#There are several orange children floating about

[bearphase]

This is Brynn Hecking, one of Violet'sschool friends.

[blurredcolour]

Frostbite & Mistletoe

Summary: An extremely long shift at a Christmas tree lot brings an unexpected customer with an unusual request. Agreeing to help Austin Butler acquire a Christmas tree leads you down a path of rather unexpected events.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Language, Holiday Fluff, Christmas Trees, Car Trouble, Cold, Snow, Exhaustion, Allusions to Mental Health Struggles, Mature/Explicit Themes [Hickeys/Love Bites, Oral – m/f receiving, Condoms, Lube, Manual Stimulation – m/f receiving, Penetrative Sex] – 18+ Only

Author’s Note: This is pure fantasy! While it’s fun to think of going home with a random celebrity, please try to be more circumspect in real life! Also - Thank you for your suspension of disbelief about the weather!

Word Count: 6179

Just twenty minutes more. In twenty minutes, you would be free of the longest day of your life.

Cincinnati, Ohio was certainly not the coldest place on earth but eight hours outside in an unprotected Christmas tree lot had chilled you to the bone. It was a tradition of yours, to volunteer for a few shifts and help raise money for the children’s hospital. It had proven to be one of those winter days where the temperature dropped by the hour and the person scheduled to take over for you never showed up.

Meanwhile, the weather had done nothing to deter the steady flow of customers. So as the sky clouded over, you had agreed to stay and help the next shift until closing at eight. Nineteen minutes to go. Walking down the aisles in your bright orange hi-vis vest, you were tidying and cataloguing the remaining trees. Yet another thing on the never-ending list of shortages and inflated prices. Demand was high as everyone was throwing themselves headlong into a holiday season with every cliché trimming. It was only day one and a third of the stock was already sold.

Over-sized, fluffy snowflakes had been gently falling for the past two hours; so light that they seemed to defy gravity, hanging in the air or some even floating back upwards. If one had to pick the best kind of snow, that would have to be it. The strains of Frank Sinatra’s Christmas Waltz reached your ears for what felt like the hundredth time that day, but you were practically euphoric at the prospect of going home in eighteen minutes and allowed your feet to shuffle across the snow-covered asphalt as you waltzed along to the music.

Frosted windowpanes

Candles gleaming inside

Painted candy canes

On the tree

Seventeen minutes. Spinning dramatically, you turned up the next aisle to continue tidying and collecting inventory.

It’s that time of year

“When the world falls in love, every song you hear…”

Your feet stumbled to an awkward stop as a rich, male voice joined in with Old Blue Eyes from right behind you. You turned quickly to see what you guessed was a long, lanky man bundled up in several layers including a baseball cap, hoodie, and peacoat. A man with azure eyes that were sparkling with mirth at having caught you waltzing to Christmas music in a tree lot.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you stop…it’s just such a good song…” He grinned, the movement drawing your eyes to his plush, pink lips framed by a golden-blonde goatee.

You hugged your clipboard to your chest as though it were armour that could protect you from your mortification.

“D…do you need any assistance?” You asked, forcing a professionally pleasant expression despite your embarrassment.

“Well…” He chuckled awkwardly, pulling at his lower lip with long, chilled-looking fingers. “I do have a bit of an odd request? I really, really want a tree, but I don’t have a car…Do you do delivery at all? I’d be happy to pay…”

You stared at him, brain struggling to process his request after such a long day.

“But…how did you get here?!” You blurted and winced as maybe that was not the best tone.

“Walked…” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m in town on business and pass by here every day with my driver. I came as soon as I could, but I don’t think I can carry a whole tree back to my rental…”

You swallowed thickly, closing the distance to an appropriate conversation proximity.

“How many blocks?” You asked, looking up at him. Definitely tall.

“Maybe ten?” He cocked an eyebrow, and you felt your throat tighten as you realized you had seen that face before. On a movie screen. On a tv screen. “Look I brought $200 to make it happen, happy to donate it to the cause…well causes. Your hospital and my sanity.” His laugh rang a little hollow.

Swallowing painfully, you managed to clear your throat.

“We close in…” You glanced at your watch. “Fifteen minutes. I have a roof-rack, I can help you.” You smiled softly, hoping to cheer him a little.

The way his eyes lit up…well, like a Christmas tree…brought warmth back into the chilled cheeks. His smile was infectious, and you felt the tired muscles of your face stretch to echo his grin. You took a moment to properly introduce yourself before getting back to business.

“So…what kind of tree are you looking for?” You asked.

He shrugged with an adorable, hopeless expression and shrug of his shoulders. You could not help the laugh that tumbled from your lips.

“Long needles or short?” You started simple.

“Short, like a fake tree but real.” He nodded authoritatively.

“Ok then, let’s walk away from these scotch pines.” You chuckled and led him over to the fir trees.

Working with his description of the space he wanted to fill, you helped him choose a six-foot douglas fir. You moved to pick it up, but he beat you to it, slinging the bundled tree over his shoulder. You paused a moment to appreciate the sheer physical presence of him before swallowing again tightly and leading him up to the cashier. He handed over his two one-hundred-dollar bills to the bewildered woman who, upon your explanation, beamed and tucked it into the cash box.

You handed in your inventory list to the site leader who thanked you for working a double with a great big hug. You shook your head warmly and promised to see him again next weekend, leading Austin over to your somewhat dated, compact SUV. The snow was falling thicker now, clinging to both of your outerwear, making everything dramatically whiter as you strapped the tree to your roof-rack.

“Do you know if your rental has a hacksaw?” You asked curiously.

“Yes! Yes, I checked that. There’s a tree stand, a whole box of decorations, and everything I need…except the tree.” He beamed proudly and you felt warmth emanating from your chest.

“And you’ve fixed that now too. Hop in.” You shook off some of the snow and slid into the driver’s seat as he did the same, sliding in across from you.

The vehicle seemed just as tired as you, the engine turning over sluggishly before it finally roared to life, and you found yourself able to exhale the breath you’d been holding. You cranked the heat before heading out into the rapidly accumulating snow.

“Well, I guess it’s fully winter now…” You muttered and followed his directions to a small home fairly close to downtown.

As your limbs began to thaw, a bone-deep ache of exhaustion bloomed throughout your body. You could not wait to crawl into the tub and stay there for hours, topping up the hot water as needed. You pulled into the driveway. Perched on the doorsills, the two of you worked together to untie the tree before you jumped down to help ease the tree to the ground as he slid it off the back. The angle cause all the accumulated snow on the tree to cascade onto your head and down the gap at the back of your collar. The pathetic gasp was completely involuntary, causing him to leap down and quickly take the tree, looking you over.

“Are you alright?!” He asked, resting the weight of it against his body and gently dusted the snow from your head and shoulders. “I’m so sorry…”

You smiled up at him wearily and shook your head.

“I should have seen that coming…” You sighed ruefully and carried the tree up to the porch.

Making sure the stand was ready in the living room, you held the tree as he cut a slice off the bottom of the trunk, under your instructions. You could tell he wasn’t the most natural handyman, but precision was not a huge concern here. Using the screws in the stand, you made sure the tree was standing up straight before filling the well with fresh water.

“You need to water it every day.” You instructed him as you ensured the heating vent behind the tree was closed. “And never leave the lights on when you’re not home.”

“Thank you.” He smiled as he saw you back out to your car. “Really, you have saved the holidays for me, thank you.” He repeatedly earnestly and held his arms open. “May I give you a hug?” He asked before sinking his teeth into his lower lip.

You regarded him with wide eyes for a moment before nodding shyly as you looked to the side and shuffled forward into those open arms. He wrapped them around you tightly, surrounding you in warmth and the heady scent of cinnamon and black pepper. Your exhaustion had you forgetting all sense of propriety as you leaned into his chest with a deep, contented sigh. You’d never fit so well into someone’s arms before…

With one last squeeze, he pulled back slightly.

“I should let you get home; you must be exhausted.” He smiled gently and you nodded, dumbstruck at how truly gorgeous this man was.

“I’m crawling into a hot bath and staying there until tomorrow.” You managed to murmur and tensed as you realized you were close enough to feel, as well as see, the warm puffs of air falling from his lips. “Have a good night.” You said quickly as you pulled back and waved somewhat awkwardly before climbing into the car.

As that sluggish, shuddering sound emanated from your engine once more, your initial reaction was denial. It worked last time, you just needed to try again. And again. And…and then it wasn’t even making a sound at all. You pressed your forehead to the steering wheel, taking deep calming breaths as the temptation to just cry was overwhelming. Thankfully you remembered your AAA membership and quickly dug out your phone and membership card.

Austin knocked on your window and you rolled it down.

“I’m gonna call for a boost…” You sighed and dialed the number on the back of the card.

“Come inside before you get frostbite…” He insisted, opening your door. You sighed as the recorded voice assured you ‘your call is important to us’ and followed him in without argument. It was nowhere near cold enough for frostbite, but his concern was genuine and touching.

You sat at the kitchen island and quietly watched him get a kettle boiling as the overly cheerful hold music played in your ear. As he shucked off his winter coat and pulled off his hoodie, you gulped audibly at the peek of his tanned, toned abdomen as his white t-shirt caught on the fabric.

“Put it on speaker, I don’t mind. Let me take your coat so you can warm up properly.” He smiled and held out his hand as you quietly obeyed. You could not help but watch the way his bicep bunched at the weight of your sodden jacket.

“Hello this is John speaking, how may I help you?” A human voice suddenly filled the room and you fumbled with the phone to answer as he took your coat to hang it up to dry.

“Six hours?!” You cried out incredulously at the service estimate and the agent issued a litany of apologies. You were furious and seriously questioning why you paid for this service, but poor John sounded just as tired as you felt, and you knew it wasn’t his fault. “Ok, thanks.” You ended the call and looked to Austin pathetically as he filled two mugs with tea bags and boiling water.

“Must be the cold and all the snow out there…” He murmured sympathetically.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll get a cab or something and come back when they call.” You opened your ride share app and gasped at the wait times. Your last-ditch effort was the taxi app, but the fare estimate was murder.

Sliding a mug of tea to you, Austin leaned in.

“This is entirely my fault, please. Please just stay here until they can come.” He looked up at you pleading through his lashes. “There isn’t a tub but there’s a shower and I can get your clothes dry and…”

You blinked back tears of frustration yet again and took a shaky breath. The snow dump that had covered you had now melted in the warmth of his rental and had water dripping from the ends of your hair onto your shirt. Completely disarmed by cold and fatigue, you were helpless against that look. That pleading.

“Ok…” You breathed meekly and sniffed. “Sorry, it’s just been a hell of a day…” You apologized, gesturing at tears that had snuck into your eyes despite your best efforts.

He pulled you in for another reassuring hug and you sighed warmly.

“No apologies” He smiled and stepped back, holding out his hand. “C’mon, shower’s this way.”

You took it slowly with yours, marveling at the way his warm skin completely enveloped yours, making you shiver deeply.

“You’re freezing…” He frowned and tugged you to your feet before leading you quickly down the hall, past the stairs. “Robe for you to wear, stay as long as you like. Lock on the door too.” He touched the items as he mentioned them before stepping out to leave you in peace.

