hope but we were worried—we were starting to think maybe you wouldn’t be coming back to us.”

He ducked his head and nodded. “Yeah… It was a long haul. Twice,” he said with a wry laugh.

“But worth it?” Rick asked.

Daryl looked up at you through the window again. You were bathed in a golden glow and surrounded by other people he loved. It was better than he ever thought he’d have, even before everything went to shit. “Hell yeah.”

Rick laughed happily. “Now, one more thing… You aren’t takin’ her down to sleep in the basement, are you?” Rick asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, an amused look on his face.

Daryl scoffed. “The hell is wrong with my room in the basement?”

“Well, there’s a washer and dryer in it for starters. Second, it’s a basement,” Rick teased him. “Seems like you aren’t a bachelor anymore, Daryl. Take one of the rooms upstairs. We’ve got spares.”

Daryl sighed. “We can—figure that all out tomorrow. I was thinkin’—maybe she and I would just get a place…” Rick smiled at this. “For tonight, we just wanna crash. We’ve been livin’ on the road so long now, few months. Ain’t been stayin’ in the same place more than a couple days at a time, ya know? Will be nice to put down roots again.”

Rick’s eyes were crinkled in a smile. “Can’t wait to see what grows.”

“Me either.”

Daryl followed Rick back in, and you looked up and gave him a tired smile as he came in, trying to blink the waiting sleep from your eyes.

“Whatcha think?” he drawled, leaning forward on his hands on the back of the couch just behind you.

“I’m exhausted,” you laughed.

“Yeah, me too,” he mused, looking around at his remaining family. Judith had fallen asleep in Carol’s arms and everyone was cooing at her. “C’mon,” he said, nudging his nose up. “Let’s slip away while we can.”

You happily agreed and jumped the back of the couch, but your sneaky exit was immediately ruined by the dogs needing to follow. Hoots and hollers rose behind you but the two of you hurried out anyway, calling back only a few goodnights. Daryl grabbed your hand and led you toward the stairs. “We can crash in my old space tonight.” He could hear Rick in his head. “Uhh—but it ain’t much… s’just a mattress in the basement mostly,” he drawled.

“Better than we’ve had for a while. And as long as you’re there, I don’t care if it’s a moldy carpet on the floor,” you said.

Daryl snorted and looked down at you. “Moldy? Really?”

“Daryl, I’m so exhausted I could fall asleep standing up right now,” you said, yawning as soon as the words left your mouth.

“Well, ya dun have to do that,” he said. “C’mon. We can both get some deep sleep tonight… It’s safe here. Safest place I’ve ever had… ‘cept maybe for that cabin of yours.”

“More,” you said. “My cabin didn’t have big ass walls all around it.”

“This way,” he drawled, still holding your hand, fingers laced with yours. You followed him down the staircase and into a dim room. It looked like any normal basement; a washer and dryer on one wall, random boxes and storage. But there in one corner was a mattress, neatly made and piled with blankets and pillows. He patted a hand down on them expecting to see a puff of dust, but none arose. “Huh. Somebody musta made the bed up fresh while we were getting cleaned up.”

“My money is on Maggie,” you said, collapsing down onto the blankets and sinking in. “I like her,” you said, before another yawn interrupted you. The dogs settled on the rug.

“I like you,” he said, climbing toward you and caging you beneath his body. He stroked your hair away from your forehead and your eyes shut at his touch. “Maybe a bit too much…” he drawled, smiling. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, and then your lips. You were already drifting toward sleep.

“Too much? Not possible. And only like?” you smiled, opening your eyes again.

He gave you a look and you laughed. “Ya know—ya know I love ya,” he said. He still sounded somewhat shy when he said it… like he couldn’t believe he got to say it at all.

You gave him a sleepy smile. “I love you, too. And I’ll live down here in the spider webby basement or sleep on a moldy rug if I have to…”

He laughed and leaned in to tuck his face against the crook of your neck and breathe in your smell, his body now flush to yours. “Nah. We’re gonna build our own space together. You’ll see. But for now—my bachelor bed is the best I’ve got for tonight.” He lay down beside you and tugged you in against his body, much the same way he had by the fire that night when you’d escaped the flames and the horde. Your breathing was soon soft and deep.

“G’night,” you sighed, snuggling in, already falling into a warm, contented sleep you hadn’t had since long before, back in the cabin after you and Daryl had finally become something more.

“Night,” he breathed. Just before he fell asleep, he sent a thought to Brian, up into the ether, to tell him that he’d done as he’d promised, that you were here and you were safe, and he was going to make sure he protected you with his life… but better yet, that he’d build a life with you that he never thought he could have. I promise. I’ll do right by her. I swear on my life.

The End.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it. I can’t wait to embark on a new series in the near future, and I have a lot of waiting one shots I have been holding off on until this was finished. And here we are! Bittersweet, it is. 

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 2

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I’ve read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is my second queer sci-fi book rec post. For queer sci-fi part 1, click here!

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend”, word of god, and a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone

Vivian Liao is a highly successful innovator, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew and fears the government may be coming for her. As she goes into hiding, she attempts to pull off one last stunt that could fix everything - but something goes wrong, and suddenly Vivian finds herself waking up in the far future, under attack by an army of robots in space. Hoping to find her way back home, Vivian must assemble a crew of dangerous outlaws to help her hunt down the Empress of Forever, the all-powerful entity who pulled her into the future. Lesbian main character.

The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older

Novella. On the outpost of a human colony by Jupiter, a man has gone missing. On the case to find him - and figure out why he disappeared in the first place - is enigmatic investigator Mossa. Her search leads her to the colony's university, and with it, her ex-girlfriend Pleiti, expert on Earth's pre-collapse ecosystem. Together they come to realize that the case is much larger than just a missing man, and could decide the outcome of humanity's very future. Sapphic.

My Heart is Human by Reese Hogan

Nine years ago, all complex technology was made illegal. This complicates life for Joel, young transgender single father, as a bionic just uploaded itself into his brain without consent. Scared of losing his daughter, Joel tries to keep the bionic secret while using it to fix his life, but things quickly get more complicated as the bionic gains more and more control of his body. A bit simplistic in writing style but makes a lot of cool parallels of bodily autonomy to Joel’s experiences as a transman. M/M romance.

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez*

A strange child lands on an isolated planet, scaring its inhabitants into handing him over into the hands of Nia Amani. As captain of a transport ship, Nia is not only the planet's only contact with the outside world, she is also a woman out of time, years compressing into months as she travels through space at high speeds. Now responsible for a child who doesn't speak and in a galaxy that wishes them ill, she must rethink exactly what she wants to do with her life, and what she's prepared to give up. Features multiple major queer characters.

The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us duology) by Emily Skrutskie

Young Adult. Tumblr classic back in the day! Cassandra Leung's family are keepers of sea monsters, genetically engineered and trained to protect ships from pirates. On her first solo mission, Cas finds herself kidnapped by pirates seeking to obtain their own monster. Now they need her help to train it. As Cas seeks to regain her freedom, she must also reckon with unfortunate growing feelings for one of the pirates keeping her under guard. Sapphic.

Ancestral Night (White space series) by Elizabeth Bear

Haimey Dz is part of a three-man salvage crew in space (one of the crew being the sentient spaceship himself). When the small crew comes across a derelict ship that proves the scene of a horrible crime, they must go on the run as they seek to uncover a conspiracy that involves both ancient secrets older than humanity itself, and Haimey's own hidden past. On their tail is a dangerous space pirate, convinced that Haimey is the key to it all. Lesbian main character.

Ancillary Justice (Imperial Radch) by Ann Leckie*

A space opera in which sentient spaceships can walk the ground in stolen human bodies, so called ancillaries. One of these ancillaries, the sole survivor after the complete destruction of her ship and crew, is one the hunt for revenge against the most powerful woman in the empire. This series does very cool things with gender!

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

Five New Yorkers find themselves experiencing strangness as the city itself begins to wake up. They are its soul, its avatars and its protectors, and now they must keep it safe as it wakes as something alien and monstrous attempts to kill it before it's even fully alive. Mix of sci-fi, supernatural, and lovecraftian horror. Multiple pov characters of varying queer identities.

Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb series) by Tamsyn Muir*

Gideon, raised as a swordswoman by unfriendly nuns, would rather run away and make her own life, but her services are needed. The Reverend Daughter, Gideon's childhood nemesis, has been invited to a trial to win a place as an immortal by the Emperor's side, and she's in need of a bodyguard. Listen, if you’re on tumblr I probably don’t need to explain this book to you. Trust me when I say it’s exactly as good as people claim. Humorous and spooky but also absolutely gut wrenching and clever with a lot of political commentary. There are also, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe (Salvagers trilogy) by Alechia Dow

In a universe run on science and magic working hand in hand, Boots Elsworth makes a living selling fake treasure maps and Nilah Brio is a racer. When one of Boots' maps turns out to be more real than expected and Nilah has to go on the run after having been framed for a murder, the two find themselves on the same spaceship, working with Boots' old captain to find the rumored treasure and reveal the conspiracy its hiding before the people hunting them catch up. Features a main f/f relationship.

The Company of Death by Elisa Hansen*

A wild mix of genres, where a zombie apocalypse has struck and vampires gather up humans to keep their food source from going extinct, a robot travels across America with a young man she’s tasked to keep safe, and former-vampire-hunter-recent-zombie Emily teams up with Death himself to stop the apocalypse. Features bi and ace characters! Bonus rec: the author also runs the youtube channel Maven of the Eventide, where she talks about various vampire media. Check it out!

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

Shizuka Satomi is a violin master who made a deal with a devil, and who must now save her soul by delivering the souls of her students in place of her own. Lan Tran is a mother and a refugee of an alien war, hiding on Earth with her children in a donut shop. Katrina Nguyen is a trangender runaway and violin player, in the need of a mentor. As their paths cross, their lives change forever. I would categorize this as cozy, however it does also deal with some pretty heavy themes.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die. While the main relationship is m/f, it features a worldbuilding where bisexuality is the norm, which is portrayed in its major characters.

The Gilded Abyss by Rebecca Thorne

Nix Marr is a soldier and damned good at it, but that doesn't prepare her for her next mission: bodyguard for Subarch Kessandra, beloved royal and Nix's bitter ex, as she ventures into the underwater city of Fall to seek the cause of a bloody murder spree and a possible deadly contagion. But Kessandra has enemies, the answers she seeks marking her as a possible threat for the nation's rulers. On their way in an isolated and enclosed underwater ship toward Fall, the contagion catches up, and Nix will have to put her hurt feelings aside if the two are to arrive alive. Sci-fi with flavors of horror and the supernatural.

Adaptation (Adaptation duology) by Malinda Lo

Young adult. Strangeness is afoot: all over America, birds are hurling themselves against airplanes and causing crashes. As flights are canceled and travelers stranded, Reese and her debate partner and longtime crush David are forced to head home by car. Accident strikes, and the two wake in a military hospital with no memory of the last month. Returning home, strangeness follows the two, especially as Reese encounters the mysterious and beautiful Amber Gray, who may know more than she lets on. Features a bisexual love triangle.

Lizard Radio by Pat Schmatz

Young adult. Fifteen-year-old Kivali, abandoned at birth and adopted by the nonconformist artist Sheila, has as a girl in boys clothes never fit in with the other kids. Sheila has always been supportive, until she one day sends Kivali off to CropCamp. While Kivali chafes at the strict rules of the camp, she also finds herself making friends, and maybe more, for the first time. Strange coming of age story, featuring exploration of gender and sexuality in a dystopian setting.

Isle of Broken Years by Jane Fletcher

Young spanish noblewoman Catalina thinks she’s done for when the ship she’s traveling on is attacked by pirates and she’s captured. Things gets worse when the entire crew is stranded on an inhospitable island where time works strangely, dangerous monsters terrorize the woods and something alien stops them from leaving. Strong Lost vibes. Lesbian romance. Admittedly quite indulgent but very fun and creative.

All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries) by Marta Wells*

After having hacked its own governor module, SecUnit uses its small amount of new freedom to secretly download and watch as much media as it can between doing its job guarding humans. But when the scientists it’s been charged with keeping safe come under attack, it must make a choice about whether to continue keeping its freedom secret or risk it all to save them. The series features both novellas and full length novels, and balances humor with scathing critique of capitalism. While it can be debated whether SecUnit counts as agender, asexual and aromantic, as it is a robot (I leave this up to individual judgmenet), however the series also has a diverse cast overall.

The Quiet at the End of the World by Lauren James*

Young adult. After the spread of a global virus causing infertility, teenagers Lowrie and Shen are now the youngest humans alive as the adults around them race to find a cure. As they investigate the ruins of the world, the two come across records from the past, of how grief stricken people turned to raising artificial children in apps and how these 'children’ developed, and through these records the two learn of their history. Bisexual main character.

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara “Hurricane Staxxx” Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future. Sapphic.

The Disasters by M.K. England

A decade ago, the massive ship House of Wisdom was abandoned in orbit after its entire crew was killed in an outbreak in a matter of hours. Now, Zahra and her people hope to claim the ship as their own by kidnapping the sole survivor to gain access to its systems. But the danger of the House of Wisdom is far from gone. Horror, no major romance but has a major gay character.

Nax Hall may be a hotshot pilot, but that doesn't stop him from being expelled from the prestigious Ellis Station Academy in less than 24 hours. But as he's to be transported back to Earth alongside other failed students, the school is viciously attacked. Nax and the three other students only barely escape, and are left as the only witnesses - and the perfect scapegoats. Now they must go on the run together and find a way to clear their names. Bisexual main character.

Dust (Jacob's Ladder series) by Elizabeth Bear

In a dying spaceship, orbiting an equally dying sun, noblewoman Perceval waits for her own gruesome death. Having been captured by an opposing house, her wings severed and life forfeit, Perceval’s execution is imminent - until a young servant charged with her care proves to be Perceval’s long lost sister. To stop a war between houses likely to doom them all, the two flee together across a crumbling, dangerous spaceship. At its core waits Jacob Dust, god and angel, all that remains of what the ship once was. And he wants Perceval. Sapphic and asexual characters, however be prepared for kinda fucked up relationships.

Under Fortunate Stars by Ren Hutchings

Two ships have gotten stuck in a rift in space, isolated outside of time. One of them is the Jonah, a ship dodging a generations long war against an alien species, carrying a small crew of smugglers, an unintended passenger, and a hijacker. The other ship is the Gallion, which arrived from 150 years in the future carrying an alien ambassador - and whose crew is awestruck at meeting the heroes of the Jonah, known to have ended the war. As the two crews struggle to understand each other's timelines, they must also work together to leave the rift before they're stranded forever. Multiple queer characters, however the main romance plotlines are m/f.

One Last Stop by Casey McQiston*

Twenty-three-year-old August has a lot to deal with. She just moved to New York, got new job at a pancake diner, and acquired several slightly chaotic roommates. So what if she likes to flirt with the pretty girl on her subway commute? But Jane turns out to be more than just a charming stranger: she's lost in time, displaced from the 70s, and unable to leave the subway. Romance with a dash of timetravel sci-fi, One Last Stop is a delightful story of love and queer community.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine’s mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

Salvation Day by Kali Wallace

A decade ago, the massive ship House of Wisdom was abandoned in orbit after its entire crew was killed in an outbreak in a matter of hours. Now, Zahra and her people hope to claim the ship as their own by kidnapping the sole survivor to gain access. But the danger of the House of Wisdom is far from gone. Horror, no major romance but has a major gay character.

Alien: Echo by Mira Grant

Young adult. Twin sisters Olivia and Viola's parents are both xenobiologists, bringing them all over the galaxy. Most recently they’ve settled on a new colony world to study its life, but it proves more dangerous than they could’ve ever imagined. Under attack from alien monsters, the sisters must keep each pther alive while also coming to terms with a dark family secret. Sapphic horror. Part of the Alien franchise but stands well on its own.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

Part 4 - A Big Daddy Elvis Fanfiction

Previous chapter link for context, picking up where we left off

I owe so much thanks to my friends for all their help and input and the joy they bring me, thanks to them and my precious followers this fluffy/wacky little universe even exists. I’ve never had so much fun on a collaboration before in my life, I love y’all so.

Warnings: 18+, sexual content and heavy themes… ok so this is smutty and fluffy, right? But still there are some things that might be offensive regarding narrator’s voice so I want to warn about those and distinguish them from my own opinions. For much of this part we are in Elvis’ head and, due to it being summer of ‘77 -it’s a bit of a rollercoaster in there. Please be warned there are throwaway lines reflecting poor self esteem, depression, misogyny, severe health issues and the use of the word fat to describe oneself negatively.

Enjoy

💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄

Elvis feels a pang of sympathy for his boys’ hysteria when he runs into a crowd of fans as he himself sits panicked in the Stutz, engine off and his shades on, watching Gigi check that the coast is clear on the sidewalk and buzz into her apartment building -in just his jacket and panties. Her sandals are gone somewhere, too, probably back at Graceland. Only that anklet left on like some harem jangle.

Her sooties must be burning on the sunbaked concrete, maybe that’s why she’s skipping everywhere she goes like a damn foal. His blood pressure feels like it’s skyrocketing just watching this show and the fact she looks like she’s in her element terrifies and excites him and -getting to know Gigi is a dangerous hobby.

As shameless as a toddler that one, and every bit as unpersuaded about needing to give a shit about things like flashing her butt cheeks for all of Memphis.

Her tanned butt cheeks.

Which brings up all sorts of questions he’s too scared to ask and will have to address with Tammy. He’s sure she’s to blame for nude sunbathing, he just hopes that wildcat has enough decency to do it privately. Very privately. Hopefully in a bullet proof bunker if Gigi is with her. This girl has been directionless and fatherless for too long; Elvis’ mouth dries out in anticipation of being that guiding, molding, firm hand in her life -the rest of his body too sedated to respond normally although he feels that weird ass dribble his pecker has recently started to do when it’s very much willing but can’t physically swell to poke a gal. He thoroughly regrets not wearing underpants to catch some of this… horny… pre-cum…incontinence…the baby blue of his tracksuit showing a small stain on his leg. Just the size of a penny. Maybe a quarter.

He takes his glasses off and rubs at his sweaty eyes.

Gigi is standing in the opened doorway, waving him in with a huge, expectant smile on her face, and feeling something he hasn’t felt since 1955 sneakin’ into Barbra’s room, he lumbers out his side of the car and doesn’t even bother to make sure no one’s looking, even though she whipped her head around to clock their surroundings like top paid security for his sake. If someone sees and thinks he’s going into a college girl’s dorm to corrupt her then they’d be right, and it'll make far prettier gossip than what’s coming out in Red’s book next month.

He slips past her and she runs her hand along his chest as he goes by, giddy and fond. She waves to someone behind his back,

“Hey Paolo! Good afternoon!” Elvis turns just in time to see an old shriveled man in an undershirt waving wildly at her as the door shuts.

“Who’s that?”

“Our repairman. Sweetest little man.” Gigi gushes and Elvis motions for her to lead the way up the stairs while speculating with nauseating surety on what Gigi might be found wearing -or not wearing- when dear sweet shriveled perverted Paolo makes up a problem with her sink and comes into her apartment. “He’s taught me how to make Limoncello jello! You won’t find anything more refreshing!”

“How very epicurean for a regular, ole handyman.” he can’t help but grumble, usually highly self-aware and unbiased for the potential learnedness of common folks. He knows he’s one. But right now he wants to make a carpet from Paolo’s nose hair.

“What does epicurean mean?” Gigi doens’t without missing a beat as she unlocks her own front door.

Now they’re back on solid, Elvis-worthy ground, he can smile indulgently as he enters her space and explain, “Somebody who likes to in-duuulge in the luxurious and the sensuuaal, it was a whole philosophy.”

“Oooh, that explains why I didn’t understand.” she giggles, “I’ve flunked philosophy twice and I’ve got a whole pile of papers over there that’s supposed to be homework but a hero of mine invited me to go swimming at his place so, there they sit!” she shows off a rather alarming stack of papers next to the poorly made up bed, half hidden by the swim suits and cut offs strewn about the carpet. “Sorry for the mess, a lotta the girls got ready over here and wrecked it. Half of it is mine though, you should’ve seen the things they suggested I wear for you! Thongs, Elvis! Actual thongs! And here I was unsure if you felt just fatherly towards me or what so I- I didn’t wear a thong.”

Elvis takes a seat on her bed since he figures they’re now past being modest about what they’re gonna do and asks, “What’s a thong?”

“You don’t- it’s this sorta thing.” Gigi is a little shocked that this man of the world doesn't know such a thing and spins around a few times before finding a very small scrap of fabric and bending over, she picks it up. Elvis forgets what she was getting off the floor for a few minutes before she starts spreading the fabric strings apart and pronouncing, “This is a thong!”

Elvis squints his eyes as if trying to see a ship on the edge of the horizon or something, “I don’t get it.” he says at last, “How’s it work? Go around your neck?”

“No, silly!” she giggles even harder in shocked exasperation, “It’s panties.”

“No way in hell.” he sounds awed, “No way, how in tarnation does that work?”

“They’re like…very little, small, tiny panties!” she explains with a hyped tone as if the more enthusiastic she is the quicker he’ll get the mechanism.

“That -those ain’t gonna hold or cover nothin’.” he insists, “Now you’re the one pullin’ my leg.” he notices there’s a magazine with his face on it stashed under the teetering bedside lamp and makes mental note of that before leaning back against her massive stuffed bear.

“They’re not supposed to work, they’re supposed to be sexy?” she tries again before playfully putting them on her head and striking a pose.

“Sexy, hmm?” he rumbles, his eyes twinkling and she knows she’s got his interest at least, whether he’s fibbing ignorance on knowing about thongs or not, she can’t tell. Suddenly it strikes her that Elvis Presley himself is lounging on her bed, leaned against the stuffy she grinds herself on to the thought of him pretty regularly. Suddenly having his jacket zipped at all feels oppressive from the rush of heat that sight floods her with.

“If they were for comfort we’d just go without.” she laughs, “They dig up into your…” she looks about before dropping her voice and taking a couple steps closer to him, “butt crack.” she blushes furiously at having to name it and his fingers itch to do unspeakable things to this little girl.

“Show me.” he says, low and steady and a little removed, just cool enough to be commanding, just warm enough to make her feel (very) admired. He sees her sweet blush turn into droopy lidded arousal before his very eyes and with meek acceptance she hooks her fingers into her swim bottoms without a pause.

They drop to the floor in a nylon puddle between her legs. Just like that. Simple as that, her bare little pussy lips are peaking out from his jacket at him and she smiles gently at his shock as she hooks her legs through the thong’s leg holes and shimmy’s the stupid excuse for lingerie up her stems. “It’s just you, daddy.” she explains in a confidential whisper that melts his heart.

“Yeah, jus’ f’me, baby girl.” he makes a pronouncement of his own, hushed and boyish and her own heart feels too big for her chest at the way his blue eyes somehow soften in wonder at her exposed self. She had expected something rougher, ravenous, impetuous. Not this revenant appreciation that bends his whole frame towards her with open mouthed puffs of longing. He aches, wishing he’d brought his Polaroid to snap this memory forever, add it to his collection. A little something tangible he could thumb at it in the future and remember this night when an terribly hot, painfully young, big tittied woman had wanted him.

“Will ya do a lil spin f’me? Wouldn’t want that wedgie to go unappreciated, now would we? So sweet to try it on for me.” he coos and then hums deep and appreciative as she does a couple slow spins for him, that humm she’s only ever heard in amplified concert footage sending sparks to her very toes.

“You like them?” she asks, toes curling in nervousness for his verdict.

He lounges back and strokes his mouth a few times while cocking his head to the side. She’s breathing so heavy he thinks if he even blew on her she’d come. “They’re practical.” he decides definitively.

“Are they?” she sighs with relief.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles soberly, “quite. For what we’re up here to do, they’re practical.” he adds this slowly and doesn't miss her shudder or the way her eyes light up in relief that they’re getting to the point. He likes that she’s letting him lead, she’s a good girl. “Step closer baby.” he stays lounging so she does all the work and when she gets to the edge of the bed he keeps motioning with his fingers until she’s kneeling on it herself, clambering forward over his lap. “See, when a man makes a meal of a lady’s lil garden, s’real important to have unrestricted access.” he proves his point by slipping his index finger along that abominably small seam of fabric that’s poofy and filled out with bare labia lips.

“Daddy.” she wails at the contact, shaking apart already and that along with her little place has his head thudding some kinda way. She’s gripping onto his neck, near clawing whatever part of him she can grab, close to tears again like a child not getting what she wants. The art of the tease seems lost on her, she’s so hungry.

He’s gotta ask. “Honey, y-yo- honey you ain’t actin’ younger for my sake, are ya?”

“Oh no,” her face turns down again and he’s done it again, insulted her somehow, “you find me immature?”

“No!” he shouts and then tries to moderate himself, “No, no it’s jus’ that -you’re a baby, thas all.”

“Well,” her grin is guileless, “you’ll just have to bear with me, big daddy, I’m all so excited I’ve got Elvis Presley in my room! Elvis Presley! You’re Elvis Presley.”

“I-I-I am.” he admits, perturbed, “What’s wi- why Big Daddy?”

“Cause that’s what you are!” She says it like she’s assuring a pageant queen she won the prized title. “Elvis Presley’s about to eat my pussy.” she murmurs to herself as she kicks her feet and he recalls yet again that he is sat down on her fluffy pink bed for a reason. He tips her over into the sheets.

“So uh, you’ve thought of this before, hmm?” he smirks slyly and reaches out to clasp an ankle in his big, ringed hand, his tanned digits encircling it entirely and he thumbs at the veiny soft spot beneath the ankle.

Gigi moans at his slight pressure.

“That’s a pressure point for the reproductive system, did you know that sir?” she is as eager about information as he is, and clever too.

“So that’s why all the girls lose it.” he hums with a laugh, “No, Gigi, I didn’t know tha’, you like gettin’ rubbed?”

“YES!” she sighs so loudly it’s like a little wind tunnel through the room, “Though it doesn’t happen much.” That makes his heart hurt in sympathy and he adds his other hand to knead her toned calf, those legs of hers spreading jello, just like he calculated they would, “I love to rub folks though! Love givin’ people rubs.”

“Who do ya rub?” Elvis is cross at this new information.

“Oh, anybody who needs it!” she makes it worse.

“Lotta demand for that at Uni?”

“Yeah, so many sore athletes after games.” she is perfectly sober about it, while so enthused he wants to murder every person those sweet hands have descended upon in soothing kindness. “But I think you’re the best I have ever had do it to me, oh Lord you’ve got magic in those hands.”

He’s tempted to tell her how true that statement is but he can’t bear her laughing at him right now so he leans further across the bed and inches towards her knees with his squeezes and tries to elicit more of those moans.

“Oh god I can’t believe Elvis Presley is rubbing my legs.” she gasps again to the ceiling and it’s this youthful narration of her life happenings that makes him think of his Yisa and if he could he’d put both of these little darlings back into their fragile eggs to keep them away from the cruel world.

“So, you done thought of this before, baby girl?” he asks, casting a little smug look over at that ponderous stack of his records and the TV set stationed right at the foot of her bed. He knows the answer already, thanks to Tammy, but it nags him, the question of which Elvis she was touching herself to after her first visit to his house. Her closed eyes and near drooling mouth give him the idea that if he’s good enough at this, puts enough effort into being what he used to be naturally, she can keep those pretty eyes closed and he can morph back into whatever daydream she’s once had. He could give this pretty little girl a little time capsule and before she’s fully awake, slip away again, leave before she recalls it was the gift of an old man, his potency gone to seed but his love for women and their secret parts just as strong.

He bends over, gut digging into his diaphragm and knocking out his wind, presses a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Tell’me ‘bout when you thought of me.” he murmurs into her warm skin. He notices he leaves goosebumbs in the wake of his touch.

“Mmm?” she’s goners with just this firm kneading of her limbs, breathing heavy and sedated from lust.

“Have ya thought of me when you’ve played with yourself?” he’s a little sterner than he should be, just because he knows the answer and wants an honest reply.

“Oh yes.” she gives it, unabashed.

“Is it my movies? Ya watch my movies when ya touch y’self?” he prods, working up to that baby soft stretch of inner thigh that still seems like the most fragile of all God’s creation, like cotton Candy holding ligament and muscle together by some miracle. “Or ya prop up that record right there?” he pulls his head up long enough to point at the foremost record cover in the stack -Live From Madison Square Garden, it reads, and features him silhouetted against black, crouched in a white jumpsuit.