Stripping off your wet clothes, you stepped into the warm spray of the shower with a deep moan, not being mindful of your volume at all. It just felt far too good. You shuffled back to sit on the shower bench and let your skin soak in the warm water. After a good ten minutes you finally felt the ache and tension leave your muscles. Coming to your feet, you borrowed whatever was in the shower to wash your hair and body before you turned off the water. Stepping out in a cloud of steam, you towelled off before pulling your underclothes back on, putting the robe on top.

Carrying your damp clothes, you rejoined him in the kitchen, smiling softly to see him ladling hot soup into bowls.

“That was a lot shorter than I thought you’d be.” He smiled. “But I’ve got dinner ready!”

“Truly, this is beyond generous, thank you very, very much.” You shook your head in awe.

“Here let me put those in the dryer really quick. You eat.” He set a bowl and spoon on the counter and snagged your clothes before disappearing downstairs.

Sitting down, you dug in happily, groaning a little a how hungry you suddenly realized you were. You’d eaten nearly half before he reappeared to join you, chuckling and giving you a few pieces of bread to mop up every last drop. He sat beside you, eating his own bowl as you leaned heavily on the counter, making small talk about the weather or something. Honestly, now that you were fed and warm, you found it quite difficult to keep your eyes open.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch…” He offered generously and you nodded, shuffling after him.

You grabbed the thick, cozy blanket that was draped over the back of it and wrapped it around your legs before sitting down carefully. Through your drooping eyelids as you watched him turn on the gas fireplace.

“So how long do I have to wait to decorate again?” He asked as he sat down at the other end of the couch.

Inhaling through your nose while rolling your shoulders back, you tried to wake yourself.

“A couple of hours. The branches will relax, and you’ll smell the pine when it’s ready.” You nodded before giving in to the temptation to rest your head back against the couch. You briefly felt a surge of guilt as you had a fleeting recognition that you were falling asleep but were too far gone to do a thing about it.

The sound of soft curses, muttered under Austin’s breath, sunk into your consciousness and your eyes flashed open. You were fully curled up on the couch, tucked under the blanket, and Austin was fighting with a tangled string of tree lights on the floor before you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry…” You hastily apologized and sat up.  “How long was I asleep?”

He glanced at you before clearing his throat and looking back to the task before him. You glanced down at the gaping robe and quickly covered yourself, pulling the belt tight again.

“A couple. Don’t worry about it, I had some work to do. But now, now it’s time to decorate this tree. As long as I can get these untangled.” He muttered bitterly and you carefully slid to your knees on the floor across from him.

“Let me help.” You smiled softly and worked patiently at the various snags until all the lights were stretched out and ready to wrap the tree.

You looked over to it, smiling as it did indeed look perfectly ready to decorate.

“You picked a very nice one.” You carried the first string over to begin weaving the lights through the branches.

He beamed brightly and you were grateful that the tree bore the brunt of that blinding smile. For two people who had only met a few hours before, there was remarkably no sniping, and no heated comments as you worked together on a typically frustrating task. You were about halfway up the tree, and thus far your soundtrack had been Austin humming snippets of an assortment of holiday songs. The brief contact of his fingers against yours as you handed off the string of lights caused shivers of electricity to flash across your skin. You snuck glances at his profile while he was busily weaving the lights on his side of the tree, and felt, more than saw, him doing the same – the heat of his gaze tingling along your skin. He always looked away when you raised your head, however. That is until his eyes deliberately sought yours through the curtain of pine needles.

“May I ask you a question?” He asked solemnly.

His tone of voice was so serious it made you hesitate, uncertain if you were honestly awake enough to engage in a meaningful conversation while half-inserted into a tree. Straightening your back, you nodded, trying to convince yourself that there was little he could ask that would be truly catastrophic.

“Sure” You nodded, hoping your tone registered as light and care-free.

“Do you consider Die Hard to be a Christmas movie?” He continued in that serious tone but that spark of mischief was back in those sapphire eyes.

You stared at him, jaw slack, stunned. Leaning around the tree, trying to read if this was a joke of not, you saw his lips trembling with the effort not to smirk.

“I was fully prepared for you to ask me something….I don’t know, sensitive?!” You exclaimed with a guffaw of laughter.

“Some people find this a very sensitive topic!” He countered before losing control of his face and breaking out into giggles.

You could not help but join in, letting your head fall back as your laughter came from deep inside you, somehow erasing a large portion of your disgruntlement over the events of your no-good, terrible day. Eventually you were able to contain yourself and you cleared your throat before answering.

“Absolutely. It takes place during a Christmas party, features Christmas music, and Hans Gruber even says ‘ho ho ho’” You nodded emphatically.

“Ho, ho, ho” He grinned as he delivered a very convincing impersonation of Alan Rickman’s German accent.

After the laughter subsided you tilted your head.

“In that same vein….Is Hallelujah a Christmas song?” The lights were winding higher and it was a bit of a stretch for you….not for him though.

“Absolutely not.” He replied firmly, lips drawing into a thin line as he shook his head. “It’s literally about an intense and painful relationship. Nothing festive. Not even in the same orbit as the holidays.”

You nodded in agreement.

“This tree-decorating partnership can continue.” You grinned. “Though, I might just be support at this point.” You commented as he easily wrapped the lights all the way to the top before plugging the string into the star.

“Now we see how it looks!” He said excitedly, turning off the overhead light before plugging in the tree.

The glow of the multi-coloured lights was a comforting as a hug from each one of your holiday memories delivered directly to your heart.

“Incredible…” He sighed contentedly and you nodded, somewhat speechless.

You turned to look up at him, recalling that sense of heavy sadness he’d had when discussing his sanity back in the tree lot, and swallowed to see hit tanned face lit by both the tree and the firelight. He was a work of art come to life before your very eyes. The lines of worry had also eased across his features, leaving an adorable exuberance. You had a feeling that the duality of this man could easily obsess scholars for centuries…

So deep in your own thoughts you were, that you did not notice that his own eyes were tracing your features in turn, a contemplative expression falling over his face.

“Are you up to some more decorating?” He asked softly and you watched the way his lips caressed the words he spoke.

“Mmmmhm” You intoned, biting your lip at the hum of desire in your lower abdomen.

The glare of passing headlights beaming through the front window jarred you from your state and you cleared your throat, quickly kneeling to unpack the rest of the decorations from the box. You had already thrown caution to the wind and put yourself in a very vulnerable position with a total, albeit famous, stranger. There was no need to make it more complicated…despite the throb between your thighs.

“Definitely a coordinated person’s decorations…” You chuckled softly as you pulled eight boxes of matching Christmas ornaments in neutral shades.

Kneeling down across you he chuckled softly.

“Given how they decorated the rest of the house, this does not surprise me at all.” He hung a couple of them on his fingers before taking them to the tree to continue decorating.

Collecting your own assortment, you focused on the lower branches, being sure to reach in and hang some closer to the trunk to give the tree dimension. You did not notice the way the branches of the tree pulled at the robe, loosening it once more. Nor the way that it slipped off your shoulder as you knelt over the remaining boxes of ornaments, opening them up for ease of access. That is, until he knelt beside you, tracing the backs of his fingers across your shoulder and down your bicep. You shivered softly as his touch raised goosebumps in its wake.

“Mmmm sorry…” He murmured and leaned in to press an apologetic kiss to your skin with lips that felt just as soft as you had imagined. “Your skin just looks so soft…” He whispered, the tickle of his facial hair making you gasp raggedly.

As his eyes snapped to yours at that sound, a thrill of heat ran through you at their noticeably darker appearance. His lips stretched into something markedly predatory as he raised an eyebrow before slowly raising his eyes to the ceiling above you. You hesitated a moment before tilting your head back to follow his gaze, your entire body freezing at the sight of a swag of artificial mistletoe hanging from the light fixture. Leaning in, you felt his goatee tickle against your ear.

“Caught you…” He murmured.

The way his lips and warm breath caressed your skin made you tremble from head to toe. A choked-off sigh fell from his lips, and you turned your face towards his, noses brushing due to his proximity. Your eyes flicked up to his before falling back to his lips. You’d done the ‘right’ thing all damn day and it had led to an accidental double and a dead car. Now? Now you were going to do what you wanted.

“Better kiss me…don’t want any more bad luck…” You breathed shakily.

“Very true…” He whispered in return, hands rising to frame your face as he leaned in to close the last few inches of distance between you.

With a tilt of his head, he fit his lips firmly against yours. Your eyelids fluttered closed at the silky warmth of his mouth, your body turning towards his full as you reached up to cup his cheeks in return. He pulled back a little, looking over your face as your heavy breaths mingled in the space between you. You glanced up at his eyes briefly before pulling his lips back against yours, sighing happily. Licking at the seam of his lips, your tongue begged entrance.

He grunted happily and hungrily greeted your tongue with his, one hand traveling down your throat and over your shoulder to press against the flesh of your back beneath the robe, pulling you closer. You raised up on your knees to correct the height differential and raked your hands through his carefully tousled hair. You delighted in carding your hands through it, disordering it completely. A mutual need for air had your lips parting and you quickly pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his sharp jawline and down his neck to lap at the hollow of his throat.

With a soft growl, and eager arch of his neck, his hands moved to grasp the backs of your thighs and haul you up to straddle his lap. You whimpered against his damp skin and licked a wide stripe up along his adam’s apple back towards his lips. He caught your lips in a searing kiss, tongue pressing into your mouth eagerly, making you both hum happily at the delicious feeling of his wet muscle sliding against yours.

Wriggling a little, you encouraged the robe to gape open completely, allowing you to settle fully against the growing bulge in his jeans. His fingers slid up under the edges of the robe to grip at the skin of your hips, chest rumbling eagerly as you undulated against him. Pulling back, your chest heaved as you mewled at the feel of his teeth nibbling at your lower lip. Gripping at his shoulders, you ground against him with more intent, shivering as you felt his hands yanking at the knot in the robe’s sash. You dropped your hands to help him slide it completely from your body.

Supporting your spine with his forearm, he swept the ornament boxes to the side and lay you back on the plush rug. You stared up at him in awe as the glow of the fire caressed his features from behind you while the Christmas lights painted a riot of colour onto him from the side.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” You let the thoughts tumble from your lips without even trying to hold back.

You watched as he drank in your figure, only your underclothes obscuring his view, thumb and forefinger pinching and pulling at his lower lip.

“Bold words from a heavenly creature like yourself…” He whispered in a hushed sort of awe before covering your body with his, suckling your collarbone as his free hand traced along the planes of your chest and abdomen.

Arching into his touch needily, you began to gather the back of his t-shirt into your fists, pulling the hem higher before you tugged it up to his shoulders. He rose up briefly to shed the interfering cotton before quickly divesting you of your underclothes, baring you completely to his heated gaze.

“To think I got to unwrap you under my Christmas tree.” He grinned lopsidedly, eyes twinkling with that mischief as you rolled your own playfully at his seasonal corniness.