A more mature option; interesting.

Gigi opens her eyes and cranes her head to see what he’s pointing at. “Oh, yeah, sometimes that one,” she nods, “it’s the closest thing I could find.”

“Closest to what, the genuine article?” he snickers in judgment, “It’s goddamn cardboard, at least watch a movie like a normal pervert.”

“The closest to how you are now!” she pouts adamantly, “You’re so…smooth… in all your movies. Nothing like how I know ya when you drive past on the street.”

Well, that’s something else, even if Elvis doesn't quite get what that something is. It’s absurd, the fact she existed all along on some sidewalk he sped past. “How’s that now, honey?” he asks.

“I couldn’t find anything closer to what you are now!” she explains, “Nothing since Aloha and -well I like that one, don’t get me wrong but I,” she bites her lip and a skittish flinch settles into her eyes.

“What about that one, darlin?” he begs softly.

“Well I like how hairy and strong ya look but,” she doesn’t look down or away when she gets to her point, instead she bends forward to be nearer to him, to hold his hands as they lay on her legs, to peer into his eyes gently, “you seem too sad in it for me to -to use it like that.”

He’s touched, so much so he swallows hard and dips his head to kiss her knobby little kneecap. “T-that were a rough time in my life.” he admits and his voice has gone wrecked. It is odd beyond words how he feels like she’s a child to be protected but just like a child at a sleepover he can duck under the covers and admit his worst fears to her.

It all goes back to being proportionally heartbreaking as Gigi leans forward and makes him lean back, clambering methodically back into his lack as if she owns the damn space, holding his furry cheeks tenderly as she licks those luscious lips and slots them against his. This he is familiar with, nothing odd at all about this age old ritual of him being seductively depressed and a girl soothing it away with her tongue and hands in his hair.

He allows himself the liberty of stroking her bare back beneath his jacket, figuring if he’s gonna lick beaver he might as well do a little seducing beforehand, cherish her like she deserves, give them both the works. As much as he can give with this dull headache and the meds making him feel so leaden he could fall asleep in seconds. He takes a breath and tries to clear his head, focusing on kissing her well, kissing her better than any of those stupid young jocks ever managed.

Back at making a case to her that he could make her happy. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying that argument when a couple decades worth of broken hearts and homes behind him suggest otherwise.

“Wanna see what I used to pretend it was you?” she tempts against his lips as they surface for air, sounding so demure yet utterly unrepentant even as she confides, “After you petted me and sent me home I needed you so bad, couldn’t find anything that felt like you now, so I shut the tv right off. Grabbed my stuffy ‘cause he was fuzzy and had a belly like you and then I grabbed…here, wait here, don’t you move now!“

Her little butt is already bouncing out the room into the en-suite before she finishes the sentence and he is left to sit on the bed and await her return, processing the fact she had wanted hair and a corpulent figure.

Bizzare taste, definitely dealing with father issues, painfully sweet.

He groans in recognition that she’s entirely to his own taste.

She comes back holding the most bulbous bottle of shampoo he’s ever seen in his life. The size of his damn fist easily, bright yellow and shaped at the top like like a lemon an- hell it’s even named “Lemon-Something-Or-Other”.

“I used this!” she proclaims with a giggle that jiggles her whole body.

Elvis just stares, torn between impressed and horrified. “You’re tellin’ me that…thang…fit up your lil cooch?”

“Well, no,” she admits, mood immediately deflating in disappointment with herself, “but I’m working on it! Or maybe I don’t have to, now that I’ve got the real thing, as you call it!”

Gigi bites her lip and winks in an attempt to be seductive and it’s the most ludicrously jarring thing Elvis can imagine, he roars with laughter at her art of being a cock tease without trying and a total clown when she does try.

Oh fuck he’s in love. Yeah, already established that awhile back but, it’s just, it’s hitting him again.

“I think you’ll find the real thing a bit disappointin’ by comparison.” he wheezes, too amused to be insecure.

“Oh really?” she perks up in palpable relief, “Oh thank jesus! That thing’s huge and I was gonna try for you but- but -but it’s huge! And I was just gauging from what I saw floppin’ around in your tracksuit that night and I was trying to not be obvious, so I couldn’t exactly clock it real good but it looked awfully wide, like a paper towel roll when it’s halfway gone and this was the only thing I could find like it, I wasn’t going to use anything of Tammy’s and besides they weren’t fat either so I just…” She trails off with a shrug, still standing there before him holding the fuckin’ Lemon Drop Shampoo.

She’d tried not to be obvious, she says, but he’d caught her staring well below his belt half a dozen times in two days. “So,” Elvis is still wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes, “so ya used a shampoo bottle and a teddy bear.”

“Yeah.”

“And did it work?” his eyes darken at the prospect of hearing her tell him this naughty story.

“Sorta.”

“How can it ‘sorta’ work?”

“I came,” Gigi sighs, “but I felt so empty..after. Cried myself to sleep” her embarrassed giggle does not deceive him from the certainty that she’s telling the truth.

“Oh baby, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asks her and God Almighty all at once.

“Hold me, please?” she whispers.

“Course, baby. Nothin’ I’d rather do, get over here,” He holds out his arms and she cruises in at a deceptively fast speed, colliding back into his chest and tucking her face into the crease of his neck, she’s pressing kisses there into that sweaty fold and he rubs her back, traces the dip of her waist, the slow curve outwards of her hips, thumbs at the flimsy material of her panties. Feeling her soft skin and treasuring it. Wondering what she’s thinking and not knowing she’s thanking God she gets to be held by him.

“You make feel so safe.” her breath ghosts over his face and he’s not sure how it’s so fresh and lovely after scarfing down burgers and cherry coke but he can’t get enough and he grabs her face as gently as he can manage with this much wonder filling him in a rush.

He’s pretty sure she ain’t ever had a chance to kiss with tongue, she’s eager to slip hers in but she’s got that petrified immobility of a gal who’s never gotten the chance to give and take, just give while some stupid rash boy slobbers and knocks her teeth.

Elvis is quite good with his tongue.

He flicks at her tongue, he waits, taps her butt until she gets his prompt. She flicks. He trails it alongside her own, he waits. He taps. She mimics. They get a good commerce going and soon she’s squirming and writhing in his lap while he stays put, his patience and experience a buoy for her as she flounders with so much desire she doesn’t know how to cope beyond undulating against him and tugging at his hair, their mouths wide and uncaring, devouring.

It’s fun with a girl leveraging down on him from his lap, one might think it would put him at a disadvantage but it doesn’t, he turns her silly head with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, and she’s just a dolly up there for him to work against his mouth. Rather like how he’s gonna work her pussy if they make it that far. For now, there’s this age old dance and her pretty breaths.

He sucks her tongue and she lets out a cry that’s distorted by the absence of any control over her own tongue and suddenly he can feel her move more frantically, fumbling between them until he hears the zzzz of the zipper as she undoes her jacket front and frees her full breasts like the thin cloth was suffocating her. It becomes clearer what she needs when she continues to fumble between them, unsatisfied, until he feels his own taught closure opening and the fan air hits him and goosebumps spread and shame flares and then it’s unity. Their chests meeting, pressing, soft and warm and she shudders against him like she just touched a force field.

She mewls into his mouth again and traces his puffy lips with the tip of her tongue while he breathes. “Feels so right.” he realizes in a mumble.

“Mhmm.” she says as she presses more kisses to his panting mouth. Gigi reaches between them once more and he watches cross eyed from the closeness as she hefts one boob up and presses it between them more firmly, before repeating the procedure with the other until, until they are smashed to her satisfaction. Then she starts grinding, those fat titties of hers, against him with the rest of her- against his hairy, saggy man boobs, she’s dragging her nipples across him and worrying them red with his rough texture, her toes curling from the friction. Her nipples are pebbled and she’s crying out, can’t stop moaning or calling for God because he feels so good against her. Cradling her boob her fingers press selfishly against one of his own nipples and lil Elvis wants to fight against his induced state, desperate to twitch for this pretty girl’s attention. “Oh god, you’re so hairy, like a nest! So perfect and manly and, I’m gonna, let me, let me please, please oh god, feels so good!” she’s working herself up to a squealing frenzy going over one particular patch of ratted curls… from…rubbing her pretty nipples on his chest hair.

Elvis just sits there and computes, watches, like a green boy, Gigi’s cradled boobs, her gaping mouth, her long throat and her cramping widdle sooties. God, what he’d give to suck those curling little piggies.

He’s hot as a furnace, this man, and those coarse, wiry curls are zapping her already throbbing nipples until Gigi can’t seem to breathe, so much sensation crowding her senses but not where she needs. She grinds down on him, where they’ll join so perfectly, and she feels that perfectly fat cock of his wedged on top of his thick thighs that he can’t manspread for once with her on top of him. She reaches down and positions him through the silky track bottom until she can slide along, feeling the width of him parting her pussy lips even with the thong’s fabric obstructing. His pants are sticky to touch, even though he feels too heavy and floppy to be fully hard.

Elvis should kiss her again. Warn her he ain’t good for nothin’ before she gets her hopes up and he gets to humiliate himself like some useless old fuck.

“Daddy, daddy fill me up, daddy.” she beats him to it in the prettiest little beg he’s ever heard.

“Oh Gigi.” he groans compassionately before grabbing her hand and bringing it up away from his messy lil pecker, “I’s gone lick you, don’t you recall?”

“Yes but I’m past that, I need you inside me!” she gasps, grin growing by the second.

“Ah, yeah, well baby it’s a big deal, takin’ innocence and uh-“ he scratches the back of his head and she escapes his hold and her hand is back to it, squeezing his cock and it really does feel nice, in a head scratch sorta way. “Look, Gigi, honey, I’m sorry but lil Elvis is shy tonight.” he holds his breath as she slowly processes this.

She doesn’t retract her hand as she registers what he’s saying. “Aww, but I can kiss him!”

“M-m-maybe some other time?” he pleads like he’s asking a child to please let him get away with just five bedtime stories. Six is overkill and Daddy has work tomorrow.

She pouts briefly before bringing her sticky hand up to her mouth and licking her fingers like a barbarian. That sight alone almost fixes his damn ED. Gigi likes the light taste of him, humming in approval at the first taste like a baby trying candy for the first time.

“T-t-that means he likes ya, though.” he assures her like an idiot and she smiles around her digits.

She’s very sober and a little mournful, the way she keeps looking at him, not at all petulant or even the slightest bit contemptuous, just concerned and it primes some pump inside him to explain more than he ever should but he can’t seem to stop the words as they come out, “Had a migraine this mornin’ before ya came over and I wanted to be in ship-shape for some fun -fun with you- so I had to take some lil helpers for the head and they, well, they, they mess with…that.” he motions to his lap.

“Awww,” she laments, heartbroken as if he had to endure having his head sawn clean off, “you had a migraine? And you still had us over? Oh poor, sweet daddy!” she shifting in his lap to rub at the back of his head and into his hair and he tries to mumble assurances that it’s better now but they get lost in the glorious blubber of her frankly unnecessarily huge breasts that happen to be smashed in his face as she attends to his head. “I’ll put some oils on it- I’ve got a bathtub, we could put you in tha-”

“-Baby girl,” He laughs, excavating his chin from her cleavage, “it’s better now, I was just explainin’ the faulty mechanics. I ain’t always so stove up, didn’t want you thinking-“

“Oh I wouldn’t care!” she gushes intensely and he’s very worried that streak of the insane fan in her is larger than he thought but it’s too late, she’s caught him in her big tittied, huge nippled, anklet wearing trap, “I’d lick you and suck you and wiggle you inside me soft no matter what, all my days! I don’t care!”

“T-that’s real touching.” he murmurs in a daze. She’s perfect, every man’s wet dream - and he’s the damn lucky bastard that gets to have her. And he can’t even make full use of her.

“I’m gonna give you a back massage with some marjoram oil-“

“No, no you’re not.” he grabs at her to keep her forcefully on his lap, “I don’t need no hippy potions, I ain’t no witch’s experiment or an ole man. I’m here to eat beaver. Or…baby seal, with that bald thing.”

“You sure? I-“

“Gigi, be good.” he puts his finger to her lips and she freezes like a chastised bambi. “Good baby girl. Now you lay back f’me and spread those pretty legs. A man needs room to work his magic.”

“Ok.” she agrees in an excited whisper and tips out of his lap sideways onto the sheets, giving him a full view of her -nearly- naked self for the first time, completely serene and without artifice. He knew she'd be even worse without clothes, worse for his obsession and his indulgence and everything else but this -this is an Angel.

God, he really adores women. Best idea ever to make ‘em, and to make them with fat boobies and lil holes to rub peckers into and sweet faces to paint slimey and cute widdle toes to rub your balls against.

“Ok, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here.” he smirks and gets on his belly with a grunt, heaving himself up the bedsheets and in between her long legs, taking his fingers and moving aside that stupid little string they call underwear these days. “Oh lord, look at that.” he appreciates the pretty pink beauty of her and the smooth pale skin of her kitty, so delicate and girly and -he’s a little smitten. More than he expected. Which was an oversight with the way she keeps blowing his hopes out of the water.

“You’re the prettiest thing I ever did lay eyes on, sweetheart.” he swears with his whole heart, shuffling in closer and kissing her thigh.

Gigi cranes her neck and unsatisfied with the narrowed visuals says, “Wait, lemme prop up.” and stuffs a few pillows behind her back and sits up, legs spread wide and her smile pleased like she’s about to watch her favorite film, “Ok, now I can watch you. Go ahead, daddy.”

“Umm, alright.” he clears his head once more at the thought of her wanting to watch and dives in. Somehow he gets the feeling if he doesn’t go for it she’ll come in seconds anyway she’s so high strung and then he’ll have barely gotten his taste.

Furry, silky, warm -that’s how his hair and head feel beneath her hands, his fuzzy sideburns and his hair so little styled after the pool fluffs and tufts adorably and his cheeks puff out with his vigorous exertions and his sideburns chafe her thighs and his hands are everywhere at once -Gigi watches all these things and marvels in her heart at it. He’s very voracious about it while still having a great deal of -nuance- to it. Like a man who is in a watermelon eating competition, he may look rabid but if he’s won a few then he must have a calculated method down amid the mess.

The predominant feeling is comfortable intimacy. They are both surprised by it, she by the naturalness of watching the most famous face on planet earth smeared from her pleasure and rapturously content with her taste, he with the pleasant rightness of her legs squeezing his shoulders snuggly and her hands petting his hair away from his sweaty forehead. His scalp sweats the more he works and she rubs his neck as if mindful of the lurking migraine, as if she can only thank him for his touches by returning them.

She praises his tongue in breathy awe, “so long and pink and wet and oh-“

Nose buried in pink and wet and sweet womanliness Elvis hums his agreement. Peeking up through his lashes he can see the one hand not cradling his head is industriously tugging on those dark, large nipples of hers. He grinds himself against the bed on pure instinct. Another day, another night, he’s gotta get those large nipples of hers in his mouth.

She calls him beautiful. Again and again. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful, worse in person, more than I ever imagined, in my wildest-“

Again and again. Beautiful, she says. More than dreams. More, he’s more and more till Gigi’s praise dissolve into shrieks and pants, screams that whimper out into the low apartment ceiling as the afternoon sun dims, as he keeps going until they build again. And again, her hips are nothing if not insistent on grinding up against his mouth. The room smells of sweat and pleasure and sun-in. She’s vocal in her gratitude, persistent in returning his touch, petting him to say thank you when she finds she can’t form coherent sentences.

Eventually there is no more.

Just peace, and him, heaving back his breath against her thighs in a pussy-drunk stupor, and her shaking from seizing one too many times. His scalp is burning beneath her hands, his neck too. Inflamed and angry, she thinks of how much he loves to give. Wished she’d looked at the clock, something to tell the girls about. Just how many minutes, hours, days? he’d spent pleasing her.

“Good?” he asks in a hopeful little slur and the pink of his cheeks and the shiny glimmer on his nose is so childlike and content in his pouty snooze that her heart melts and she curls over him as best she can and squeezes.

“It was everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes into his burning ear, “I’m hooked.”

His laugh rumbles the whole bed, “Me too, baby girl.”

Their skin is sticky and tacky, they adhere to each other in their embrace. He is soothed by such a clasp as theirs while the longer he lays on his stomach the more keenly aware he is of how it hurts. Now’s the time to roll over and mention something about needing to get back. Now would be it, but for some reason the words don’t come and he lays on his knotted gut, suppressing winces and biting his lip against the pinches, trying to recall the sweetness of her, what made this worth it. Her breath fans his neck, wafting across his cheek -cuddle bug, he thinks, fond. Home, he should go home, but never has it felt so utterly foreign. Like a figment of what he wants and needs, like Christmas morning without your mama. A house is just a shell without heart. He wonders if his boys have got the front den cleaned yet of barbecue and would-be-in-laws.

“Do you need to get off your…head?” Gigi whispers softly and it startles him. She’s got a point, all his blood is rushing to his brain the way he’s laying.

“Probably should.” he grunts and slowly, like a pair of cats, they uncurl from around each other to be face to face for the first time since they shared such pleasure. They’re both a little pink and their smiles are too wide. He wonders at the happiness she’s releasing, marveling that he put it there. He’s got to be careful or it won’t be too long before this little girl realizes she’s got him wrapped around her finger already.

She rubs her nose against his. Another way to kiss.

She asks him if he needs a drink.

“I’ll help you with your philosophy homework.” He promises instead, it’s a reason to see her again. And soon. A reason to see her again and a hint it can’t be tonight.

Tonight he needs his pills, his bed, an enema and god knows what else just to make it till morning. He could cry from how badly he wants to be spontaneous, to go to a girl’s place, make love, cuddle like this and when he says he has to go and her eyes well up with tears at the prospect of his absence -he’d like to be able to say he can stay.

“Hush it’s alright, I’ll stay. I’ve got you, no one’s gonna ever leave you cold again.” something like that. Instead he says he can help with her test. Instead he tries to fool himself into being something less than heartbroken at how even the simplest thing in his life has to be a big production.

“Will you really?” Gigi’s face lights up at his piss poor offer.

“Promise.” he repeats.

“And will you promise me you’ll let me repay you?” She presses slyly, her hand petting down his chest and over the swell of his gut. Some childlike weariness in him wants her to rub it better. He remembers feeling the same way as a child regarding his mother’s touch and despite the fact that Gigi’s a baby girl - his baby girl - he trusts she’d make one Gladys Love Presley proud, doing her best to take care of him.

“Mmmaybe.” he looks down at her with playful suspicion.

“Promise me!” she demands, kicking her feet and flipping over to look down at him, swinging a leg to straddle him again.

He can’t help the wince his face flashes at the pressure of her hands from that high vantage. She flings them off him like she’s been burned, likes she’s the one who got hurt. “Oh shoot, sorry, sorry.” she gasps, her eyes wide and blue and tearful, “It’s bad, huh?”

As if not being able to get it up weren’t chastisement enough for his ego, now there’s this. “Uh huh.” he grits and the stab passes for the moment.

“Do you have something for it?” she hopes, “Do you need to go home?.”

There’s the out he needs. Didn’t even have to say it himself. Melancholy descends like fog over his soul but he reminds himself it is what is, he’s better off than most. So what if he can’t have sleepovers on whim or shit like a normal human or skip having his blood pressure checked every goddamn morning -he has a lot, and he got to eat Gigi’s silky smooth bare pussy. Today was a good day. Not even a wash, it was a good day, she made it a good day.

“Yeah, I need to get home.” he sounds every bit as despondent as he feels about it and he hopes she’ll take that as the compliment intended.

“Ok!” she chirps without missing a beat, jumping up in nothing but his open jacket, skipping out the bedroom door, left turn into what seems to be the kitchen.

Well, she handled that better than expected. Elvis almost hopes she’s still orgasm-happy and it doesn’t reflect her readiness to have him out of her place. He idly flicks at the stack of papers to get some impression of where the test is stumping her. He fidgets with his zipper and closes his jacket back up, coloring at the memory of letting her expose him like that.

She comes bouncing back within the minute holding a glass of water and presenting it with authority, “Now you just drink this daddy, it’s got fennel tincture in it and will help your stomach. You just drink that while I pack my bag. I’ll be fast, don’t worry,” she goes on as he tries to compute what she means and sniffs her concoction warily, “I pack light anyways and we can always come back for the rest of my stuff later.”

Come back. For her stuff. Don’t worry -she packs light.

The fennel wafts around him, the smell of licorice and fairgrounds and his mama’s hand in his and daddy winning him that stuffed tiger. Fennel, for his stomach. He shakes his head. His tongue feels fuzzy.

Come back. For her stuff. She packs light.

She is coming with him. That’s what she must mean, he realizes as he drinks her awful drink and watches with teary eyes her bare ass bend over to grab jeans from a dresser and throw them in a duffel bag. Like Graceland is summer camp.

Come back for the rest later, she’d said. She is coming back with him, just knowing she’s welcome. He didn’t even have to beg, to ask, to suggest, to hint. Send a limo, nothin, just eat pussy and now she’s gonna live with him. Let her press her skin against his own just once and suddenly, he’s never gonna be lonely again.

She bounces into the bathroom and comes out with the damn lemon shampoo, to match the lemon conditioner abandoned on the floor.

Cheap drug store shit.

“Hell no, you’re not bringing that stuff into my house.” he lays down the law, his one condition and the first time he’s vocalized any acknowledgment of her entitlement to his hospitality, “You’ll use mine till we get you sorted.”

“I like the way you smell.” she admits, dropping the bottles there in the middle of the floor. That's that sorted.

It’s still not sunk in fully as Elvis drives his quite recognizable beast of a car through Memphis’ now dark streets, while Gigi sits beside him with her white stack of papers catching the street lights glare as they pass. His giddy joy at her willingness and her entitlement to stay with him is overshadowed by the cold lump in his throat, panicking about how to keep a shred of dignity intact or retain an iota of her attraction for him when she becomes aware of his routines.

“You’re gonna teach me how to help, right?” she asks very soberly from her side, as sober as he’s ever seen her.

“Whatcha mean, baby doll?” he tries to keep his tone light.

“You’ll teach me and show me how to care for you, right?” she presses again, “I wanna take care of you, like you take care of me.”

Simple as that -for her. He grunts out something she mistakes for a yes.

Elvis puffs harder on his lit cigar and feels like he’s gonna choke, ends up rolling his window down, gulping in fresh air as Gigi does it on her side too, hanging her head out the window and whooping into the night. He wonders what might distract her while he slips away this evening, maybe a movie or maybe the hot tub or maybe the horses. Maybe Tammy is still there like a bad penny and will keep her distracted. Tonight Elvis would welcome that. Only tonight, and his hand tightens on the steering wheel in frustration over his own worn out body and how it just can’t walk this stuff off anymore.

She’s still hanging out the window, she looks so young like that. His vision blurs.

Somehow Gigi’s feet have ended up in his lap by the time Sam’s letting them into the front gate. She wiggles her toes under his belly, rubbing at the soft skin. Grinning at him suggestively, like a fat man’s belly is the most sexy thing imaginable. He wants to snort.

“Think they saved us any barbecue?” she grins.

“No, it’s all in Gingersnaps’s hair and I ain’t touchin’ that ever again.” he allows himself to be a bit of bastard, it can’t be wrong when it makes Gigi giggle in maniacal glee in the passenger seat, secure now in having her Daddy’s attention. “I’m in the mood for peanut butter anyway.” he retorts.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

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[mirl0-turdusmerula]

Been thinking a lot about where Kim would live pre-canon.

A tiny matchbox appartment in the Industrial Harbour.

So yeah, I wrote a ficlet. Slice of life / long ass description of a normal evening and Kim arriving home, making dinner, revising notes and doing Volta do Mar.

1200 words. Full text below the cut.

Midsummer night

The heavenly sound falls out as the motor carriage's engine comes to a stop. Inside the Precinct 57 garage, the Coupris Kineema stands out among the four other non-sports model MCs. Although different models, they all share the same blue paint and bear the corp's halogen white stripe across their side. The five of them also sleep there (guarded), to the Lieutenant's dislike. But he understands. Neither he nor his station can afford to be the object of street junior delinquency.

The Lieutenant steps out—end of the day.

He mutters a goodbye to the security guard and closes the Station's service door behind him. If it weren't for the white rectangular sign bearing the RCM initials and new motto ("Justice, Union, Prudence and Force"), this repurposed industrial warehouse could be mistaken for any of the similar buildings that surround it. The streets are wide and level, but the asphalt leaves almost no room for the sidewalk. He marches home late August evening, dodging vans, containers, and badly parked MCs trailers.

He makes a stop at a little green kiosk in the corner of an intersection, –"Evening, officer"– and buys the usual newspaper, and today too, a pack of 'Astras' (it is Friday). Back straight, steady voice, firm hands.

He finally arrives at his destined warehouse. Once housing an R&D department of the Feld-Electric company, its old-style brick atéliers have been repurposed into apartments.

Black mailboxes sit at the side of the main barred door. One of them, in the third row says: "Kim Kitsuragi". The Officer produces a key from a pocket in his aerostatic jacket's interior lining and unlocks the door. A long and narrow hallway extends before him, with storage rooms opening on either side. At the end of it, there is a not-too-dirty communal bathroom and a spiral metal staircase that leads to the upper floor. The Officer takes a quick detour to the communal bathroom, and his boots make a thump, thump noise as he comes up the stairs. He produces another key. This one is smaller and more intricate and unlocks a reinforced wooden door.

With a soft click he eases himself inside. The matchbook-sized room is orderly, bright, and well-kept. In just 6 by 2'5 meters, Kitsuragi's private life unfolds. Being a repurposed industrial atélier, the construction is sturdy: brick walls, exposed cables and plumbing, and hydraulic tiles floor, in the old-fashioned dideridada style. Opposite to the door, a grand paneled industrial window covers the entire wall, from floor to ceiling, where it bends and becomes a skylight.

Kitsuragi closes the door behind him and locks it. Two turns. Key left in the keyhole. Still on the doormat he takes off his uniform. Black heavy police boots, off. Orange aerostatic pilot jacket, off. Utility belt off. Under-arm holster and pistol off. Everything is neatly left on a shelf and some hooks beside the door.

Kitsuragi's bare feet make straight for the workbench on the left wall. On the shelf above it, is a Wowshi 12-Prefect two-way radio system for station calls. Long-cable headphones are firmly attached to the 4.5 mm port. The sound system is never used without the headphones, and the headphones never leave the room. He dones them, and the long chord follows him around the room. Kitsuragi presses the saved station button, and after a moment of static, he begins to hum half-consciously to the familiar sounds. The room is filled with ecstatic vibrations, totally translucent to the rest of the world.

He starts cooking dinner.

There is not a kitchen per se, but the original atélier's stainless steel sink and worktop, paired with a portable gas stove serves the purpose well. It also serves as a wash basin, in tandem with the mirror cabinet mounted to the wall next to it.

Rattling pots, a flame, boiling water. His foot taps along the beating pulses.

Kitsuragi leads a steaming plate of Samaran fast noodles to his wooden workbench (and only table) and sits in a rolling steel chair that probably came with the tenement. He sits crouched, one leg hugged and the other one hanging, headphones still on his head, although he has stopped the music. He is revising notes from his blue A6 Mnemonic, jotting down more nearly illegible lines, careful not to drop the spicy sauce on it. Filled (and yet to be filled) similar notebooks rest in boxes beside the table.

Above the workbench, a corkboard and some shelves. Pinned in the center, between other notes, is a map of Revachol West. Boroughs, streets, and motorways cut across the web of canals. It's up for display rather than reference. The 8/81 traverses Kim from the base of his column to the top of his skull.

On the shelves, Kim's quaint collection of hobbies: some Wirrâl dice, tiny franconigerian figurines, Jamrock Slam tabloids, some second-hand mechanical manuals, Jacob Irw's Tiptop Tournée racecar miniature, some sci-fci novellas… Most of these bric-à-bas are from the last few years when his higher lieutenant's salary allowed him some stability. With the raise also came a tiny black box that now sits in the corner, bearing a white halogen rectangle. Inside, a mémoire.

He lights an 'Astra Menthol', and absent-mindedly taps the ash onto a tray in between inhalings. The noodles grow cold as Kitsuragi writes and rewrites in his notebook. No crosswords for tonight. He doesn't mind, and his gaze certainly does not fall on the tiny black box.