Chuckling to himself, he dragged his lips along your collarbone before kissing down your sternum. He briefly diverted to flick his tongue across each of your nipples before he continued his journey down your body. The muscles of your abdomen flinched at the tickle of his facial hair, making you chuckle breathlessly. His eyes, now nearly black as his pupils had devoured the blue of his irises, watched your face intently as he skipped over the desperate place that wanted his touch the most before pressing his lips to your right knee cap. His long fingers wrapped around the outside of your thighs and gently, yet insistently, parted your legs.

Sealing his lips around the tender flesh of your inner thigh, he sucked at your skin eagerly, drawing a shuddering gasp from beneath your breastbone.

“Austin…” You exhaled the extra oxygen that had brought into your lungs, fingers once again twining into his sandy locks.

He fairly purred against you before pulling back, licking his lips as he turned his head to treat your other thigh to the same, if only a little closer to where you really wanted his mouth. His fingers massaged your outer thighs as he sucked a series of deep purple marks higher and higher on your inner thighs until you were quivering with need.

“Please…” You keened and tugged on his hair as you felt his hot, damp exhales against the source of your pleasure, back arching and hips squirming as you ached for his mouth.

“Who am I to deny you…” He replied, voice roughened by desire before he, at last, lay his mouth against you.

Your anguished moan echoed through the room as you clenched your eyes shut tightly, chest heaving, breaths harsh. His hands wrapped around your hips, holding them down as they were bucking against his face needily. The familiar tingling began to blossom at the base of your spine, making your toes curl and heels dig into the rug.

“I’…I’m close…Austin!” You gasped out and then whimpered as he pulled his mouth away, eyes flashing open to watch him lick at his goatee-framed lips.

“Just wait right here…” He rasped; voice notably deeper.

He pressed a brief but fierce kiss to your lips before rising to his feet. You gnawed on your lower lip at the distinct outline of his cock in his jeans before he disappeared up the stairs. He was not gone a full minute before he returned with a bottle of lube at the telltale foil packet of a condom.  Pushing yourself up with unsteady arms, you reached out to take said items from him to free up his hands. Setting them aside you waited until he stretched out on the rug beside you before pushing him to his back, pining him by straddling his hips as you kissed him hungrily.

He groaned hungrily into kiss as you ground along the length of him through his jeans before sliding back onto his thighs and working his belt and fly open. Inserting your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you raised up to strip him entirely in one greedy motion, tossing the clothing aside as you settled back onto his thighs. Drinking in the sight of his needy cock, you picked up the bottle of lube, delighting in the way his length twitched as you drizzled it with the slick substance.

Your name fell from his lips needily as he gripped your thighs, hips straining towards you, raised from the rug. You swallowed thickly as you wrapped your hand around his girth, rutting against his thighs at the noise of pure sin that emanated from his throat. You could not get enough of the way expressions of pleasure flitted across his features as you traced his tip with your thumb before sliding your fist up and down the length of him torturously slow. His breathing was beginning to shallow, abdominal muscles trembling when you pulled your hand back. A taste of his own medicine while also ensuring he would last long enough to put that impressive cock inside you.

His eyes flashed open with a slight glare, but he sat up and grabbed the sides of your jaw, pulling you close for a sloppy kiss full of teeth and tongues. Groping blindly, you managed to locate a pillow on the couch and pulled it down to set it on the ground beside him, pulling back to stretch out on your front, hips propped up on said pillow as you looked at him meaningfully.

He did not need any further instruction, taking the lube in hand as he coated his fingers before easing them into your entrance with thoughtful patience.

“Fuck, look at you all needy and on offer for me…” He groaned and you pressed your forehead into the rug, shuddering with a groan of your own as he worked you open, preparing you for his sizeable length.

He pulled his fingers from you, and you canted your hips back, chasing the feeling as you glanced back at him over your shoulder. You watched with hooded eyes as he carefully rolled the protective latex over his cock, pumping it a few times indulgently, before stretching out over your body. Sinking into you slowly, inch by inch, you moan deeply at the stretch and fullness of him.

“Oh Austin!” You cried out, curling your fingers into rug.

“I know, oh fuck, I know” He panted, hands pressing into the backs of yours, fingers sliding between yours once he was seated inside you fully.

You felt his nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck, hips rocking against yours and, in turn, rocking the source of your pleasure into the pillow. You felt that same sucking pressure now against the back of your neck as he slowly slid out before quickly sliding back into you, leaving yet another mark on your body. Keeping your legs tightly together by squeezing them between his knees, he made sure you felt every single ridge and bulging vein of him as his rhythmic thrusts drove you both closer and closer toward release.

Each snap of his hips against yours had your body rocking forward, the rug applying delicious friction to your nipples, ripping pathetic whimpers and keens from you as your thighs between to quiver between his knees.

“You’re…going to…?” He panted against the damp mark on your neck, letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin.

“S’close.” You slurred in the plush fabric beneath you, arching back tightly against his torso.

“Oh yes…please…please…cum…for me….”He rambled, punctuating every few words with an insistent thrust of his hips that had your legs drumming against the floor as your release broke over you in waves of shimmering colour behind your eyelids and a nonsensical wail that ripped from your throat.

Pressing his face into the crook of your shoulder, his thrusts became erratic and sharper until he came with a hoarse cry of your name, rutting against you as he filled the condom. You could feel him trembling from head to toe above you, yet he still managed to carefully pull out and roll to the side before collapsing on the rug between you and the tree.

Resting your cheek against the rug, you drank in his debauched form, painted in ethereal, multicoloured light. Extracting the destroyed pillow from beneath you, you tossed it aside and shuffled to lay on your side next to him. Gently, you freed him from the condom, tying it closed and struggling to your feet to dispose of it in the washroom. Grabbing the blanket from the couch on your return, you cuddled up next to him, wrapping your still-trembling bodies in warmth.

He grinned at you warmly, kissing your forehead. You thought he might fall asleep, but instead he began asking you questions about your life in Cincinnati – job, friends, family, holiday traditions… You grinned a little as you were definitely doing this get-to-know-you thing in the wrong order, but you were happy to answer and ask him questions in kind. You ended up talking for hours in the low light, his fingers tracing the features of your face endlessly. Whenever his fingertips neared your lips, you would press a soft kiss to them. You did not notice who fell asleep first, though it was most likely you. The sounds of your phone ringing, however, jarred you both away in the deep, pre-dawn darkness. You struggled a little to answer it, blinking your brain into focus as a voice on the other end was saying something about your service call arriving soon…Groggily, you asked them to repeat the message before it clicked.

“Oh!” You exclaimed at the sudden return of cognitive function.

Looking down at the drowsy man beside you, his fingers stroking along your arm warmly, you swallowed and shook your head before remembering you needed to speak to communicate during a phone call.

“No longer needed, sorry I didn’t call sooner…no not at all…thank you…” You ended the call and turned to Austin as he sat up and kissed your shoulder warmly. “Bed?” You asked and he nodded quickly, helping you to your feet. You turned off the tree and the fireplace, before the pair of you headed up the stairs where you remained for the next twelve hours.

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

[basic ID in alt, detailed ID below]

i love them more than words can say. already i wish i could listen to the children's adventure for the first time all over again.

[ID: 1. A height chart lineup showing the main characters of The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One side-by-side in the main campaign and the Children's Adventure. In order it is Eursulon, Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro.

Eursulon is a huge bear-like creature standing bipedal on digitigrade legs. As an adult (left) he stands to a height of 220cm. His fur around his ears and forehead resembles the plumage of a horned owl. He has an ursine nose and large tusks, and big, hazel eyes. He has white freckles on his face. He is wearing a long green cloak and beige and brown traveller's garb, and a golden pauldron is partially hidden by his cloak on his shoulder. It has a small dent in it but is well polished. In his right hand (viewer's left) he holds a round wooden shield, and in his left hand he holds an unsheathed sword, Wavebreaker, with pale blue silk lining wrapped around the hilt. He has a neutral expression.

As a child, he was still large at about 145cm tall, but had a rounder face, smaller fangs, and shorter feet. He is unclothed except for his golden pauldron, undented, and instead of a sword he is clutching a broom handle with both paws. He is smiling.

Suvi is a Black human girl who stands at around 183cm as an adult. She has a turquoise afro which is pulled back neatly into a bun and decorated with fine gold chains as well as a round golden censer hanging from the back. She is dressed in a smart Imperial blue uniform with gold and silver trim, and wields in her right hand a crystal staff decorated with the Imperial sigil and wings made of floating shards. In her left hand she holds a book bound in dark blue leather. Instead of wearing glasses, her brown eyes are magically treated, which causes a teal sheen to be visible over her pupils. She is smiling confidently.

As a child, she was about 120cm tall and her hair was still dark brown and not tied back. She has yellow asteria flowers in her hair as well as a pencil and a cool leaf, and wore huge round glasses. She wears a red button-up dress with pockets, stripey white tights, and smart indigo shoes. She clutches a brown canvas-bound book to her chest and looks wide-eyed.

Ame is an East Asian girl who stands at around 150cm as an adult. She has long, dark straight hair and dark brown eyes. She has her right hand on her hip while her left hand adjusts her giant red witch's hat. The hat has a white underside and there is a gold censer attached to the pointed tip. She is wearing a white wrap top patterned with pink petals, and the long flowy sleeves have been buttoned back. She has two bracelets around her left wrist, one is woven lilac and green, and the other is small pink flowers chained together. She has red skirt that resembles a toadstool, with white spots on the cap and pink ruffles under the rim. She also has a white half-apron with several pockets tied to her waist by dark pink cord, which also holds a light brown pouch. She has one skinned knee showing above her flowery pink-and-white socks, and red stompy boots. She is smiling out of the corner of her mouth. Wrapping around her legs is Cool Dog, her fox familiar, eyeing the viewer suspiciously.

As a child, she was extremely small at 100cm. She has a bowl cut and dimples. She wears an oversized yellow shirt with white stripes, the sleeves pushed up past her elbows, and orange dungarees. She has muddy red welly boots, and is wearing the lilac and green bracelet. She is grinning broadly with her eyes shut and holding her fists up near her chest.

Grandmother Wren is an old witch standing at about 155cm with light brown skin and frizzy grey-and-white-streaked hair and brown eyes. She is wearing a dark purple witch's hat with a golden buckle and a curling tip, a knitted lilac shawl around her shoulders, and a cable-knit yellow sweater. She is wearing a stripy half-apron over a floor-length patchwork skirt, and is leaning on a gnarled wooden cane with both hands. She is smiling ruefully. Taro, her rooster familiar, is standing on the brim of her hat.

2. A cropped version of the same drawing, this time including Eursulon's glamoured forms. His glamoured form is a Black human, resembling Suvi as if he were her brother, although his eyes remain hazel and his hair is ginger instead of dark brown. He has dark brown freckles on his face and a gap in his front teeth, although the gap can only be seen in his childhood glamour as he is smiling. As an adult, the glamour is dressed identically to the unglamoured form although he's shorter by about 25cm, and his hair is braided back neatly into a bun. He also has some facial hair on his sideburns. As a child, his hair is shorter and styled into mini locs, and he is wearing a white shirt and green shorts, though still barefoot. He is about 15cm shorter than his unglamoured form.