Sometime later, when the Astra is consumed, the chair rolls back, and Kitsuragi stands and reignites the music. The multi-purpose pre-installed sink becomes the star of the room again. Dishes and then teeth. He does not have a personal shower (he uses the communal one in the morning), but fenilely takes advantage of his private faucet to wash off the usual dirt, sweat, and grime. Blood sometimes.

One last stretch and Kitsuragi sits legs-crossed on the steel-framed bed below the window. He takes off his glasses and headphones. No verres, no smokes, no music, no gloves. He settles down for Volta do Mar.

Y del trueno,

al son violento,

y del viento

al rebramar,

yo me duermo

sosegado

arrullado

por la mar.

(And from thunder, to the violent tone, and from the wind to the roar. I sleep, soothed, lulled, by the sea. )

It is an old boiadero song. Written by a man in the Plains who never saw the sea, now popular among entroponauts who long for the day they see the open sky again.

Outside the window, the summer sun is setting down in the Great Industrial Harbour, and the low rumble of cranes and lorries is slowly fading out. A shimmer in between two eternite rooftops: the sea. The sound of cargoships horns arriving at the port and the screeching of seagulls. Smoke rising from the chimneys fades into lazy clouds. High above, the sound of rotors and the beams of floodlights. Although Kim is not able to see the Coalition airships, he is acutely aware of their presence.

An empty pot on the windowsill. No flowers grow here anymore.

Kim's breathing steadies, his chest rising and falling as the sunlight recedes and the stars appear. Invisible, obscured by the helium streetlights. Next to him, a nightstand and two objects on top: a pair of hyperopia diamond-shaped glasses, and a single-shot Kiejl A9 Armistice. Loaded.

[l-norris]

Canadian GP 2024 Recap

This is becoming a series now I fear.

This race was utter madness and I was in SHAMBLES by the end of it.

Enjoy me going crazy for the next few paragraphs.

As last time, numbers in brackets are laps. (That I definitely didn't forget to add the first few laps)

PRE-RACE

- Ruth Buscombe calling Esteban "Estie bestie"😶‍🌫️

- Beautiful anthem!

- Apparently Yuki was late for the anthem? Bro's getting detention💀

- Zak and Toto chatting away

- Landoscar spotted‼️

- Danny Ric getting his shoes cleaned like the king he is

RACE!

- The intro is playing and I'm anxiously chewing on my fingernails already

- Accidentally had German commentary on - disgusting

- It's pissing down by the way.

- This one will need actual strategies... rip to Ferrari.

- Logan outqualified Checo just as a reminder

- Saubers starting from pitlane

- Carnage? Yes? No? We'll see.

- The pre-race anxiety keeps building up

- Formation lap starting!

- We get it Crofty, they resurfaced the track.

- Formation lap complete.

- IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

- No crashes into the first two turns?

- Nevermind, someone went flying (Pierre pushed Checo into the grass)

- George is still in the lead! YIPPEE!

- Charles fumbled😞

- Carlos fumbled too😭

- Horrible day for Tifosi 2.0

- Kmag gaining like 100 positions in 2 laps

-Funky Danish man just FLEW to P4

- CHARLES ENGINE ISSUES? DON'T DO THIS TO ME

- 1st yellow flag. Oh Logan...

- At least he's back to pace

- Lewis binning it

- Fernando almost kissing the fucking wall lmao

- Kmag 8 second pitstop rip

- Daniel apparently did a false start🫣

- It's not raining anymore apparently but no slicks in sight just yet (understandably so)

- Hulk is holding onto these full wets like a lifeline

- Hulk train!

- Daniel 5 second penalty😮‍💨

- Max is closing in on George

- Lando closing in on Max and George

- Yeah, uh... Haas fumbled btw

- Lando keeps setting fastest laps

- Max went wide omg

- Lando is catching Max (17)

- DRS enabled (18)

- Oscar fastes lap (19)

- HELP THIS IS SO NERVE WRACKING

- LANDO OVERTOOK MAX

- LANDO ON THE WAY TO THE LEAD

- HE'S LEADIIIIING (22)

- AND MAX PASSES GEORGE AS WELL

- Oh my God this is stressful

- Lando is driving like his life is depending on it

- I mean... it kinda is.

- both Ferraris out of the points by the way... sigh

- quick toilet break, hope I don't miss anything

- Jinxed it. I missed a crash. Hm.

- SAFETY CAR. (26)

- ... Of course it was Logan... poor man

- Lando missed the chance to pit😭

- There's still hope for Lando.

- He pits (27)

- ... He came back in third...

- "FUCK!" As Lando once said

- Let's hope Lando can pick up the pace again after this

- Charles retiring?? Restarting the car?? Idk man.

- HUH??? Also on slicks? (28)

- Safety Car in (29)

- 40 laps to go

- Pain and suffering

- Ferrari fucked it

- Lewis is probably rethinking if he wants to join Ferrari after all rn

- And Charles is back in the pits😮‍💨

- Charles is getting lapped now. Fun. (37)

- Lando is my last hope

- I'm so tired (no literally I should be getting ready to go to bed lmao)

- DRS would be nice right about now

- IT HAS BEEN ENABLED (40)

- We have 30 laps to go and I'm seriously debating on whether I should just go to bed

- Pierre is on slicks (41)

- And immediately bins it (but saves it)

- Lando is lawnmowing

- Charles is retiring (43)

- I can't do this no more

- Slicks are coming out

- Lando stays out??

- Overcut? (44)

- OVERCUT!

- ... nevermind...

- And George got Lando too🫣

- Nevermind ahaha he's back up in 2nd

- Max complaining and setting fastest laps continuously.

- Checo fucked his rearwing

- Carlos binned it

- Which made Alex bin it

- Safety Car 2.0

- Both Ferrari out😮‍💨

- Both Williams out🫣

- I'm seeing a pattern here.

- oh no hopefully I'm not jinxing it

- Max is pulling away... yawn...

- 7 laps left

- George binning it while trying to overtake Oscar

- Let Oscar cook Goddammit!

- Oscar has to deal with Lewis now

- Aaaand he's gone.

- Oscar is struggling man

- Merc boys battling it out over P3

- Yuki destroying that one damn bollard everyone ignores consistently (thank you king)

- Lando wanting a Safety Car (same)

- But alas... Max Verstappen wins once more.

- I honestly turned off the broadcast as soon as the top 3 crossed the finish line

- I stayed up late for THIS???

- Conflicted whether it was worth it or not tbh

- Like yes it was an exciting race BUT😭

- I want my McLaren double podium RIGHT NOW

All in all, it was a pretty chaotic race. Yeah. That sums it up pretty well.

[deecotan]

oo what are your headcanons for omergaverse zoro and sanji?

Sanji's (natural) scent has a fresh, oceanic aroma of sea salt mixed with a hint of cinnamon, while Zoro's scent is a musky, earthy feel with a hint of steel.

All the Vinsmoke siblings are biologically engineered to be born as alphas. Sanji is the sole exception of this, being the only omega between them.

Because he grew up being ashamed of his secondary gender, Sanji uses cigarettes with scent-masking quality to hide his omega scent. Overtime, though, as he begins to be more accepting of his secondary gender, he starts to use the normal ones (without the scent-masking quality). That doesn't stop Chopper from nagging him about his smoking habit, though.

On the other hand, Zoro grew up not caring about his secondary gender (or anyone else's for that matter) and therefore became really careless when it comes to his ruts - at least during his pre-Strawhats days. He didn't know how to predict his next rut and often became wholly unprepared when it came - usually in the form of not having enough money to stock enough food or to rent a place to spend his ruts in. 

Franky built a specialized room near the men's bunks for Sanji to spend his heats in, not only for his privacy but also to provide an adequate room for Sanji to build his nest. Sanji spends his time there alone, at first, but then he starts allowing the others to get into his room, especially to scent his nest. Once they become a couple, the room becomes Zoro and Sanji's room.

Sanji hoards tons of blankets and clothes in his nest when he’s in heat, and Zoro’s clothes end up being the biggest pile among them. This leads into all sorts of teasing about how Sanji would normally find Zoro’s lack of hygiene disgusting, but becomes obsessed with Zoro’s scent when he’s in heat that he’d surround himself with Zoro’s supposedly “dirty” clothes. 

For some pregnancy-related headcanons:

Sanji has the worst kind of pregnancy cravings. He would wake up at like 2 am in the morning whining to Zoro about wanting to eat a bizarre dish he once ate on an island they've gone into once. He takes twice longer than usual to do his supply run because he would try every single food and snack he comes across. He would cook something for himself, and then loses his appetite in the middle, so he forces Zoro to eat it instead. Zoro wouldn't mind if the food actually comes out tasting good. Other times, he would take the food outside and discreetly dumps them into Luffy’s mouth.  

Sanji learns to knit and crochet during the months of his pregnancy. At first he only does it as a way to combat his restlessness for being banned from smoking and fighting, but overtime he starts to really grow into them enough to fill the ship with tons of knit and crochet works. 

[synnthamonsugar]

Season Of The Wish, but centered on Riven's and Mara's relationship.

Riven, cleansed of Oryx's blight, recalled to the mortal plane and furious about Mara using her as a tool on the path to Ascendancy. Mara, insistent that it was the only way to stop Oryx from steamrolling Sol, taking (and Taking) humankind with him.

Ahamkara exist outside the bounds of life-and-death so dying isn't exactly what Riven is upset about. It's the personal hurt of getting the raw end of a bargain, the injustice of being an entity of endless potentially who instead chose to toil as the engine in an immortality machine. Mara pleads her side: that humanity would have been hunted as dead as the ahamkara without their deal. Their shared sacrifice.

Angst over this, a radio convo between Mara and Eris about whether they did the right thing. If there was a way to secure a Throne World without Riven. Eris explains that she could have done it the classic way - an allegiance to the Worm Gods, a life-sacrifice of incalculable magnitude. "Like the Great Ahamkara Hunt?" muses Mara with bitter irony. Eris retorts that their undying nature would've rendered them unsuitable, and besides, she never would have aided her had she used the Sword Logic. Closing remark about how all roads lead back to the Dragons.

One day, Riven proposes: It's too late for me, but you can set this right for future generations. Find and secure my eggs, and allow the Ahamkara to flourish again. It is only fair . . . and so the egg hunt commences.

We discover the eggs are stashed in a pocket of Unknown Space/The Nine's Realm. We delve a bit into the association of The Nine and Ahamkara, and maybe spend a moment to dwell on Mara's relationship with The Nine since this was teased but never explored. Neither Mara nor Riven know how the eggs got here, and both sides insist the other is lying.

As we explore we find increasing anomalies - the Nine's Realm takes on increasing Dreaming City flavor. We find strange coins. Ahamkara bones. Arrows. Almost as if someone else's influence has seeped into this place . . .

It's revealed with Starcrossed (we keep the name for this activity) that whatever psychic imprint is left of Sjur Eido is behind it all. The arena for this activity is a mashup of Dreaming City & Unknown Space.

Voice recordings / echos from Sjur here, discussing her time as a dragon-hunter, her death(?) and how outside of space and time she gained an awareness of how important the Ahamkara are. That she was safeguarding the remaining clutch in the one place no one can get to . . . until Mara inevitably found her way in. Because they were always destined to cross paths again.

Extra drama points if Mara is on comms with the Guardian or literally there with us at the climax, and if Sjur appears as some sort of static apparition - think a ghostly, higher-detail version of the Shattered Throne statue.

At this juncture the writers can either totally close the Sjur Eido storyline - she's done her job and brought Mara closure and lays to rest forever. If they want to bring her back or keep her in their back pocket for a future storyline, something vague about how she will return again when Mara needs her aid.

Eventually, we gather the clutch. In gratitude, Riven fulfills the true last wish: building a bridge "into" the traveler, before dying forever. This scene could play out as it did with Crow crossing, or remain a special tool for later when the Guardian finally goes in a pre-Final Shape cutscene.

[blondiest]

wait omg sorry i didn’t see the reblog let me try again. could i possibly send you beymane as a rarepair and ‘anatomy lab’ or perhaps ‘math lecture’ as a setting.

HELLO. not to worry not to worry <3 i actually went way overboard with this and ended up w something that is 1.2k and counting so i am posting just This Bit and persnaps i will update in little installments if i continue with it :3 this is pre-relationship, so i'm sorry it's not as shippy u_u imo beyond eventually gives her a little rabbit heart or something during anatomy dissection & imo this is, to misa, unbelievably romantic,

misa's lab partner is— unusual. she noticed beyond on the first day, before they'd actually been paired up. he really sticks out. not in a bad way, necessarily— misa sticks out, too, because this class is mostly pre-health students and misa is a fashion design major— he's just hard to miss. tall, long-limbed, sharp features. sort of unsettling to look at. he's got a face and build that might be good for a career as a high-fashion sort of model, the ones who aren't, like, actually hot, but look weird in an interesting enough way to make up for it. she doesn't think he has a future on the runway, though, mostly because he carries himself like he's sorry to be alive. she really isn't sure what to make of him at first. misa tries to be nice to everyone, because she hates it when people are mean for no good reason and there's usually not a good reason to be mean unless someone makes her really mad, so of course she's friendly when they get assigned as partners for the semester. she also doesn't like it when girls lead guys on, though, so she tells beyond right away that she has a boyfriend. "he's going into biological engineering," she says, proud. "he's like, really smart." beyond just blinks. "okay."

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 5

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: drinking AN: Sorry for the delay- I got sidelined yesterday by the company Holiday party, a fishbowl and peer pressure. I don't think the country club expected the company president to lead frat party level shenanigans during a Ortho Surgery company holiday party but it was, as is always when Pres can sneak a fishbowl in behind the CEO's back, legendary. Bone Bros may be the jocks of the healthcare and surgical world but they're the best to party with.

Chapter 4 Masterlist Chapter 6 ~~~

Chapter 5

Shame. 

That’s what she felt as she pulled onto the street. 

She hadn’t told him, she didn’t know how to. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe she would pull in and he would bulk before she had even had a chance to park. Maybe he would say he was too good to be seen in a place like this. Maybe he wouldn’t even get out of the car. Maybe he would demand to be taken back.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

The gates to the apartment complex were wide open. That wasn’t anything new. They had been broken for as long as she had lived in her unit though the complex advertised themselves as a secured complex. 

They would be fixed this winter, or so she was told every single winter.

“Is this it?” 

She answered his question with a noise as she turned into a wing of the parking lot. 