3. A cropped version of the remaining lineup, showing Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro. /end ID]

[mythologyofblue]

This is the thing: If you have the option to not think about or even consider history, whether you learned it right or not, or whether it even deserves consideration, that’s how you know you’re on board the ship that serves hors d’oeuvres and fluffs your pillows, while others are out at sea, swimming or drowning, or clinging to little inflatable rafts that they have to take turns keeping inflated, people short of breath, who’ve never even heard of the words hors d’oeuvres or fluff.

Then someone from up on the yacht says, "It's too bad those people down there are lazy, and not as smart and able as we are up here, we who have built these strong, large, stylish boats ourselves, we who float the seven seas like kings."

And then someone else on board says something like, "But your father gave you this yacht, and these are his servants who brought the hors d'oeuvres." At which point that person gets tossed overboard by a group of hired thugs who'd been hired by the father who owned the yacht, hired for the express purpose of removing any and all agitators on the yacht to keep them from making unnecessary waves, or even referencing the father or the yacht itself.

Meanwhile, the man thrown overboard begs for his life, and the people on the small inflatable rafts can't get to him soon enough, or they don't even try, and the yacht's speed and weight cause an undertow.

Then in whispers, while the agitator gets sucked under the yacht, private agreements are made, precautions are measured out, and everyone quietly agrees to keep on quietly agreeing to the implied rule of law and to not think about what just happened.

Soon, the father, who put these things in place, is only spoken of in the form of lore, stories told to children at night, under the stars, at which point there are suddenly several fathers, noble, wise forefathers. And the boat sails on unfettered.

-Tommy Orange, There There

[natequarter]

Ok I'll bite. What are the edge chronicles about

do you want the long answer or the short answer? the longer answer is that the edge chronicles are a children's fantasy series set on essentially a giant (and i do mean giant) floating rock. said giant rock is known as the edge, and contains various different biomes, primarily riverrise (kinda an oasis), the deepwoods (a giant, mega dangerous forest), the nightwoods (hardcore deepwoods), the mire (a huge terrible white mud pit which is also incredibly dangerous and later flourishes into a sort of tropical marsh), the twilight woods (somehow even worse than all the hell places previously listed - it basically makes you immortal but amnesiac with almost no chance to escape, not to mention you still age), and the stone gardens (where floating rocks grow in stacks). there are also several major cities, first sanctaphrax and undertown and then great glade, hive, and riverrise. the aforementioned floating rocks are used to make ships float, which creates the leaguesmen who control undertown through trade, and, uh, slavery and murder, and the sky pirates, who are continually at odds with the leagues and also engage in trade, slavery, and murder. there's lots of fantasy species on the edge: about a million different types of goblins, and trolls, waifs, trogs, and so on... humans don't exist; fourthlings, essentially fantasy humans who are a combination of various races, take their place. the edge chronicles take place over various generations, focusing on twig verginix and later his descendants and ancestors. it also tracks the technological growth of the edge, from initially flight rock-powered ships and swords to buoyant wooden skycraft to phrax-powered ships and pistols. it does a lot of wacky fantasy things without ever using magic, and the character work is beautiful. there are so many fucking callbacks. it tackles complex themes like the commodification of water, capitalist greed, and the horrors of war. if a character appears in one saga, they are basically guaranteed to show up somewhere else - it's callbacks galore.

the short answer is that kids fight furry orange creatures which can eat bears in packs. also, dr. frankenstein accidentally reinvents satan.

[zzzallnite]

undefined

- The Escape - 

"Hands in the air!" Officer Sebastian Ruiz yelled at the suspect.

Ruiz has only been working in the force for a couple of year after serving in the Navy. One might say that the experience from being in the military and a policeman would prepare him for anything. But what about to come is not something that one could be prepared for.

Just minutes ago, Ruiz received a radio call about an escaped prisoner. Although unarmed, the wanted man was considered "a severe threat level". "Pfft, what an unarmed man could do?" Ruiz told himself.

The man in the orange jumpsuit complies with Ruiz's order, while slowly turning around to the officer who is having him at gunpoint. When the man is facing Ruiz, he sees that the suspect is having a smug look.

"What are you smiling at? Get on the ground, NOW!" The man's grimace gives the policeman a unnerving feeling. He could see the hands holding his gun starting to shake. However, it isn't him that is shaking. The suspect gives Ruiz a wink, and suddenly his firearm just disassembles by itself into pieces. Ruiz is flabbergasted, trying to understand what was going on. By instinct, he tries to reach for his backup gun, but before he could do so, the suspect flicks his fingers, and Ruiz is sent flying backward by an invisible force.

"THUMP!" Ruiz's fall is cushioned by his own patrol car. No amount of time spent in the gym could prepare the police officer's body for such impact. Ruiz feels a sharp pain running through his body, and the buildings start to swirl and disappear in the darkness of his mind.

The suspect does not even flinch. He stands still at the very spot he was told to lie down, making gestures with his hands. Ruiz's body rises from the mopped vehicle and dangles in the air, slowly floating toward the perpetrator. The strange man examines the knocked out copper; except for a bleeding nose and a bump on the back of his head, Ruiz would be able to see his wife and children for another day. The man begins to move his index finger in a swirling motion, and in turn, Ruiz starts swirling like an ice skater in mid-air. One by one, his clothes fall off his limp body: his leather jacket, white cargo shirt and clip-on tie, belt and gears, shoes and trousers. The only items left on him are his undershirt, boxers and black crew socks. The suspect appears to appreciate the officer's physique, especially his bulging cock; as Ruiz floats to a reachable range for the powered man, he puts his hand up the KO'ed cop's boxers and fondles his 6 inches cock.

"Ruiz, come in! Come in Ruiz!" A voice coming though Ruiz's radio interrupts the action, but the police officer is unfortunately too unconscious to answer at the moment. The suspect quickly puts on the stolen outfit using the power of his mind, and after he is satisfied with the strangely perfectly fit uniform, he gestures his hands and Ruiz's body is slowly raised until it is tenderly laid flat on a nearby roof top. Even with Ruiz out of sight, the telekinetic man manages to use his power to handcuff the copper to a pipe.

The disguised suspect tries to mimic the officer's voice on the radio, "Copy. No sign of the suspect. Over." With a single raise of eyebrow, the man immediately unmops the patrol car's lid. Ruiz props himself up just in time for him to see the suspect uses his keys and starts the engine. Ruiz once again is hit with the pounding ache as he watch the mysterious man drives away and disappear in the night and when his head couldn't bear the pain any longer, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he falls back to unconsciousness, waiting for backup to come rescuing him.

[cecilysass]

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers (5/5)

Read on AO3 | Rated M | Tagging @today-in-fic

Thanksgiving Day 2023

He originally started calling the kid Mick because she bore a certain resemblance to Mick Jagger as a baby, and it stuck.

At first this drove Scully crazy, and she would beg him to please try using the name they carefully selected for their daughter at birth. But as in all other things, he wore her down, and now he smiles triumphantly when he hears Scully using the nickname, too. Truthfully, no one in their family regularly uses the name carefully selected for them at birth – not Mick’s parents, not Mick’s brother – so Mulder doesn’t see why Mick should be any different.

Mick bears a certain coloring book outline resemblance to Scully: the shape of her body, her size, the texture of her hair. In all other details and in the substance of her personality she is a carbon copy of Mulder, a circumstance that both delights and concerns her mother.

When it was time for Mick to start kindergarten, Mulder’s anxiety spiked alarmingly. Not only because there was still a pandemic, not only because he was a paranoid sixtysomething stay-at-home parent with a laundry list of traumas, but because he was simply very attached to Mick. He liked having her around. She was his focus, his new work, his best and ultimate X-file.

When he floated the idea that he might homeschool her, Scully was sincerely appalled. Mulder and Mick already had hours-long conversations in the kitchen about evolutionary adaptations and Eastern spirituality, and she had begun to worry what Mick would be like as a ten-year old. As a 16-year old. As a 30-year old.

Actually, she worried she knew exactly what Mick would be like as a 30-year old. She worried she had already met that person, in the basement of the Hoover building thirty years before. She loves that person unthinkingly, fiercely, with every cell in her body. But she is also ambivalent about replicating him so precisely in the form of her small daughter.

In the end they agreed to send Mick to kindergarten at the local public elementary school in West Tisbury.

Now, everyday, Mulder waits for her bus out at the end of their drive with some sort of handmade snack, a domestic detail Scully honestly just can’t quite wrap her mind around. She can’t reconcile the Mulder she remembers from their earlier life — the one who never ate anything but a limited selection of takeout and diner food —with the Mulder who now painstakingly bakes banana bread for Mick.

Mick steps off the bus, takes off her mask, kisses him, accepts her slice of banana bread, and begins talking a blue streak about what happened at school or some idea she thought about on the bus ride home.

Scully works from home since they moved to the Vineyard. She sits at her wide office window and watches them walk up the drive together, talking intensely. This man and this child she loves so much, absorbed together in their own oddball world.

If her heart could create a resilient invisible bubble to hover around them and protect them, she would. Because she is also a paranoid soon-to-be-sixty-something parent with a laundry list of traumas. She remembers what it is to lose children, and she remembers what it is to lose him, too, in several significant ways.

This Thanksgiving, Mulder is teaching Mick how to make cranberries the Right Way, according to him. In the pot, with grated orange and cinnamon sticks.

Mick listens to him with a serious intent expression as he lectures her about cranberry consistency. She looks exactly like him, Scully thinks for the umpteenth time. The way her light green eyes lock on him as he talks, the way she has given him her complete focus, the round purse of her bottom lip, the tiny furrow in her brow.

After they have gotten the pot simmering, Mick and Daggoo run to play outside. Scully sets to work pouring the sweet potato filling into the pie crust, inhaling the nutmeg scent appreciatively. Mulder washes up the dishes, keeping an eye out the window.

Their house faces woods on one side, and on the other, there is a short walk down to the beach, which Scully loves. She loves having Mick growing up on an island, as Mulder did, and she loves being within earshot of the ocean herself. She belongs to the sea, and so does Mulder. Now, so does Mick.

The pie is ready to go in the oven— at least, she hopes it is, if it’s not overfilled. Scully regards it thoughtfully, licking a dollop of sweet potato off her thumb. Sweet potato pie isn’t her favorite, but she has made it now for years, as Mulder adores it. She admits to a certain pride now in her expertise.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder says in a quiet voice to her from the sink. “Come over here, will you?”

“Hold on,” she says. “Let me just put this in.”

She positions the pie, surface wobbling, on the top rack, then looks in at it, satisfied. She sets the timer for an hour and then scoots next to Mulder at the sink, nudging his hip flirtatiously. She’s surprised when he doesn’t respond, but his eyes are fixed out the window on Mick, who is chanting something in the tiny yard outside. Daggoo runs in excited circles around her.

“Watch her with me for a second,” he says in a subdued voice, his eyes not leaving the yard. “Just watch.”

Side by side they watch as Mick picks up a handful of crumbling leaves, and then she turns and says something, offhand, to an invisible playmate to her right. She offers the playmate one of the leaves, and then, shrugging, turns to her left to laugh uproariously at something another invisible playmate has said.

Scully chuckles fondly. She turns to Mulder to share in the mutual joy of their eccentric child, but stops short.

He is not smiling; his face is stone.

“What’s wrong?” She touches his cheek with her knuckle. “What’s worrying you?”

“She’s been talking to invisible people like this for so long,” he says in a whisper. “The whole time I’ve been washing dishes.”

“That’s upsetting you?” Scully asks.

“She never looks away. They have her full attention.”

“Mulder, this kind of imaginative play is a completely normal developmental stage for this age,” Scully says. “You know that. She’s above average imaginative. You don’t have to worry about schizophrenia or mental health problems when you see a child talking to imaginary playmates.”

“I’m not worried about schizophrenia or mental health problems,” he says, his pitch dropping. His eyes cut to hers.

Scully draws in a breath, understanding his implication. She turns to watch Mick more carefully, because she has seen too much to be a knee-jerk skeptic now.

Mick looks up at someone standing on one side of her and makes a face, and then turns and says something with animated passion to someone sitting next to her on the ground.

“What exactly are you thinking, Mulder?”

He looks at her. “What if she sees … things we don’t see? What if she’s like Jackson?”

“Jackson doesn’t see invisible people,” Scully says, studying his face like a map.

“What if Mick sees ghosts?”

In tandem they both turn back again to watch their small daughter. She has a stick and a leaf in each hand, and she is gesturing with them, making some kind of point to a group of unseen people.

“She could be surrounded by ghosts, Scully,” whispers Mulder. “So many ghosts.”

Oh Mulder, she thinks, turning back towards him and reaching out with her fingertips to trace his face. She’s not the only one.

“We’ll ask her,” Scully says, letting her fingers trail down his cheek and watching him closely. “If she’s seeing anything, she’ll tell you.”

With both hands she directs his mouth to hers and kisses him, because she knows her kisses can soothe him, calm him down.

She would say her kisses always soothe him and calm him down, but that’s not strictly true. They know now that it needs to be her kisses and 20 milligrams of citalopram a day, plus some regular therapy, fresh air, and exercise, ideally a run on the beach. Purposeful work doesn’t hurt either.

Still, as her hands stroke his face, her lips play lightly at his, she can feel it making the difference. He relaxes, kisses her back. His hands sneak around to her cup her backside.

“Want to stuff a turkey?” he whispers.

“We’re not stuffing our turkey,” Scully tells him seriously. “For reasons of food safety.”

“Was it not clear that was a come-on line?”

She stands on her tiptoes and speaks softly in his ear. “How about you peel my potatoes, Mulder?”

“That wasn’t a come-on line, was it?”

“As a matter of fact, no,” she says, smiling, pulling away to grab the bag of potatoes and place them in his hands.

***

Last year, Mick and Mulder made a paper turkey centerpiece for the table, stapling together strips of brown and red and yellow construction paper to make an awkward little bird, a googly-eyed objet d’art.

This year the decoration is a little battered and bent, but Scully pulls it out anyway and props it up in the center of the table, next to the small orange pumpkin and the decorative gourd.

It reminds her of another Thanksgiving years and years ago, when she and Mulder were in quarantine together, right after she had been returned from her abduction. He drew a sad little paper turkey centerpiece for their lonely dinner to make her laugh, cheer her up. Those two young agents, still tentative with the defenses around each other, seem in some ways like strangers to her now. Yet in other ways she also feels like exactly the same person.

The three of them work together to set the table and carry out the food. Mick carries the special Mulder-style cranberries and a basket of rolls, Mulder the platter of the healthy roasted asparagus Scully insists on plus the mashed potatoes and gravy, and Scully cradles the stuffing and a compact little turkey that will feed all three of them and still generate leftovers.

Once they sit down, Scully thinks fleetingly of a blessing or of sharing what they’re grateful for, but Mick starts grabbing for the rolls and Scully begins to serve her, and Mulder belatedly remembers to pour some wine, and they are distracted.

A few minutes later, Mick is finishing a long-winded explanation of marsupial traits when Scully and Mulder make significant eye contact across the table.

“Hey,” Mulder says casually. “Mick, I was curious if there was someone you were talking to before.”

Mick, who is mixing her cranberries and her mashed potatoes up methodically, looks up at him in surprise. “I was talking to you and Mommy.”

“No, I meant outside, when you were playing in the leaves.” He keeps his voice impressively calm, pouring gravy as he glances at her.

“Ohhhh,” Mick says, smiling a tiny knowing smile. “Outside, yeah.”

“You were talking to somebody?”

“My friends,” Mick says. “Can I have another roll?”

“Eat some of the rest of your dinner first,” Scully says briskly, leaning over to cut up slices of turkey on Mick’s plate. “What friends?”

“My friend Sib and my friend Sem and my friend Samantha,” Mick announces, cramming a spoonful of cranberries in her mouth.

Mulder drops the asparagus platter down on the table, and it lands a little too loudly. His hands are visibly shaking. His eyes meet Scully’s, and she tries to transmit a message to him: stay calm, g-man.

Her attention shifts back to Mick. “What do they look like? What do they talk about?” asks Scully with an encouraging smile.

“We play,” says Mick, matter-of-fact. “We like to play zoo. We built a whole wombat habitat today. Did you know that wombats poop in cubes, Mommy? They typically live in mountains and shrublands throughout Australia.”

“One of your friends has the same name as Daddy’s sister,” comments Scully, watching Mick’s face carefully.

Mick nods. “She has brown braids like the picture on Daddy’s desk, too.” She gestures with her hands to mimic braids and tosses her head from side to side playfully.

Abruptly Mulder stands up. His chair knocks backwards with a clatter. Mick startles, but he doesn’t seem to register her reaction at all.

“What about the other friends, Mick?” he insists in a low voice, fixing his attention on her, his eyes burning. “What do they look like?”

His daughter stares at him, wide-eyed. For her entire lifetime, her father has been easygoing and joking and gentle, a playmate and teacher. She has no memory of him being any other way. Her expression is one of shock.

“Sib is tall and skinny and has black sort-of spiky hair,” Mick says in an uncertain voice. “Sem is little and has short gold hair.”

“Mulder,” cautions Scully. He doesn’t even look at her. He doesn’t even seem to hear her.

“What does Samantha say to you, Mick? What does she say?”

“Mulder, enough.” Scully is out of her chair now.

“Does she say anything to you, Mick? It’s important. It’s really important. What does she say?”

“I don’t know, Daddy,” she whispers, her expression frozen.

“Does she tell you to do anything? Does she say anything about me?”

Scully is gripping his arm now, tugging, speaking firmly to him. “That’s enough.”

Mulder finally registers her, his expression desperate. “Scully, we have to—“

“Mulder.”

He turns back to Mick. “Just a few more—”

Scully sees no way around this. She twists back towards Mick, smiling as calmly as she can. “Mick, it’s okay. Daddy’s okay, just a little wound up. I’m just going to talk to him one minute, sweetie. Don’t be worried. We’ll be right in the other room.”

She drags him into the kitchen, her stomach a mass of nerves, hating leaving the child in there alone and frightened. “What is wrong with you?” she hisses. “You’re scaring her. You have to pull it together.”

“She’s seeing Samantha. What does it mean, Scully?“ His voice cracks. She can see from the wild look in his eyes that he’s terrified. She wonders about his medication.

“Mulder.” She puts her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Agent Mulder. Listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes settling on hers.

“She’s seen the photo of Samantha a thousand times. She knows the story by heart. To her it’s history, myth, legend.”

He nods rapidly, as though he is clinging to her every word.

“She probably just gave her imaginary friend that name because it’s in her mind, in her psyche. The other names sound made up, but that one — she could have just given her that name and imagined her looking like the photo. That’s typical imaginative kid behavior.”

“Scully,” he whispers. “You don’t think when she says Sem, and she says little with gold hair, you don’t think she means Emily?”

For a moment Scully’s chest seizes. She stares back at Mulder, feeling her eyes widen. This is how together they can sometimes enter a feedback loop, can frighten and disturb one another like no one else in the world can. But she hears Mick’s chair squeak in the other room, and it reminds her: they only have so much time left with her, their precious fresh start.

“No,” she says. “I don’t.”

His formative trauma was losing a little girl. No amount of therapy, no amount of medication, no passing of time, was ever going to keep him from being deathly afraid of losing Mick. She knows this. He does, too.

“Yeah,” he says, after a beat, sounding shell-shocked. “You’re right, Scully. Of course you are.”

“We have to go back right now,” she whispers. “Remember our number one parenting goal. She’s supposed to be the least traumatized of us.”

He nods again, and then it seems to hit him, what happened with the little girl in the other room. “Oh shit,” he says softly. “Oh shit, shit, shit.”

He immediately sprints back into the dining room and swoops his arms around Mick, and Scully hears him saying, “I’m so sorry, kid,” in his warm and loving voice, and giving his most empathetic explanation.

Scully takes a moment longer. She is still trembling. His distress has long been more personally arduous for her than her own; she can’t even remember now when this wasn’t true. Now it is true of Mick, too, and also of Jackson, although he usually goes to considerable pains to hide his troubles from her.

When she comes back to the table they are both smiling, and Scully feels relief wash over her.

“Why don’t we do the thing, Scully— the thing where we say what we’re grateful for?” Mulder suggests.

The idea makes her miss her mother so very much. How she longs to have her mom with her now, sitting across the table, smiling at Mick, this precocious, miraculous granddaughter she never got to meet. For that matter, Scully misses all the trappings of family Thanksgiving of younger years—her father standing over the turkey with the carving knife, Melissa peeling potatoes with a glass of red wine, Charlie setting the table wrong, Bill grumbling about putting the leaf in the table for their mother.

Mick’s Thanksgiving dinner seems very lonely and small compared to all of that. No wonder she makes up ghostly family members, thinks Scully.

“All right,” Scully agrees softly. She reaches out and takes each of their hands. Even at such a small table, even with so many ghosts haunting them, it won’t be hard to think of what she is grateful for.

***

“Do you remember the novel Remains of the Day, Scully?”

They’re letting their heads rest on the back of the leather couch in the study, drowsy and full of sweet potato pie, gazing out the large picture window with the view of the sea. Their legs stretch out before them, Mulder’s extending further than hers, of course. Their hands are both folded over their abdomens.

Mick, who had been on her iPad watching YouTube videos about wombats on the floor nearby, has curled up with a throw pillow and a quilt and fallen asleep, Daggoo slumbering happily up against her. So far, Mick sleeps flexibly and anywhere: more like Scully than like Mulder. Something for parents in their 50s and 60s to be grateful for indeed.

“I think I do,” Scully says. She is very relaxed. “I remember that you read it to try to impress me early in our partnership, didn’t you?”

He tilts his head further backward over the top of the couch and laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “I think that’s probably an accurate interpretation of my behavior. I read it that one Thanksgiving when we were in quarantine.”

“I was just thinking about that Thanksgiving today,” she murmurs. “You were trying to cheer me up, and I was so grumpy.”

Outside the window evening is falling. The sky over the sea is turning darker shades of plum, and the temperature is dropping. She reaches over Mulder for the quilt on the other side of the couch, and he immediately helps her pull it over them, draping it over their shoulders and laps. She folds her legs up and curls against him, resting her head against his shoulder, and he draws his arm around her without even thinking about it.