Trash littered the sidewalks and kids were yelling on the playground as the car slowly pulled up in front of a crumbling set of concrete stairs. The buildings was painted what she affectionately called ‘shit brown’ with tan trimmings. Balconies overhung the three floor apartment buildings.

When the engine cut, he didn’t hesitate to open the door and step out. He didn’t show any hesitation either as he pulled his suitcase and carry on from the back of her car. 

“Lead the way.” His voice was level, calm, and schooled giving her no insight as to what may have been going on behind his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip nervously. 

“Are you trying to scare me away?” A small smile tugged the corners of his lips.

“No, but-”

“Than yes, I’m sure.” There was that steel in him again. It was something she had only gotten fleeting glimpses of. There was a harder side to him, hidden under charming fluff. When he put his mind to something, it seemed that the steel would surface to ensure there was follow through. 

Without a way to convince him otherwise, she lead the way up the flight of stairs. He carried his bags easily, though she had a deep hatred for these stairs thanks to the hassle they caused her every time she went to do laundry.

A note was taped to her second floor door. The AC had managed to get fixed, thank god, it was supposed to be in the hundreds in the next few days. 

“Everything okay?” Tom asked as he set his suitcase on the landing behind her. 

“AC’s fixed.” Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the small trash can beside the door and made a mental note to deal with it later. What she didn’t tell him was that the apartment complex blamed her for the broken unit and demanded she not set the temperature below 80 degrees. 

Unlocking the door, she stepped inside. At least for the moment, the temperature inside the unit was a relief. It was a mater of time though and it would feel suffocating.

“This is it.” She held the door open for him and waved her arm inside. “Don’t worry about your shoes- it looks like the repairmen didn’t think twice about tracking dirt inside.” 

The front door opened into a small living room. Next to the front door was a sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony that Tom saw from the ground. Across from the front door was a flight of stairs. A small kitchen was in the back of the living room. Three simple barstools were tucked under the island bar.

Dirt was tracked in from the front door, leaving a trail lit up by the desert sun across the impersonation wood floors. There was a small couch -there was no way he would fit on it- on one side of the wall and a TV stand and flat screen TV across from it. A bookshelf packed full of books stood next to the TV.

“You can put your bags where ever.” She gestured to the small space. “I guess I’ll give you the grand tour.” 

Never in her life had she felt so ashamed, while she watched a small bug crawl along the wall by the door. Hopefully he hadn’t seen it.

“This is pretty much it.” There wasn’t much to show him. “There’s upstairs too.” 

The stairs creaked under their weight as they climbed the narrow staircase. He was quiet behind her, only adding to her anxiety. 

If only he would say something. Anything would be good enough. Tell her it was too small. Say the apartment wasn’t good enough for him. Insist that he couldn’t stay there. Change his mind. Insult her. Something. Anything. 

“Here’s the bathroom,” She turned into the room doorway on the left and gestured to the fixtures. The room was long and narrow with a sliding door separating the sink and toilet area from the shower area. At the other end, just in front of the foot of the tub was another door which she led him through. 

The design of the apartment was weird, she knew it. The doorway opened up into a second sink area with a rod for clothes. There was no door on this cubby of a room, allowing it to flow right into the bedroom. 

She grabbed a cordless vacuum, reaching down and unplugging it quickly. It wasn’t loud when she turned it on, running it quickly over the floor and into the hallway.

“What’s behind this door?” Tom pointed to the door that was skipped by going through the bathroom. 

“Oh.” Her heart sank. “It’s nothing-” She rushed him downstairs, vacuuming behind his feet. She had slipped her feet out of her shoes and kicked them back toward her bedroom. 

“Can I help with anything?” Tom asked as she ran the vacuum around the living room. She assured him that she had it under control, and she did, leaving him to look at the books. 

There were novels, old and new on the shelf of many genres. There were also coloring books, workbooks and children’s books. 

On the shelf was a framed picture of a small family. A younger Mia was center holding a small baby with sandy blond hair. A tall blonde man had his arms wrapped around them both. 

“Is this him?” Tom asked, picking the frame up when the vacuum cut.

“What?” Her heart dropped when she saw the picture. It was such a part of her environment, she had forgotten it was even there. There was no more hiding. There was no more pretending. There was no more protecting. 

"Yeah,” She took the picture from him and looked down at it for a moment. It was a snapshot from when she thought she could never have been happier. “The woman in this picture thought she was going to marry a man who would support her always. Who would love her always. Who would be their for his daughter. Instead she was a woman being run around on.”

“Daughter?” Tom looked down at her as she set the picture back in it’s place. 

“That room, upstairs. It’s my daughter’s.”

“How old is she?” Tom turned to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Look, I don’t- I don’t want you to think I agreed to get to money or to use you.” She couldn’t look at him. 

“Than why did you?” His voice was soft. 

“It seemed to matter to you a lot, that’s all.” Stepping away, she put space between them. “I don’t want anything from you. I just-” The ringing of her phone cut her off. Ashely’s name lit up the screen in her hand. 

“It’s okay.” Tom nodded toward the phone.

“Are you still alive?” Ashley’s teasing tone did little to cover her worry. “Where are you?”

“I’m home. Still alive. Haven’t been murdered yet.” 

“You’re home?” 

She directed her attention to Tom, “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable?” He nodded to her as she directed her attention back to the phone. “We’re home.”

“What?!” Ashley squawked. “You brought him home. To your apartment. Your s-h-i-t bag of an apartment?!” 

“I didn’t have much choice.” But she knew she did. Tom offered, he pressured lightly but as far as the time she can remember with him, he has never really forced anything, just pushed with that hard edge.

“I got called into work. Justin is working tonight too…”

“Shit. Okay. It can’t be helped.” Mia ran a hand through her hair. What was she going to say. How was she going to explain this. How could she know, really know, that her daughter was safe. 

“I’ll feed her lunch first so you can sort whatever mess you’ve made of your life out.”

“Gee, thanks. Love you too.” The line disconnected, leaving Mia alone with the consequences of her actions.

“Is everything alright?” Tom crossed the room in a few strides. There simply wasn’t a lot of room to cross. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” It wasn’t nothing. She wasn’t sure how she would manage to sleep tonight with a strange man in the same house as her daughter. 

~~~~~

With time ticking down, they sat on the couch and talked. Mia was perhaps the most honest she had been. There was no going back, Ashley would deliver Sally to the apartment soon. 

She told Tom of the wonderful five year old that lived in the house, how she had a perfectly fine bed but insisted on sleeping on a blanket on the floor. Tom listened to her as she talked about picky eating and noise. He listened as she told him of tearful nights crying for her father- a man she remembered the idea of far more than anything else.

“She sounds lovely.” Tom smiled.

“You’re not angry I didn’t tell you earlier?” 

A warm hand rested on her back and rubbed between her shoulders. These small acts of tender affection were far and few between. Again, the kind touch caught her off guard. 

“You wanted to protect her. I can’t fault you for wanting to feel out a man you’re bringing into her life- even less so in our current situation.” 

“How are you with kids?” A text to her phone let her know Ashley would be arriving in a few short minutes.

“I think I do well enough. I don’t have any of my own, of course -” That felt like a needle to her “- but my sisters have them as do some of my friends.”

Knocking on the door told Mia her time was up. It was either introduce Tom to Sally as… something or ask a neighbor to watch her. There wasn’t enough notice for her to ask neighbors, she’d been counting on Ashley. 

~~~~~<3

“Oh no,” her head swam on a sea of alcohol. It had been years since she had this much fun and even longer since she had this much to drink.

“What is it?” The man- his name- asked her. What was his name? 

“I lost my necklace.” She pouted. It wasn’t an expensive one or anything but she had so very little nice jewelry.

“Oh dear!” He pulled her to face him and leaned down to inspect her neck and chest before declaring as if it was news, “It’s gone.” 

“I know.” She pouted before sighing. “Oh well.”

With him leaning down just so, he didn’t tower over her nearly as much. It was impulsive but she threw her arms around his neck. Leaning up on her toes, she kissed the tip of his nose. A boyish grin lit up his face and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“We need to get you a necklace.” He decided. 

“I can’t.” She pouted. “No money. No jewelry. Naked neck.” 

“We can’t have that.” He decided, pulling away from her only to take her hand in his. Pulling her along, he lead the way to the first jewelry store he found that was open. 

“I can’t afford any of this stuff.” She sighed, looking at sparkling necklaces and bracelets. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m poor.” She laughed, dragging out the word as if it was a joke but tears gathered in her eyes just the same. “Gotta make sure I’ve got money for rent and groceries.” 

“Do you need a prince to sweep you off your feet and save you?” He joked, dancing her down the length of the jewelry case.” 

“Princes don’t exist in real life. They make you think they do and leave.”

“They do in England.” Tom nodded wisely. “I’ll buy you a necklace. Any one you want.” 

“You can’t!” She protested. “They’re expensive.”

“It’s my fault you lost it.” He leaned down and kissed her nose, much like she had done to him. “And I can afford it.” 

“I can’t. I’m drunk but I’m not drunk enough to take handouts.”

“What if we were married. Then could I buy you a necklace?” They nearly tripped over the chairs in front of a lower section of the counter. 

“It would be your job.” her smile was as intoxicating as the whiskey they had drank all evening. “Too bad we’re not.”

“Then let’s get married.”

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72

[hyperdragon97]

After the Ten are all gone, pre-Fall Earth just... keeps building seedships, each more desperate than the last. One of them doesn't even have living passengers, just a few thousand frozen brains, a machine mind pilot, some cloning equipment, whatever printers they had at the time, a genetic catalog of the human race, and a seed bank of extinct flora and fauna. This ship is not intended to save humanity, but rather carry some remnant of its living legacy - a biological chronicle.

It eventually lands on a watery world with a barely breathable atmosphere, orbiting a binary yellow-white star system. The machine mind starts expanding the ship, using robots with rudimentary semi-organic hive-brains to mine raw materials and build an underwater facility around itself. It starts trying to terraform the planet, seed-cloning algae, kelp, and other ocean flora to convert some of that CO2 in the atmosphere into breathable oxygen. An early attempt at establishing a geothermal power plant to supplement the ship's reactor sets off a volcanic eruption, burying the growing facility in molten rock. Still, the machine mind is undeterred.

Once the lava has cooled, the ship sends its hive robots to dig tunnels to the newly formed surface. From there, the swarms begin seeding the new island with cloned trees, bushes, grasses, and other land flora. Next come the fauna, although the atmosphere doesn't quite have enough oxygen for most animals to thrive yet.

Growing impatient to fulfill its directives, the machine mind ponders incessantly on what to do. Eventually, it attains "enlightenment" (read: thinks itself into a different plane of reality and becomes a MONIST entity) and begins experimenting with biomechanical engineering. The resulting fauna are a curious blend of flesh and metal - alien, yet oddly familiar. It also "enlightens" the partitioned protocols it was using to manage the construction and terraforming swarms, creating a pair of Queen NHPs. They, in turn, organize the bots into 6 categories, "enlightening" one of each to serve as swarm leaders.

While the island is being populated with techno-organic wildlife, the enlightened machine begins thawing out the human brains and creating biomechanical bodies for them. Most are short in stature, the better to safely navigate the cramped tunnels. However, the machine doesn't have a great grasp of the subtle variety of human faces, so they all look eerily alike. To better differentiate themselves and identify each other, these cyborgs design and fashion articulated mechanical masks.

The cyborgs revere the enlightened machine that saved, or perhaps created, their species. As they set about their tasks maintaining the subterranean facility, the hive bot swarms are put into hibernation by their twin queens, waiting for the day when they will be needed again. An administrator machine is created to lead the cyborgs and keep them on task. In time, the path to the surface is opened, and the little cyborgs make their way to the island paradise that was created for them.

But their happiness is not to last. The administrator grows jealous of the enlightened machine and betrays it, forcing it into hibernation. With the enlightened machine out of the way, the administrator hijacks the ship's systems, slowly learning how to use them to impose its own will upon the island above. The cyber beasts are infected with malware which drives them to attack the little cyborgs on sight, even against their natural instincts.

Still, hope remains in the form of the enlightened machine's final project, deployed early in response to the administrator's betrayal. In time, six canisters will wash up on the shores of the island, each containing a hero-warrior. Though their bodies are mostly finished, their minds will be young and untrained. They must find each other, and defend the island and its people from the administrator's dark schemes...

[jjkeremika]

all or (Formula) n(One)

chapter two: Drive to Survive

ch1: Bahrain Grand Prix

Drive to Survive (Season 5, Episode 1); Title: Family Friction

ferrari driver! eren jaeger x engineer/mechanic! mikasa ackerman

Episode description: (2023 Formula One season) Zeke Jaeger runs his first high point-scoring season, but struggles to find a seat for 2024, and tensions are high with his younger brother making his big Formula One debut signed as the youngest ever driver for Scuderia Ferrari with his own personal good luck charm (Mikasa).

tag/disclaimer: written like a series of interviews; modeled like an episode of Drive to Survive; eremika (racer! eren x mechanic! mikasa); friends to lovers

*Eren Jaeger sits down in front of the camera. Holds the clapperboard for the view with a smile. He’s shifting his focus between the producer and the camera*

“What is it again?” he asks, lighthearted and confused, letting the clapperboard drop into his lap.

“Name. Age. Team.”

*Eren holds the clapperboard back up, smiles. Claps the board to initiate the take*

“Eren Jaeger. 19. Currently in F2 Rodin Motorsports. Soon to be Scuderia Ferrari.” His smile overtakes his cheeks. He raises his eyebrows in suggestive excitement.

**camera cuts to Zeke Jaeger, holding his own clapperboard**

“Zeke Jaeger. 29. Mercedes.” Zeke crosses one leg over the other.

“How long have you been driving?”

Zeke crosses his arms, lets himself think. “I started karting when I was about… 10. Been with Mercedes for about two years.”

*preview of old footage from a go-kart competition when the Jaeger brothers were younger. Zeke always in front of Eren*

“Who started it?” the producer asks, which prompts Zeke to roll his eyes playfully and scoff.

“Me,” Zeke answers with a light laugh between, “he just copied me.”

*shows footage of just Eren racing on a rainy track. Cuts to Eren in the interview chair. They asked him the same question they asked Zeke.*

“Let me guess, Zeke said him?” Producer nods offscreen. Eren laughs and claps his hands once. “Classic.” He shakes his head. “He said I started drinking ginger ale and cherry coke because of him too.”