“Isn’t that what we’re in now?” Mulder asks, his voice soft and contemplative. “You and me. The remains of our day?”

He gestures to the sky painted with the colors of a fading sun, the beach gradually being drained of its vitality, swallowed in shade.

“Are you suggesting that our lives are almost over? Seems a little premature,” Scully says. “We have a five-year old I want to see grow up.”

“Me too, yeah,” he agrees. “But we’ve got a decent chunk of the day behind us already. Don’t we?”

Scully says nothing for a moment.

“The character in that novel has some significant regrets.” Scully shifts her head and glances up to examine his profile. “He’s dedicated his whole life to his work. He’s sacrificed happiness, made choices that caused him to miss opportunities. His relationship with the woman he loved. Are you comparing yourself to him?”

“Well, I’m not a butler, Scully.”

“Do you have regrets?”

Mulder twists his head and kisses the top of her forehead very softly. “Some. Of course.”

He rests his face against hers. They don’t speak for a moment. There’s no point discussing his regrets. Some she can easily guess; some she’s sure she shares. The choices that led up to the deaths of people they cared about. The choices that led up to having to give their son up. The choices that led to their separation.

“But there’s no good in looking back,” Mulder says, “and besides, how can I be dissatisfied with what I do have now? I have things in my life I never thought I would.”

Both of their eyes shift involuntarily to Mick, curled tranquilly with the dog on the floor.

“Things you never thought you’d want,” Scully says. She thinks of that lonely man in the basement working through Thanksgiving, who only had dinner with his new partner that first year because he felt sorry for her.

“I don’t know,” Mulder says with a sly smile. “I always sort of wanted you.”

She pokes him in the ribs. He playfully twists a little away from her finger, but then turns to her again to speak in a low, serious voice.

“You know, I know there are ways I’m broken that won’t ever be fixed,” he says. “I know I’m scared and haunted. And you, too, g-woman. But shit, Scully, I’m so grateful for this, for the remains of my day, because you and I could so easily have missed it. In so many times and so many ways.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice barely more than breath.

“And … because it’s so beautiful. Such a fucking beautiful time of the day.” His voice breaks a little. “The absolute best time.”

She turns her head and kisses him gently, running her finger over his round lip. “You’re such a cornball in your advanced age, Mulder.”

“You’ll stay with me for all of it, right?” he whispers, sounding suddenly much younger. “All the other Thanksgivings we have?”

“Every one,” she murmurs. “Every single one. They’re ours.” Her promise becomes another kiss. And then another. Twilight turns into night.

[theglitchywriterboi]

Deaths Diner: Chapter Ten

Soon after everyone that could eat got a bit of fruit & water, they continued on their way to find Dexter. Treat was near the front of the group. Paxton & Vlad were leading the group, Trick was with Vlad. Aurora was next to Treat on her left, and the other two, Sage & Asher, were behind them.

Those two were fairly quiet. Even when that monster attacked the diner, they didn’t say much. Unix-Sage sometimes spoke up more, but barring the when he introduced the two of them Asher never really talked unless it was through Unix-Sage. They seemed sweet though. As far as Treat could tell at least.

It wasn’t too bad down here. The flame bubbles Aurora made light the area up fairly well. She didn’t bother to count how many bubbles there were, but it was enough. There were a few just ahead of Vlad, Trick, & Paxton, a few next to them, a few next to Treat & Aurora, & a few next to Unix-Sage & Asher.

She liked it here. Not in this weird tunnel of course, it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t ideal. She liked the waiting room. That’s what Vlad called this place at least. Souls would come here as their first stop after death. Some would be waiting for someone else [or several others] & some would just need more time to cope. Just because someone didn’t go so mad with the reality they were in, doesn’t mean they coped well with the situation.

It was normally children that were waiting. Some kids would move on, maybe they had a grandparent or aunt/uncle or someone else waiting for them. Or perhaps a parent that had passed before them. But most sat & waited. It wasn’t often, but sometimes, no one would come for them. Those kids stayed at what Vlad called The Central. He had never taken her or Trick - thats were his dad was, and he wasn’t too close to his father. He didn’t really talk about why - which she respected, besides her siblings, she wasn’t too close to her family & that seemed to be the same situation with Vlad.

She still remembered when she first got here. It was scary - she didn’t like admitting that, she always considered herself brave in life. Maybe a bit too brave… But most people would be scared to die, even if they didn’t want to admit it. Even if they didn’t even realize themselves that they were scared.

Trick had died first. They weren’t with each other when they died, in fact up until meeting here, they hadn’t known the other was even in danger.

She touched the wound on her neck. She wished it would go away.

Most would of course, but even still. Maybe if she wasn’t… The way she was, in life, they’d both be alive.

She liked it here. It was better, in ways, than their old home. And Trick was so happy with Vlad. But she wished they hadn’t met such tragic ends…

“Treat?” Aurora said. Treat glanced up at Aurora. “Are you alright?” She asked. 

“I- yeah, yeah I’m fine, why do you ask?” She said, the words stumbling out of her mouth, she felt her voice raise in pitch as she spoke.

“You just seemed really in your head, thats all,” 

“Oh…” Was all Treat said, before realizing she should probably say more, “Um- thanks for checking! How- how are you doing?” Treat asked. She glanced back up at Aurora, who let out a soft laugh, briefly & swore she saw her smile.

“I’m… Well, as good as one can be in this sort of situation?”

Treat smiled & said a soft “Yeah” But she doubted Aurora heard her.

They walked in silence for a few moments, when she noticed a flower floated in her direction. It was a deep green & bright orange stripped flower.

Treat gently picked it up. She had held things made in this place, made by beings that resided here, but nothing that she had made. A part of her was worried it’d slip out of her fingers & onto the ground they were walking on.

But it didn’t.

It felt different than the stuff made here felt. It was hard to explain, you’d have to die to understand. It felt like touching a world she hadn’t even realized she had forgotten the touch of.

“I thought you couldn’t…” She began, trailing off.

“I haven’t mastered fruits & other foods, but I’ve been able to make a couple flowers that seemed successful,” Aurora said

“Was this… The first one to work?” She asked.

“As far as I know,”

“What if it didn’t work?”

“Then I suppose I’d have to make the flower follow you for all eternity,” 

Treat felt her face heat up. She gently placed the flower in her hair.

[purpleturtle9000]

Stares at you from the dark corner of the ceiling and a holographic turtle sticker floats down

Hey so. How do the Reds and Oranges feel about the hoard of blues? Are any of them particularly attached to one or more/do they do activities with them?

Also, are there any *whole* family outings? Like as one giant group all together? My first guess would be a birthday. Which also raises the question of how do they handle the blue/purple birthday with so many of them?

Last question (for now), I promised. Do missions still happen? Do the villains just suddenly have to deal with a rotating cast of turtles or is there just a select group that goes out to fight/mess around?

Parting thought. Leonardo in his Batman arc now. I’m giving him a cape to hide the maximum amount of children in

Slowly dissolves into the corner, taking the spiderweb that was up here with me

STICKER *puts it directly on my forehead*

This is the most ridiculous nonsense Angelo has ever seen. He knows good and well that Leonardo had zero ideas in all this beyond Obtain Horde and that the future is probably going to have a lot of mistakes in it. Some of these children are getting lost their first time away from home. He knows it. But any thoughts he might have about holy shit you moron are promptly wiped out by the fact that Unicorn adopts him immediately, because Orange was her favourite brother, and therefore so is Angelo. He then adopts all the rest of the little blues because it's like seeing a bunch of puppies, they're adorable and he can't resist loving them all.

His favourite is Unicorn, though, and nobody pretends otherwise. He also gets along great with Heiwa, who's a bonsai artist and likes having someone to talk to about it. (Also Jihi lets him pet them and Angelo is lowkey jealous about Heiwa having a pet crab.) He also has some Gender Conversations with Spruce, cause they're genderfluid and it's fun for them to talk about how their genders are similar and different.

Mikey, upon seeing, his big brother come back with fourteen mini blues, knows that that turtle is having a mental break of some kind. He's briefly worried he's going to have to step in and do something about this to help Leonardo stabilise, but Angelo reassures him that he doesn't have to do anything, and then Mikey's just immensely curious about all his new siblings. He updates the family drawing to include them all. That gets him adopted into the blueberries in return and he has a great time getting several new BFFs.

He and Lee are the same age, at fifteen, and they get along great, which means that by extension, Mikey and Echo are also friends. Some of the younger blues also ask Mikey for advice about how to find their place in a family. Not all of his advice is applicable, because his family was much smaller, but they have plenty of things to talk about regardless.

Red is laughing hysterically at all this. She's very nervous around some of the smaller ones though, like Baby Blue and Pep, because she's pretty sure they would never recover if she accidentally stepped on one of them. They're all awestruck by how tall and spiky she is, and several of them have nicknamed her 'kaiju' because of course Tello insisted on them all watching Pacific Rim on their first family movie night. It wasn't a unanimous vote but they have teeth and quite possibly rabies so.

If you try to take Baby Blue from her, she will tail-whip you all the way to Jersey. Her baby now, fuck you. Same thing applies to Pep, who is not above texting Tello for a 'rescue' while he's being cuddled by her just to see the unfolding carnage. He's a feral little bastard. She also gets roped into tea parties by the dozen with Unicorn and River, and teaches them how to paint their nails like Leo once taught her.

Raph is a little stressed at first because they're family and that means that it's his job to help protect them. He's also vaguely weirded out by there now being several more Leos that are older than him. But then he sees that Hamato, Alpha, and Vanilla are all helping to wrangle the Child Horde and is slightly less stressed about it. There's no way that the Horde are going to be kept safe without other people, takes a village and all that, and he's relieved that the older blues are a built-in support system.

That's part of the reason that he gets along with Vanilla so well! He's the most businesslike blue out of all of them, and Raph respects that and appreciates how it makes it easier. And to the surprise of pretty much everyone including him, he also gets along with Alpha pretty well. Alpha doesn't have to worry about much hurting Raph with how tall and strong he is, but not so tall and strong as to be intimidating like Red is.

There are family outings, and half the future family is wheezing with laughter at the sight of Leonardo with over a dozen children trailing behind him like a bunch of ducklings. The blueberries have organised three teams in case of emergency, with Hamato, Alpha, and Vanilla being team leaders. They manage to wrangle their mini-hordes fairly well, but random children keep disappearing to tail after Leonardo instead (or Tello, in Pep's case).

Leonardo also takes them all to the Hidden City to show them that there's other non-humans out there, besides Krang. They're all very fascinated with it, and of course they have to be warned away from Big Mama and Draxum, and introduced to Hueso. The look on Hueso's face when 16 Leonardos walk into his pizza place is literally priceless. Tello remembers it fondly.

Most of the blueberries have their own birthdays already. For those that didn't, or don't remember, they get to choose new ones! Their family calendar suddenly gets flooded with blue dates and Leonardo finds it hilarious. He's also very soft for the fact that Leon and Don also share a birthday as twins.

Blueberry birthdays are special events! Generally speaking, Leonardo takes the blueberry out for lunch and then they do whatever the little one wants for the afternoon until meeting with the whole family at Hueso's for dinner. Hueso appreciates the money, but at what cost?

(Some blueberries, like Alpha, do not care for outings. They stay at home and finds things to do there instead, like video games and movies, or sometimes board games. He let Monopoly happen once and it did not end well.

Missions still happen! Some of the smaller blueberries are banned from going on missions because they are Baby and nobody wants a twelve-year-old getting suckerpunched by Meat Sweats or some shit. On occasion, they are allowed to come along and sit in the turtle tank for a safe view from the sidelines.

Generally speaking, children under fifteen are not allowed on missions where weapons and villains are in play. Cobalt thoroughly ignores this whenever Alpha is out because he'd be safe in a war zone with Alpha there to maul anyone who comes near him. Alpha is rather stressed by this but nobody can get Cobalt to behave including him.

Hamato, Alpha, Vanilla, Heiwa, and Echo and Lee are the usual ones who are added to patrol teams. There was mass confusion on the villains' part when seven blue turtles showed up because clearly they had missed something. All the old-enough turtles (and Cobalt) go out sometimes but not all of them are interested in doing so regularly.

Occasionally younger turtles end up on missions because a day off gets gate-crashed by some asshole who wants to cause trouble. Leonardo always fusses over them when they're anywhere near any kind of danger, which they find hilarious. Pep flings himself toward danger with the reckless disregard of a hedgehog on a highway, content in the knowledge that Tello is right behind them.

Leonardo would love a cape, Batman arc or not. He does have a habit of wearing large blankets across his shoulders, during movie nights and such, so that he can blanket-burrito whatever child cuddles up to him. There's always a cuddler at hand. Usually four or five. He loves being in cuddle piles so it works out great. Sometimes when the littler blueberries get nervous about something, they'll hide in the blanket and he's gotta remember not to knock them over when he starts walking again, which is... shall we say unsuccessful a couple times.

[mentallyrecovering]

Lily's Nightmare

(tags are Lily's Nightmare and LN)

I promise the story is going somewhere each chapter is giving hints and developing!

So I hope you like it! again TW for horror/blood/violence

Lily bounced on the trampoline landing on her heel, popping back up before her final landing. The trampoline was enclosed with a net on all sides, balloons floated about in the trampoline. Confused, Lily stood up and looked around. There were children around the age of six or seven. Adult parents sat on folded chairs, by a folding table, and drinking out of red solo cups. Several Cakes and cupcakes were laid out on the table. There were happy birthday balloons floating on several tables and chairs. What looked like her mother was sitting at the table wrinkle free and thirty pounds lighter.

Lily gasped as she took in the scene. This was her seventh birthday party! Her mother sat next to her best friends’ mom. She even remembered the conversion her mom was in, something about going tubing in a river. Kids ran about shoving cupcakes and cake into their mouths with a balloon in one hand. As Lily turned around and looked at the trampoline she just landed on she saw Bryan, her neighbor's kid, Ellen, her best friend, and herself.

What? Lily did a double take. It was her younger self wearing her favorite outfit; A lightning Mcqueen red T-shirt with her favorite purple shorts and orange shoes. She thought for a brief moment why in the world would her mother let her wear that outfit? She looked at everyone around her, the kids, the adults, and herself. No one made eye contact until she got to herself and her younger self paused, gave a terrifying soul crushing smile, and said, “What are you doing here? You don’t know, do you?” Lily shook her head, breaking that soul crushing eye contact. “Just open your eyes, Just one Blink.” her younger self whispered then the party continued like normal. Her younger self going back to bouncing on the trampoline.

Lily blurted out, “What do you mean? What’s going on? Why am I here? What is the monster? How do I get rid of it?” but her younger self didn't acknowledge her again. She turned around to look back at her mom and saw the monster standing behind her. It raised its claws, before Lily could scream, and pierced through her moms stomach. Blood dripped from the wound as her mother grunted and gurgled on her own blood. Frozen Lily could only watch the horrifying sight. The Monster locked eyes with Lily, pulled out its claws from her mother, and darted toward her. 

Running for her life, Lily ran to the wood gate of her house's privacy fence and opened the gate. She took a deep breath running through the gate and paused confused. She was standing in the middle of a frozen lake…

[drem0raman]

Meeting the psy-oenix,rainbow feather’s story

It was many moons since rainbow feather had several inter-realmers visit equestria but this travelers were unique: a chozo/human hybrid tribe that were distant cousins to the griffon/hippogriff races that were involved in giving the bird race a place to live but had no part in aiding them in perilous dangers or civil disputes. the chozo tribes were shunned by the griffon/hippogriffs for being mistakened for savages of the everfree forest & having weird rituals that were taboo to the ordinary griffon. both gilda & rainbow dash had been together for years & had a family,during their time before they had children,there were sightings of rogue chozo natives wandering near griffonstone & they wanted to set up a tribe camp next door to the village,the village elders had agreed to let them do so because the tribe had recovered the idol of boreas to the griffons & were rewarded with returning land to the lost tribe. 

as time passed,both dash & gilda went to the tribe camp to learn more of the chozo mixed tribe but were refusing visitors due to spiritual host concerns so they were forced to wait for the camp to open,as the camp opened,rainbow feather the medic was summoned to the camp by the orders of scrying rain,she wanted to show feather the power of her children & what that power meant to the chozo’s

Rainbow feather: hello,is there any bird relatives i’m looking to speak to? 

???: shh,over here child,i’m the one your looking for

RF: i’ve met you before but never had the option of seeing your real self as you wore a robe,right? 

*takes off robe & addresses self* My name is scrying rain,feather,you are speaking to the mother of her twin children you are friends with,yes? *raises brow,crosses arms* 

Rf: yes..whoa,i didn’t think you would look like maiden,ma’am. the color & fur gives it away,how is it that your son sageling doesn’t look like you? just wondering why

Sr: if you must know,my son sageling is a chozo/bird/human hybrid,he may not look like me but he takes after his human father,my lover. i called you here because i wanted to show you the secret of my family powers,no outsider has witnessed it until now. i hope you brought the recording stone for your family to see what i was talking about. 

inside the tent,sageling phoenix was dressed in only a mogli style loincloth that was grey colored,he was floating in a fetal position as the chozo elders were prepping to move something from somewhere,rainbow feather glanced at the glowing neon bodypaints sageling was covored in. very quickly,the elders removed a red orb from sage’s body,the orb soon flashed an orange bubble & 2 more colored orbs manifested,1 was blue & the other was green.rain explained to feather while the stone recorded the action

Sr: as you can see,this is the psy-oenix,the red orb is the core of the psy-oenix & my former lover’s life energy,vengo. the green orb is honored maiden’s link while the blue one is my son’s link,they are both connected to the psy-oenix & need its energy to use their psychic powers *points to sageling* my son needs to be the host of the psy-oenix as the creature has to be contained,otherwise,its rage can be really dangerous

Rf: wha......?! that’s the psy-oenix’s true form? i never saw that before,does it have a physical form to manifest or no? (feels energy homing around body)

chozo elder: yes it does,it has a physical form but outside its host,it takes on the form of an orb. its takes this form in order to sustain itself from harming others,see those little devices & bug like things? we use them to both anchor & carry the orb without being harmed,if you were to try & move it with your hands,you’ll get burned. we try to reduce the number of injuries by moving it into a gem or back to sageling

the orb was transferred into sageling & the energy dissipated,rainbow feather was both wowed & speechless at the marvel of the chozo spirit guardian,the stone flashed pink as it meant it finushed its recording. feather took the stone to show her family as to explain the origin of the spirit guardian of the chozo hybrids,the end

[my-wayward-son]

I’m not usually one for memories, but timehop caught me on this one. Four years ago, I was babysitting my parents’ cat. I love that cat with all my heart.

The flannel shirt I’m wearing in the photo is the same flannel shirt I was wearing the day I ran away to be with DD (January 2019). It’s also the shirt that matches one of JW’s (Mr. BFF and coworker from where I used to live) favorite ties, and we used to arrange to coordinate, just to be silly.

By October 2018, I’d already had this blog going for over a year. I’d had Starbucks Sunday going for about a year. My big writing project that month was “Are You with me after all,” an Irondad & Spiderson story delving into the personal and the political as the media swelled with the Me Too movement.

The following month, I experienced my first status migraine, yet I put every spare minute into writing, completing both the Novemeto challenge and NaNo, with 30 one-shots, a 70k word book, and a 90k total.

That is not bragging. That is not me begging for sympathy. That was me, four years ago, being a stupid twenty-five-year-old, experiencing the onset of fairly severe Bipolar disorder, using lack of situational awareness (blame autism a little, my selfish ass a lot) to my advantage, and caring only about my statics.

Riding mania is not equal to more productivity.

Riding depression is not equal to resting.

Abusing (OTC) drugs does not put the body back into a “regular” schedule. Taking something to sleep, then taking something to wake up, then living on protein powder and instant coffee because food is a waste of time… it’s not sustainable.

Sometimes crutches are needed. The same with time-outs. Float for a while and let the anxious fizzle out somewhere else in the brain, somewhere under the soft lights and music.

Same with activity. DD is immensely strong, and she has actually carried me outside to sit on the back porch. I like to test the weather report. Look at the app. Then I go to the nearest window to see if it’s right. My kid likes to help. But it’s good just to move. To make a thought that’s unrelated to you. Geez, the sun is bright. Shit, it’s raining again…

Now, I’m not telling anyone what to do. I don’t know how to manage or cure any mental illness. I can just pass on descriptions of what happened to me at my lowest points, and explain what went wrong. It’s like… a police investigation, sort of. Now that I have proper medication and a support system and doctors who look after me, we can look back on my behavior and thoughts and what I was doing four years ago so we know how I derailed and how to prevent it from happening again.

I’m not fixed. Not cured. That’s impossible, unfortunately. It’s hard to manage constantly fluctuating mental health with a migraine condition and metabolic and gastric issues as well. Sometimes it’s hard to tell them all apart and treat the correct problem. I’m so lucky to have DD and our children and our roommates for their consistent love and care. Nothing gets easier, but it is better.

Four years ago I was an idiot about to crash and burn, but, the moment I took this photo, I didn’t know that yet. I was just doing whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it. Because I thought I thought I could. Drink my parents’ beer and work on Inktober and tap away on my computer and hang out with the world’s loveliest orange tabby.

Take the chances when you can. Do what you want. But learn, too. I would say listen to your body, but reality is that we also have to learn to care for bodies that don’t speak up. Take care of your loved ones. Let them show you how to take care of you.

My parents’ cat gets wet food in the morning and evening, and his dry kibble and water bowl are filled as needed. Scoop the litter box daily. Let him sleep in the bed with you.

Caring for people is not that simple. But learning the basics is a good, solid start.

[drdunev]

Can Eggs Really Help With Depression?

I have written about eggs before. It used to be just the animal varieties to choose from. You know; duck eggs, chicken eggs, quail eggs, etc. Now there must be eight or so variations at the markets, ranging from plain old white eggs to free range (the chicken gets to stick it’s feathery neck outside the roost for a few minutes) to pasture-raised organic. This means the chickens are supposed to be able to grub around in the grass and dirt to find worms and insects, since birds tend to be carnivores. Chickens in the wild eat an omnivorous diet, meaning they eat anything they can forage in the grasses where they can find beetles. worms and other insects.i

Eggs are pretty amazing nutritionally. Yes, the yolks do contain cholesterol. But they also contain lecithin which breaks down fat and cholesterol. They also contain choline, which is necessary for fat metabolism, and is good for the brain.