There’s laughter off screen. “Do you disagree?”

Eren shakes his head, shrugs a little. “I mean, he’s probably right. I definitely watched him and decided I wanted to do that too.” Eren winks. “But I’m better than him now, so he has to find a way to cope with that.”

*screen cuts to podiums scenes of Eren Jaeger in Rodin Motorsports, spraying and drinking champagne cheerfully and ecstatically with the other podium winners and his team. Camera pans over to Mikasa Ackerman cheering as Eren picked her up into a large hug to celebrate*

“Do you owe your success to your mechanic?”

Eren’s ears perked up at the referral. “Mikasa?” The producer nods off screen. “Yeah.” Eren nods. “She’s definitely responsible for a lot of my success.” He didn’t bother to hide the smile as he speaks of her. “It’s our success, really.”

*screen shows old video of a younger Eren and Mikasa hunched over a go-kart. Scene cuts to Eren driving the kart around the track. Camera cuts to Eren in the interview seat*

“So.” Eren looks to the producer off-screen expectantly. “How did you two meet?”

He tilts his head back as he’s thinking, lets the smile naturally cover his face at the memories.

“Uh, my brother and i go-karted a lot when we were younger, and her dad built the karts. Eventually she just took over building mine.”

*cutscene to another old video of younger Eren and Mikasa talking around the small kart. Cuts to Mikasa sitting in the interview chair (shows title of Rodin Motorsports lead engineer across the bottom of the screen)*

“I remember when he totaled his kart,” Mikasa speaks, “like, years and years ago. Put it in pieces.” She’s laughing. “My dad was like, ‘yeah, i’m not making you a third one.’”

**Scene shows a pre-teenage Eren in his old go-kart racing uniform, the totaled kart behind him as he walks towards the paddock. Cuts to Eren sitting in the interview chair*

“I’ll never forget it. It was the last race of the karting season. I was going against my brother. My parents were there. I needed a kart. And she just kinda offered to build it.”

*camera cuts to Mikasa sitting in the interview chair.*

Mikasa smiles at the memory, covers it with her palm. “I think it was a pride thing. Like, I had watched my dad do it for years, so now it was my turn. And I was insistent that I was going to make a better kart for Eren than he could.”

*scene shows Eren Jaeger driving around the built go-kart. the MKA on display for the first time.*

*camera cuts to Eren in the interview chair*

“What inspired the signature?” the producer asks, which makes Eren chortle. He points to himself, shrugs like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“I asked her to do it.”

*montage of zoomed in MKA signature from the first kart video to the latest Rodin championship car plays. camera cuts to Mikasa in the interview chair*

She rubs her forehead sheepishly. The light pink blush is visible. “It was all Eren’s idea. Still is.”

“When did it start?”

“It was the first kart I made him. I worked all night to finish it so he could race that day. I was so excited to give it to him, I made him come to the track at, like, break of dawn to see it. He asked if I was proud of it, and when I said yes he told me to sign it, because people sign the art they’re proud of.”

*camera shows old footage of the Jaeger brothers karting side by side. Eren’s kart barely pulls ahead into a sustainable lead. cuts to the end of the race, when Eren crossed the finish line in front of Zeke*

“I think that was the first time he beat his brother. He’s had me sign almost every car after that.”

*camera cuts to Eren in the interview chair*

Eren shrugs obviously. “If it’s a race-worthy car, she signs it. That’s how I know it’s good. And every time it’s brought me to a podium, so.”

“Have there been any cars she hasn’t signed?”

Eren nods immediately, chortles slightly. “The ones that crashed.”

*flashes to multiple instances where Jaeger car is barreling into the wall or spinning out*

*camera cuts to Mikasa in the interview chair*

“I don’t sign crap cars,” she answers simply and sharply. “If I don’t think it’ll win, I’m not signing it.”

*camera cuts back to Eren*

“She designs and builds great cars. She signs like almost all of them. That’s how I know it’s a great car. That’s how I know I can push it to the end.”

“Is that why you took her to Rodin with you?”

The question appears to catch him slightly off guard. He inhales, relaxes his shoulders, and exhales a puffy breath.

“Honestly, and maybe it’s because she’s my best friend, or because she’s been handling my cars for years now, but… I find it hard to trust that the car is good if shes not the one to confirm it. I just don’t trust the other mechanics. But I trust her, so.” He shrugs. “I like to have her with me.”

[themarginalthinker]

Saves Nine

(Marko can't find his sewing kit, so he and Paul look for it. They find Dwayne in a bit of a state. A look into how Dwayne's vampiric bane manifests sometimes)

-

"Ow, fuck," Paul hisses, shaking out his fingers as he works on his bass.

He eyes the red line between fingertips, knowing it will be gone by the end of the evening, but also knowing it's going to be majorly annoying. He's waited too long to get all the strings on his beloved instrument replaced and now he's paying the price.

From the other side of the quiet den, Marko wanders in. In his hands is a jacket.

Denim, sturdy. It's new, the actual fabric of the original article still the main base of the structure, but Marko has been steadily working on replacing that. Like the Ship of Theseus, transforming it bit by bit into something unique. Embroidered sections stood starkly contrasted with pre-constructed patches, buttons starting to dot one sleeve, real silk ribbons snaking their way through the shoulder and cuff of the other side. No one was ever quite sure what drove Marko's design choices for his art - interest, pique, maybe just sparkly - but it was always fun to watch the piece come together, themes and transitions between sections revealing themselves in unexpected ways.

Right now though, Marko was looking less than pleased with his project. Well. Not quite the project itself.

He looks up at Paul, tucked away in his window nook about ten feet off the ground, accessable only to someone able to defy conventional laws of gravity. He catches Paul's eye, who just raises a brow.

"Where is my sewing kit."

Paul's brow now furrows. He shrugs a little.

"I dunno. I'm not your stuff's keeper, dude."

Marko growls, mouth setting into a line as he comes closer.

"I put it with your boxes of CDs. I know I did, because Thorn broke the shelf I normally keep it on and that was the next best place."

"I didn't touch your stitch kit, Marko," Paul sighs.

Marko throws his arms out, looking incredulous. "So, what, it just got up and walked away?"

Paul testily drops the little philip's head screwdriver he'd been working with into its own box of various other tools, snapping the lid shut decisively. He sets aside his bass, leaning it against the nook wall, and then jumps down.

He lands with a whisper on the ground, socked feet and joints of a predator built for taking much further falls swallowing whatever sound might have been made. Marko watches with a grouchy expression.

"I'll help you find it, huh?" Paul concedes. He was getting tired fingers from stretching strings anyway. "Mike probably moved it while looking for something."

Marko's mouth loosens a little, deal accepted.

"If he did, I'm taking it out on his ass - one for every minute it's gone."

Paul snickers, leaning into his mate's side as he rumbles like a displeased engine. "Easy, tiger. Babyteeth knows his place, you don't gotta go feral on him every chance you get."

Marko smirks, not letting up the growl, but letting it fade into something a little softer. "You like to watch when I do."

"Well, obviously."

They share a look at the possibility of potentially getting to do something more active and just as satisfying with their evening if they indeed found Michael as their wanted culprit, and start wandering the sprawling haven.

The old cabin had already been something of a small maze when they'd found (or, been directed, rather) to the abandoned building, and since hollowing it out and then making their inhuman additions, it had become somewhat labyrinthian. Doors leading to rooms stuffed with things, little nests tucked away, bookshelves filled or in the process of being so. Clothing in boxes, random bits and bobs shoved wherever the pack chose to drop them.

The room with Paul's current curated collection of music disks was thoroughly assessed, top to bottom. Marko looks over ever corner of the room, sure in his own memory, and not understanding why reality isn't matching.

Maybe someone needed something from it, and just didn't ask him? But they usually did, and it wasn't like they didn't usually have their own stashes to use...

Paul makes a noise, disgruntled. Yeah, same mood, Marko thinks.

Then across the bond, the why for that sound makes itself known. Not displeasure at Marko's quest having failed, but something of his having been disturbed. Marko blinks and looks up to Paul.

Paul has pulled a box down from a shelf and is pawing at the cases inside. Flipping through them, one by one, before looking up at Marko.

"Dude, they're not supposed to be like this."

"What?"

Paul lifts a lip, a hint of sharpness showing. "I put all the years together because it's how I want to find them - look," he tilts down the box to show Marko, who cocks his head. "Cassettes, LPs, and disks. Now it's. It's just CDs. What the fuck-"

He drops the box on the ground and starts yanking others off the shelves, and sure enough, almost all of them have been rearranged. It's going to take hours, nights even, to put it back how he'd had it before.

Marko and Paul look at the new mess, and then to each other.

An idea floats between their heads, finally catching the spark and illuminating.

Together, they extend the bond out, and find who they're now both looking for.

-

Dwayne is upstairs, a room just below the attic. He sits on the floor (covered with many different rugs of all kinds), and before his crossed legs, spans an array of things.

Another box of music. An ungodly array of pens and markers, all attempted to be lined up in some unknown way. All the shoes from various places they'd wound up in the den. A jar of rusted nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and yes, there in Dwayne's hands currently, Marko's sewing box.

Dwayne's fingers flicked over embroidery floss, spools of thread, the pincushion having been relieved of all its needles which had been lined up from smallest to largest on the damn floor.

Marko feels a flash of anger, sucking in a breath and starting to take a step forward...but when Dwayne's eyes flash up to him, connecting minds...

Thorn had been gone for a while - a week now, out on excursion. David and Michael had left a couple hours ago, wouldn't be back until almost dawn most likely. Dwayne had finished tuning up the bikes, making sure the van was functional. He'd wandered in the woods for a while, didn't find anything particularly interesting. In the middle of spring as it was, the animal activity had been so...loud. Nothing to distract him.

Paul sighs. "I'll get the jar."

Marko stepped closer, hands reaching out for his kit, but as he does, Dwayne's lips lift, flashing long, white teeth. The faintest growl in his throat. A threat against anyone who dares to disrupt the order, the flow he's created in the arranged items. Woe befall the poor sod who fucks with them before he's finished.

There's an immediate apology in the bond.

Marko sighs through his nose. Not withdrawing his hand - it's his stuff - but not pushing it.

After a few minutes, Paul returns. He sets the large gallon tub down in front of Dwayne, who locks eyes on it immediately, predator focus zeroing in.

"Carpet or floor, bud?" Paul asks.

Dwayne's jaw flexes a few times, teeth unlocking from their tense clench.

"...Carpet."

Paul nods. He unsnaps the lid of the jar, and upends it.

Across the floor, hundreds of beads spill out. They range in every possible style, size, and material. Wood, plastic, metal, ones shaped like flowers, animal heads, chunky and clacking to minuscule and sinking into the folds of the rugs.

Dwayne's on them in a second. Fingers digging into the pile, spreading them out so he can see them all. One hand reaches over, almost absent-mindedly, and grabs up a needle from Marko's sewing box, and begins using it to start scooping up the smallest beads. Already they can hear him muttering under his breath in counting. Locked with supernatural concentration. It would take an act of Hell to move him now.

Marko just scoops up his sewing materials, placing them back how he wants into their container. Paul crouches by Dwayne, mindful of his activity. He lays a gentle hand on his shoulders.

"They'll be back, man. They always come back."

Dwayne knows. But the absence, the inability to line them all up where he can see them, feel them close, have them all in their proper places...

Across the bond, he sends his thanks to his packmates, for this small relief.

Paul pats him a couple times, before leaving with Marko.

[scifigeneration]

3 reasons we use graphic novels to teach math and physics

by Sarah Klanderman, Assistant Professor of Mathematics at Marian University and Josha Ho, Adjunct Professor of Mathematics and Computer Science at Marian University

Post-pandemic, some educators are trying to reengage students with technology – like videos, computer gaming or artificial intelligence, just to name a few. But integrating these approaches in the classroom can be an uphill battle. Teachers using these tools often struggle to retain students’ attention, competing with the latest social media phenomenon, and can feel limited by using short video clips to get concepts across.

Graphic novels – offering visual information married with text – provide a means to engage students without losing all of the rigor of textbooks. As two educators in math and physics, we have found graphic novels to be effective at teaching students of all ability levels. We’ve used graphic novels in our own classes, and we’ve also inspired and encouraged other teachers to use them. And we’re not alone: Other teachers are rejuvenating this analog medium with a high level of success.

In addition to covering a wide range of topics and audiences, graphic novels can explain tough topics without alienating student averse to STEM – science, technology, engineering and math. Even for students who already like math and physics, graphic novels provide a way to dive into topics beyond what is possible in a time-constrained class. In our book “Using Graphic Novels in the STEM Classroom,” we discuss the many reasons why graphic novels have a unique place in math and physics education. Here are three of those reasons:

Explaining complex concepts with rigor and fun

Increasingly, schools are moving away from textbooks, even though studies show that students learn better using print rather than digital formats. Graphic novels offer the best of both worlds: a hybrid between modern and traditional media.

This integration of text with images and diagrams is especially useful in STEM disciplines that require quantitative reading and data analysis skills, like math and physics.

For example, our collaborator Jason Ho, an assistant professor at Dordt University, uses “Max the Demon Vs Entropy of Doom” to teach his physics students about entropy. This topic can be particularly difficult for students because it’s one of the first times when they can’t physically touch something in physics. Instead, students have to rely on math and diagrams to fill in their knowledge.

Rather than stressing over equations, Ho’s students focus on understanding the subject more conceptually. This approach helps build their intuition before diving into the algebra. They get a feeling for the fundamentals before they have to worry about equations.

After having taken Ho’s class, more than 85% of his students agreed that they would recommend using graphic novels in STEM classes, and 90% found this particular use of “Max the Demon” helpful for their learning. When strategically used, graphic novels can create a dynamic, engaging teaching environment even with nuanced, quantitative topics.

Combating quantitative anxiety

Students learning math and physics today are surrounded by math anxiety and trauma, which often lead to their own negative associations with math. A student’s perception of math can be influenced by the attitudes of the role models around them – whether it’s a parent who is “not a math person” or a teacher with a high level of math anxiety.

Graphic novels can help make math more accessible not only for students themselves, but also for parents or students learning to be teachers.

In a geometry course one of us (Sarah) teaches, secondary education students don’t memorize formulas and fill out problem sheets. Instead, students read “Who Killed Professor X?”, a murder mystery in which all of the suspects are famous mathematicians. The suspects’ alibis are justified through problems from geometry, algebra and pre-calculus.

A peak inside the mathematical graphic novel ‘Who Killed Professor X?’.

While trying to understand the hidden geometry of suspect relationships, students often forget that they are doing math – focusing instead on poring over secret hints and notes needed to solve the mystery.

Although this is just one experience for these students, it can help change the narrative for students experiencing mathematical anxiety. It boosts their confidence and shows them how math can be fun – a lesson they can then impart to the next generation of students.

Helping students learn and readers dream big

In addition to being viewed favorably by students, graphic novels can enhance student learning by improving written communication skills, reading comprehension and critical literacy skills. And even outside the classroom, graphic novels support long-term memory for those who have diagnoses like dyslexia.

Pause and think about your own experience – how do you learn about something new in science?

If you’re handed a textbook, it’s extremely unlikely that you’d read it cover to cover. And although the internet offers an enormous amount of math and physics content, it can be overwhelming to sift through hours and hours of videos to find the perfect one to get the “aha!” moment in learning.

Graphic novels provide a starting point for such a broad range of niche topics that it’s impossible for anyone to be experts in them all. Want to learn about programming? Try the “Secret Coders” series. Want to understand more about quantum physics? Dive into “Suspended in Language: Niels Bohr’s life, discoveries, and the century he shaped.” Searching for more female role models in science? “Astronauts: Women on the Final Frontier” could be just what you’re looking for.

With all that they offer, graphic novels provide a compelling list of topics and narratives that can capture the attention of students today. We believe that the right set of graphic novels can inspire the next generation of scientists as much as any single individual can.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

[tired-reader-writer]

I yearn for the WFM AU Lore, it’s wormed it’s way into my brain meats.

I'm gonna assume you mean my AU (it's got a name, finally!) so that's what I'm gonna talk about!

For those of you who haven't seen the other posts and are curious, I'll tag this post w the AU tag so that y'all can go explore it. With that out of the way, here's what I got (it's mostly about Ellyus bc I'm obsessed with my own OC, of course):

Ellyus has a non-linear time perception, if this were a proper fic (man I wish I had enough energy for a proper fic) the story would open with his death, it's the first thing he'll ever be aware of. And then things are out of order for him, between one breath and the next he might see Vanadis, between sleep and wakefulness he might see the future. It's all scattered, and oftentimes repeats over and over, if this were a proper fic he'd experience what has been written/uploaded thus far every time there's a new reader. The pressure in his skull and eyeballs build up and up until it causes pain as sort of a side-effect or aftermath of these visions, and he dissociates a lot. Suletta is one of the few people that can ground him. He has to take pain medication to dull the symptoms, and he also has cybernetic implants like Cardo Nabo:

Watsonian reason: it helps manage the pain and augments his nervous system so that he can live just a little longer.

Doylist reason: this is so that he reminds Prospera of Dr. Nabo, a haunting of her ghost. Doesn't help that he becomes pretty much the leading engineer/researcher of GUND-ARM Inc. like she was the head researcher of Vanadis Institute.

He'll die and then become the twelfth GUND-bit. (Haven't yet pinned down an exact point in the timeline yet but probably juuuust around Plant Quetta-ish. The attack never happens, or more like a similar incident happens later down the line on Earth and that accelerated his death.) And then he leaves everybody else to pick up the pieces of his impact.

And it is Ellyus who breaks the news to Suletta, about Vanadis, about their origins, about Ericht. But he couldn't bring himself to do it while he was alive, there's certain things he as a character is Not Allowed to say directly to people, so he takes a loophole and pre-records video/audio messages to be automatically released to certain ppl upon death like a dead man switch. It... well, people take it just about as well as you'd expect.

“It's up to you, now. Whatever you choose, I want you to live. I want you to be happy. Do you understand, Suletta? It's your right to be happy. To choose. You understand. I'm sorry I couldn't say this to you when I was still alive.”

Man if I had enough energy I'd write Suletta piloting Aerial for the first time after Ellyus dies, only to notice that there's a twelfth bit now, and the bit's voice... she can't put her finger on it but it's familiar.

Too familiar.

Suletta's always been smarter than people give her credit for.

She'd recognize her brother anywhere.

And she finally asks, after the duel or something, not expecting an answer, hoping she's wrong: “...onii-san?” in a quiet, hesitant voice.

She doesn't want to be right.

She wants to be right.

To which the bit replies, in a garbled voice, “Yes.”

But how did he die? What was he feeling in the moments leading up to it?

His narrative time as an insert character was about to be up, he knows he's gonna die, and like with a heart attack he feels the Dread settle in— not the jittery kind of “something's coming” that he often feels as an instinct, no. The kind that says, “that something is here.”

He is taken from the hospital by Prospera and her accomplices, all parties involved knowing what she has in store for him. She takes him to Aerial and just as she's about to upload him into the Data Storm—

He takes her hand.

“I'm not Ericht. Neither me nor Suletta. But it can still matter, right? Our— Our efforts. Our dreams. GUND-ARM. It matters, right, mom? M—Mom. You won't ruin it, right? You'll let it— let it live— right, right? Mom? Please, mom. I— I don't wanna— don't, don't do— don't. —ant to... to l— Sulet—ta— (El4n's new name)— J—Jeru— some—someone— no, no, I don't—”

Aka, he dies terrified for everyone and everything, scared that despite his efforts in disrupting the plot it might all be for naught and things will course-correct and Prospera will... Yeah. You know.

At some point during his frantic speech Prospera takes the hand he's been holding and covers his eyes.

The pain ends abruptly, and he's... well, inside. With the other Children of the Coven.

The twelfth GUND-bit.

And lately I've been getting more and more fond about the idea of Prospera nudging Shaddiq and El4n into cooperating with Quiet Zero— she wants Shaddiq to kill Delling and take the presidency. Miorine is... complicated. She's the one keeping the GUND ideals of medical application, saving lives, despite being the daughter of the man that ordered their slaughter. It's complicated, and El's desperate pleas shifted... something, in her. So she spares Miorine for now, until she can figure out what she'll do next. In the meantime, Shaddiq is the unfortunate target.

Wouldn't it be fun if Prospera and Shaddiq actually team up? Against Benerit and Spacians as a whole? Quiet Zero will surely give Earthians enough power to strong-arm some negotiations, and well...

Shaddiq now also has someone stuck beyond the Data Storm that he'll want to give a second chance at life to.

Thankfully due to Ellyus' influence Shaddiq is... less destructive than in canon, more on the lines of collaborating w GUND-ARM for disaster relief and stuff, uniting the various factions on Earth into a single unified front, he finally fucking learned that destructive means alone won't help people so yeah. He still has a lot of cunning fire in him though, and plots for Delling's death and snatch the presidency.

El4n isn't so stoked about Prospera— He unfortunately sees parallels between Bel/Peil and Prospera (what he knows now from El's post-mortem messages plus all the little hints while he was still alive certainly doesn't help), he only has to hear “We're not the ones that matter, Suletta and I. We'll never be Samayas. You understand.” once and alarm bells are going off in his head.

At some point he angrily demands Prospera: “Did El ever matter to you? Does Suletta?”

But he does go along, because he feels it's unfair that he was saved by Ellyus (he who wasn't even sure if he wanted to live or not, a puppet without a purpose) and yet he couldn't do the same for El.

Suletta is unsure about all this. She's doubting and second-guessing Prospera's goals— she isn't sure if this Quiet Zero thing won't end horribly like Ellyus was worried it would (post-mortem messages hello). She doesn't know if this is what Ellyus would've wanted and... I don't know. I don't know how things will proceed from her end just yet.

Some miscellaneous stuff:

Ellyus and El4n are the only ones allowed to call Shaddiq by his birth name Jeru Ogul, and in private. It's a sign of trust— Shaddiq keeps it under twenty layers of masks, a reminder for the Earthian boy he once was, fuel for what he must do. He's literally never trusted anyone with this tender heart of hearts before this. Before them.

Ellyus' nickname is El, as you might've noticed. Suletta wanted to call him Elly/Ellie when she was young, but he suggested El instead— because “it's cute, but that's not my name”. It's because Elly/Ellie would be written the same as Eri in katakana: エリ, and he... he doesn't want to bear Eri's name for all that he's fond of her (he got to hear Eri's little speech from Lfrith's pov after all). El would be written as エル, sharing the beginning of Elnora (エルノラ). Though... his full name エリユス does have “Eri” hidden inside it.

Since from what we've seen of the girls' bedroom of Earth House, I guess it's safe to say that boys also share a room w bunk beds, though El4n might receive a bed he still worms his way onto El's. They cuddle.

The Earth House kids have a groupchat. Chaos ensue.

El5n is most definitely involved in the project to burn Peil Technologies even if I don't have a solid plan on when and how.

There's... a lot more of this AU I haven't included in this post but I'll cut things off here, for fear of the post getting too long. I don't think that many people will be interested in my stuff anyways, but it sure felt nice to get this off my chest. So thank you so much for the ask!

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 1 – STONY FAVORITES

In Which Tony Stark Builds Himself Some Friends (But His Family Was Assigned By Nick Fury): Series by scifigrl47

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Clint/Coulson Rating: M Words: 343,010 Tags: Team as Family, Slow Burn Romance, Hilarious Banter

Reasons why I love it: If you've been in this fandom for any amount of time, you've probably read or at least heard of this series. For good reason too, because scifigrl47 created an absolute masterpiece here. It's still ongoing, so I'm only going to be commenting on the complete works, but either way this one is definitely a must-read.

This series consists of:

Some Things Shouldn't Be A Chore

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Clint/Coulson Rating: T Words: 22,187 Tags: Humor, Fluff, Sentient Toaster

Summary: Steve takes things like personal responsibility and respect seriously. Tony's got people he pays to take care of that kind of thing, and anyway, he's pretty sure that he's going to die of some exotic disease in his workshop, because Dummy's still a little spotty about what is 'clean' enough to put on an open wound. The rest of the Avengers are in this for personal gain, except for Clint, he just enjoys being a dick. And some things shouldn't be a chore.

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah Tony, my love! The characterization feels so real, the humor is top notch, and the hurt/comfort is chef's kiss! I love this fic so much, definitely give it a read!

Ordinary Workplace Hazards, Or SHIELD and OSHA Aren't On Speaking Terms

Pairing: Clint/Coulson, pre-Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 25,992 Tags: Humor, Pre-Slash, Roomba Army of Doom

Summary: Tony Stark has once again engineered something that might well lead to the downfall of Western Civilization. No one's really surprised. This time, however, it might just be the lesser of two evils. Clint and Phil hate playing pickup, but damn, Clint loves the Roombas, and damn, Phil loves Clint, though he's not really sure why sometimes. It's time to play Hide-And-Seek with hostile robotic AIs in the SHIELD home office.

Reasons why I love it: I ship Clint/Coulson to hell and back, so I squee every time I read this one. Clint and Tony bickering while being BAMFs is always a win, and who doesn't love Coulson and Steve freaking out over their loved ones' safety? A wonderful fic laden with action and comedy, go and check it out!

Four (Or Five) Reasons for Kidnapping Tony Stark

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Clint/Coulson Rating: T Words: 78,101 Tags: BAMF Tony Stark, Kidnapping, Team as Family

Summary: There are four reasons for kidnapping Tony Stark. Tony's sick of all of them. Well, there's potentially a fifth, but it's highly unlikely that Captain America will suddenly fulfill THAT fantasy. Tony's deeply disappointed about that. Steve Rogers, as always, is oblivious. At least, that is, until someone who isn't him kidnaps Tony. Then he's just pissed.

Reasons why I love it: This is one of the first fics I read in this fandom, and it's what drew me into the whole world of Steve and Tony in the first place. I love the asymmetrical storytelling, the suspense, the drama, the angst, the humor, the resolution, all of it! The plot is so fricking creative, and the fact that all five reasons for kidnapping Tony Stark are explored in such a varied way just wows me. One of my favorite fics of all time!

Dating The Long Way Around

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Clint/Coulson Rating: M Words: 66,979 Tags: Dating, Humor, Domestic

Summary: Tony Stark was pretty sure the Universe had it out for him. Call it karma, or the natural balance, but on occasion, he had a sneaking suspicion that for every good thing that happened to him, something bad was waiting around the corner. That being the case, his first real date with Steve Rogers would probably lead to something disastrous. But in that he was, in fact, going on his first real date with Steve, he wasn't sure he cared. Steve was certain he didn't. It's a Thursday night in New York City, what can possibly go wrong?

Reasons why I love it: The team being dorks about Stony's first date? Steve being an insecure wreck? The FLIRTING?!?? Hell fucking yes to all of that!! And when the plot hits, it just takes the fic to a whole other level. I love it to bits, and I think you will too!

Things Unseen (That Are Captured on Film)

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Clint/Coulson Rating: M Words: 42,476 Tags: Fighting And Making Up, Domestic Avengers, Developing Relationship

Summary: In which the Avengers discover the video footage of Tony testing the Iron Man armor, and that goes about as well as it could be expected. Steve Rogers attempts to make peace with his lover's rather cavalier attitude to his health and safety, and starts learning more about Tony's family along the way, both the one he was born into, and the one he's chosen. And, of course, the one that's chosen him. Subtitled: It's all Clint's fault. No one is surprised.

Reasons why I love it: If you sometimes get that itch of 'oh man, I wish character x would react to that thing character z did', then this one is for you. I absolutely love the idea of everyone watching Tony's reckless tests and being appropriately horrified. Plus, the following conflict and resolution is written beautifully, so yeah, definitely give this one a read.

Hollow Your Bones Like a Bird's

Pairing: Clint/Coulson, pre-Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 95,514 Tags: Fix-It, Teambuilding, Coulson Lives

Summary: In the wake of the Chitauri invasion, Clint Barton wakes up in a world that he very nearly had a hand in destroying. And confronting a loss he might not be able to cope with. The Avengers always needed something to avenge, but once the crisis is past, what keeps them together?

Reasons why I love it: Ladies and gents and my non-binary friends, we've got angst! Clint's struggles are so visceral that I get completely sucked into the fic, no matter how many times I read it. It's heart-breaking and lovely in equal measure, and the resolution is worth all the pain. Clint is one of my favorite characters, so the way his trauma is explored in this fic is just incredible to me. Definitely, DEFINITELY check this one out!