Now there is evidence that eggs decrease the risk of depression. The study was a 6- year study of elderly people. Those who ate three eggs a week had a 38% decrease in the risk of depressive symptoms compared to non-egg eaters. And with each additional egg consumed per week, the risk decreased by an additional 4%.ii

This wasn’t a double-blind study. It was self-reported by the participants, but there probably isn’t too much reason to falsely report. So, this indicates that eggs are probably even better for us than was previously known. Happily, this also indicates that there is more interest in prevention and dietary influences of mental problems, rather than just prescribing drugs.

Although the study wasn’t performed on children or teenagers, eggs may prove beneficial to them, as well. Studies are showing that more young people are suffering from mental and emotional difficulties since the pandemic. It’s probably hard for adults to understand what an impact this pandemic event had on development, and it went on far too long. In the life of a young person, this would have an enormous impact, almost like the impact that periods of war or economic depression had on earlier generations. So, simple dietary improvements may help.

No time to fix eggs in the morning? Try this “Egg Pancakes” recipe. Mash a small banana with two raw eggs to make a batter. Cook the pancakes on a griddle until firm and light brown. These can be made ahead, frozen and thawed as needed, for a quick breakfast or snack. Spread with favorite nut butter, roll them up, and they can be eaten on the run. They are sweet enough on their own, or can be enjoyed with a fruit puree or syrup like a regular pancake.iii

I always suggest spending money on the best eggs. The health benefits are substantially improved when the yolk is orange and the shells are strong. Eggs keep several weeks after the date on the carton. You can tell if an egg is fresh by putting it in a glass of water. If it sinks to the bottom and lays flat on its side, the egg is fresh. It is floats, toss it out.

Freshly laid eggs do not need to be refrigerated, and often aren’t in other countries. But once eggs are refrigerated, they must remain refrigerated because they “sweat” when returning to room-temperature and that liquid may be a breeding ground for bacteria. It’s okay to leave eggs out for baking, as many recipes suggest, as long as you use them quickly.

I love eggs and eat them most days for breakfast. I find that the protein keeps my blood sugar stable until lunch. My cholesterol was just checked and it is actually lower than I really want it! I have been eating very little sugar in this past year, and cholesterol is made mainly from dietary sugar, so it is not surprising. But cholesterol is very important for brain health and cognition, so I am going to keep on eating those eggs!

If you want more egg-y inspiration, here is a downloadable or purchasable cookbook called, “Too Many Eggs” by Mimi Dvorak. https://www.toomanyeggs.com

[rabbitcruiser]

National Black Cow Day

National  Black Cow Day is observed every year on June 10, the perfect time to celebrate a cold and refreshing beverage when temperatures start getting warmer. Many people also know the black cow as the humble root beer float or ice cream soda. Some people even substitute vanilla ice cream with chocolate ice cream, making it a “brown cow.”

History of National Black Cow Day

A black cow is a beverage made with root beer and vanilla ice cream, which is relished by people of all age groups.

Frank  J. Wisner, hailing from Cripple Creek, Colorado, invented the black  cow. He was the owner of the Cripple Creek Cow Mountain Gold Mining  Company. One night he was thinking about the line of soda waters that were being produced for the citizens of Cripple Creek and that’s when he  came upon the idea for the root beer float. While staring out of his window, he saw the full moon shining on the snow-capped Cow Mountain, which made him think of a scoop of vanilla ice cream. That encouraged him to add a spoonful of vanilla ice cream to the children’s soda Myers  Avenue Red Root Beer. When he took his first sip of the drink, he knew he was onto something great. He named his creation ‘Black Cow Mountain,’ which was later shortened to ‘black cow’ by the local children.

Over the years, not only children, but even adults have started enjoying  this simple yet delicious beverage. It is also offered by several fast food outlets. The black cow can be easily served at house parties or potluck lunches and dinners.

On National Black Cow Day, make this effortless drink and sip away. Anyway, summers are the best time to enjoy this cool drink to beat the sweltering heat.

National Black Cow Day timeline

1800s Root Beer is Invented

Root beer or root tea is invented for medical purposes.

1872 Ice Cream and Soda

George Guy, an employee of Robert Green, is said to have absent-mindedly mixed ice cream and soda to invent ice cream soda.

1874 First Ice Cream Soda

Robert  M. Green sells the first-ever ice cream soda at the semi-centennial  celebration of the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia.

1893 Black Cow is Invented

Frank J. Wisner from Cripple Creek makes the first black cow with vanilla ice cream and childrens’ soda.

How To Celebrate National Black Cow Day

Prepare your own black cow

Order in a black cow

Experiment with the black cow recipe

Quench  your thirst by preparing your own black cow. All you need is a soft  drink of your choice and a scoop of vanilla or chocolate ice cream. Put the scoop in a tall glass of soda, sit back, and enjoy while reading a book or watching a movie.

If  you do not have the time and ingredients to make a black cow, you can  order one from fast-food restaurants or even pick up one from a drive-through. To make the celebration even better, you can buy one for the person in the queue behind you and spread the love for the black cow.

Bring  out your inner Masterchef and experiment with the classic black cow recipe. You can switch up the soda and ice cream flavors and add your own twist to it.

5 Facts About Ice Cream Soda Everyone Should Know

Countless varieties

Known as ice cream float

Known as ‘Helado flotante’

Known as ‘vaca negra’

Known as a ‘spider’

There are so many varieties of ice cream soda such as chocolate ice cream  soda, butterbeer, orange float, purple cow, and Snow White, among others.

It is also known as an ice cream float in the United States, the United Kingdom, South Africa, Canada, and some parts of Asia.

The popular beverage is called ‘Helado flotante’ in Mexico.

In El Salvador, Costa Rica, Columbia, Guatemala, Honduras, and Puerto  Rico, this drink is known as ‘vaca negra,’ meaning ‘black cow.’

A rather unusual name, it is fondly referred to as a ‘spider’ in Australia and New Zealand.

Why We Love National Black Cow Day

It is refreshing

It is super easy to make

It’s a popular beverage

Think of a hot summer day, relaxing in the outdoors, soaking in the sun. The only thing missing is some ice cream and a cold drink. What’s better than both these things combined, right? Voila, that’s when you get a black cow!

A  black cow is one of the easiest beverages to make with as little as two ingredients. Of course, you can add more ingredients as per your taste and preferences. National Black Cow Day is the perfect opportunity to make one for yourself and your friends and family.

A black cow is an extremely popular beverage across the world. And it’s  safe for children to consume. That’s what makes it so special. No one needs to feel left out when wanting to have a black cow.

Source

[harrison-abbott]

Alf

Alf got sick of his back of house supermarket job and the boss that kept yelling at him and so he quit one Thursday afternoon, mid-shift, and walked out of the building, with the boss shouting after him, perplexed over what he was doing. ///// When Alf got out into the cold sunlit street he suddenly realised that he didn’t need to come here anymore. He’d been working here for six years and nobody had ever quite appreciated him. You can still appreciate a nobody, he thought. He’d never put in a bad shift. Whereas that boss was all extroversion and flak, slander and ego. Alf had let his abuse go so many times. Fantasies of taking an axe into the workplace and caving the man’s skull in had grown a little too poignant for reality … they were lurking on becoming a fact. Alf had quit – yes – he had just fired himself from his job and now he was going home. ///// His home was not far away. By the time he got through the front door there was sweat under his clothes, despite the brittle weather. Alf boiled the kettle. When he poured the water into the cup he thought about pouring some of it over his wrist, or what it would be like if he dropped the whole thing on his foot. He drank the tea, some of it, with half a spoonful of sugar. The taste made him wince and he emptied the cup into the sink and then he went into his garden. The wind blew through the bushes, and overhead in the wavy air he heard some children screaming and the sound of chainsaws. The men were cutting down the trees in the park for some reason. Alf always thought that they should be paying people to do the opposite of that: that they should be employing folks to plant rather than sever trees, since it would help everybody out. But, Alf had never been popular with his ideas and he wasn’t strong or confident enough to be listened to. Alf grew uncomfortable in the garden so he went back inside.

///// He thought he would make some toast. After a few bites he discovered that he had no appetite. So he thought he would head outside. He put his coat on and in a bag he packed a bottle of water and a pair of apples and without quite knowing what he was doing he left the house and was walking down the street and at the end of the road he decided to go to the far side of the road – to wait at the bus stop that would take him out of the city. He could have gone into the city centre but figured he wanted to go the other way for some reason. And the bus came within a few minutes and this seemed like destiny. He sat upstairs and the bus whirled him out and away into the fields and low hills. The fields were emerging with colours, the crops burgeoning. ///// Alf got off at the last stop on the line. Which was in some gnarly provincial town, these barren houses clung to a hillside, looking like they might be blown off at any instant. Alf went into a local newsagent. It smelled of warm bakery stuff. Macaroni pies and doughnuts floating in an orange screen beside the counter where an old woman looked tired, and said Hi to him. Alf bought some bread and a jar of peanut butter, and there were some wooden knives, and he got a box of oatcakes, and picked up some newspapers. Tabloids, because they were cheap. He had no intention of reading them. At the counter he asked the lady for a lighter, for a pair of lighters. Paid for the stuff, thanked her, and left. And then he walked on up the streets. Fifteen minutes of walking through the housing and then the buildings drifted away and the road arose and then he could see out across the landscape to the hazy countryside. It really was still cold and Alf regretted not bringing extra shirts with him. But, he was sure he was doing something right now and that this was the proper thing to do. /////

He verged off the road down by the valley and waged across a plain of ferns and heather and he came out into a woodland of birch trees. As he ventured the sound of the world dipped off and he began to calm and to forget about his past and there didn’t seem any immediate threat. He was only a man in a woodland, and not even that. For a long while he walked and at length, it started to rain. So he stopped by a group of bushes and sat under them to hide from the rainwater. And as he sat under the short canopy of the leaves he felt like a boy again, and he hadn’t really thought of childhood in quite some time. But then the rain picked up, intensifying, and the bush he was under wasn’t going to last much longer, so he ploughed on into the woodland searching for somewhere else to stay. ///// Alf came upon the river. It was a proud, hurtling affair, and he followed the bankside. The sound of the rushing water grew hypnotic and he liked it. The land started to depress in a new valley, and the river wound down the valleyside in curls and turns. And at the bottom there were crags and rocks that hung over the water in thick yellow stone. Alf found a spot under the hanging cliffs. He dried his hair. And sat there, watching the rain pound the river in millipede dots. He fell asleep. ///// When he awoke, he was quite chilled. And realised he needed to make a fire. He got the newspapers – the tabloids – from earlier and scrunched up blobs with them, and then set about making a circle of rocks on the floor. And then he scoured in the woods to find some lumber and twigs dry enough to make some fodder with. Alf was staying in the forest tonight. He would be part of this woodland … and the non-human magic of it was already channelling his mind.