#a couple longer stories to round out the shorter ones...!!!!

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

finally working on my short story collection after manyyyy months of fear!!!! I HAVE A PLAN OF ACTION!!!!

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 10)

DESCRIPTION: You decide its time to show off your new found home that your husband had bought with a big, celebratory party.

A/N - This part was about 2K words shorter. But then I made the smut part way more graphic and slightly longer. I hope you enjoy

WORD COUNT: 5401

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: smoking, swearing, talk of a breakup, guns, smut, hair pulling, oral (m receiving), praise, spit, mild masochism (both m and f), pet names (sir, love), possession kink, pussy slapping, fingering, mild orgasm denial, sub reader, dom Tommy, creampie, unprotected sex, teasing, dacryphillia

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

You'd spent a month or so in your new house. Although your husband had bought this house as a family home for the three of you, it somehow always had your sisters or his brothers round. Today was no exception. Your sisters are here at lunch time. Sat around the table as you cooed Charlie.

Tommy walking into the room to join you. Nodding slightly at his in laws before looking at you. A smile coming over his lips at seeing you and his child. His happy expression doesn't last long though. Shifting slightly as the three of you go quiet at his presence.

"What is it?" he looks at the three of you. You point at your sisters.

"They are the ones with the idea. Ask them" he looks at them. Mary nudging Liz as he gives his in-laws a quizzical look. His smile having faded but a touch of amusement in his blue eyes remains.

"Ask him" she whispers to her sister.

"Ask me what?" Liz fiddles with her hands as she speaks.

"When are you having a party here?"

"A party?"

"The only people that have seen this house is us and your family. Why have such a grand house if you aren't showing it off?"

"We asked Flo" Mary speaks up, helping her sisters case. "But she said she needed to pass it by you first Mr Shelby". He smiles at the notion. Turning to look at you. Taking out a cigarette as he speaks.

"Your thoughts?". Placing the item in his mouth before lighting it. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Letting it go before speaking.

"I agree with my sisters. I love this house. And I'm not ashamed to want to show it off" he nods. Removing the stick from his mouth with his thumb and middle finger.

"When shall we have it then ey?"

"Next Saturday" Mary says, drawing his eyes back to her. "It gives us enough time to send letters out. But not so far in the future that people will forget. We can then prepare catering and anything else we need for a party. If anyone needs to stay the night before or after then they can do so as that day accepts those type of arrangements." He nods again. Using the hand, the one holding the cigarette in, to exaggerate his speech.

"Flo, I will give you a list of names I'd like you to invite on my behalf. Other then that, feel free to invite whoever you want" he smiles. Placing it back into his mouth before turning. Walking out the room.

-

Your new maid helps you get dressed. Ready for the day of the party. Placing a beautiful silver necklace around your neck. You place two earrings into your lobes. Taking a minute to admire your wedding ring before adding a couple more to your fingers.. You stand up. Looking at yourself in the floor length mirror in your bedroom.

"You look beautiful Mrs Shelby" your maid says.

"Thank you Betty" you stroke down your dress. You turn to face her. Smiling. "You should borrow one of my dresses. Come to the party tonight"

"Oh now Mrs Shelby. I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be proper".

"If you change your mind and fancy an hour or so away from everything then you know where my dresses are. You're welcome to wear one of them tonight if you'd like". A knock at the door before it opens. Thomas walking inside holding Charlie. You go over. Seeing your son looking teary. "Oh no what happened?" you go over. A hand going to his cheek.

"He was crawling and fell down mid crawl. I did comfort him but I think he wanted his mothers love"

"Oh my poor baby" you gently take him. Kissing his head as you stroke his hair. He hides into you. Hearing a very sad sniff coming from him. Thomas places a soothing hand onto his back. Rubbing it gently. You start to hear the chatter of voices downstairs. Mary runs up. Pushing open the door as she runs in.

"People are here! Come on!" she smiles. Coming over and grabbing at your hand.

"I'll be down in a second" she nods. Grinning from ear to ear before skipping out the room. Betty comes over. Holding her hands out.

"Allow me Mrs Shelby". You kiss your child's temple. Passing Charlie over to her. Linking an arm with your husband. Him looking at you before you both head downstairs. Betty following shortly behind. Minding your son during the night.

You and Tommy go different ways. Socialising with different people throughout the night. You meet Vanessa. Linking an arm with her as you catch up with your gossip.

"I don't believe it" a voice interrupts your conversation. One that sounds very familiar. Turning you see Miss Finnley. A woman long forgotten in your past. Vanessa leans close to you as the woman makes her way over. Whispering into your ear.

"You invited your exes mum?"

"No. Not purposefully anyway" she comes over. Eyes scanning over your body as she places her hands in front of her. Delicately placed one over the other.

"Florence Hastings. How did a woman like you get into a party like this?".

"You know, you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you". You try not to laugh at the obvious disgust in her eyes. Like your some sort of scum of the earth.

"Who did you steal this dress from then, hmm?"

"I bought this dress. With my husbands money"

"What a poor man. Being married to a woman like you. How did you drag him into marrying you then?" you half smile.

"I've got a great set of tits and a rocking ass" her eyes widen. A look of shock on her face, jaw dropping. You smile at her. Linking an arm with Vanessa "I hope you have a good rest of the evening". You turn again. Walking away from her.

"You know something" Vanessa says as you go to the food table "I think you've gotten more ballsy since being married to that Shelby fella" you chuckle slightly. Grabbing a cupcake.

"I have to be quick witted in his family. They'd eat me alive otherwise" she laughs as you eat the cake. Betty comes over to you. A very tired looking Charlie in her arms. You smile sweetly at him as you stroke his hair.

"Someone is sleepy so we thought we'd come and say goodnight before heading to bed". You smile. Kissing your child's head.

"Goodnight my sweet boy. I love you" you kiss his head again. Stroking his hair as you watch her go over to Tommy. Him giving the boy the same treatment you did. An admiring smile coming over your face as you watch. Betty taking your son to bed.

Vanessa watches you. A knowing look in her eye. You tun back to her. Your smile changing as you look at her. "What's his name?"

"Charlie. His names Charlie"

"Wasn't that your dads name?" you nod. Your smile saddening slightly as you pick up another cake. "Its a lovely name. Your father would've been proud of the woman you've become". You nod again. Taking a bite of your food. Some other people come over. Chatting with you as you stay around the food table for the evening.

You hear a familiar voice again. "This is her Mr Shelby". You turn. Seeing Miss Finnley with your husband. His eyes meet yours, a look of confusion and amusement in his eyes. "This is the girl who used vile language in front of myself and your guests". You look down. Biting at the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. "Honestly. Some people have no manners. I demand that you make her leave at once"

"Mrs-"

"I think it'd be best for you and the other guests to not have such a disgusting girl here at your grand party. Goodness knows who she stole the dress from"

"Mrs Dickinson" he manages to cut her off. You look puzzled at the name but try not to let it show on your face. "I see that you've met my wife ". She looks at him. Blinking a few times.

"I- your-" she stutters for words.

"Please get back to the party. Enjoy the food and drink that my lovely wife has prepared for you". He smiles at her. An extremely amused look on his face as he looks at you. You smile at him as he turns. Going back to the social group he was with. She turns to you. More disgust on her face as she eyes you up and down.

Giving a soft 'hmmp' she turns. Her nose sticking upwards as she practically storms out. You turn back to Vanessa. "That actually happened..." Grabbing a few grapes. Popping them in your mouth as she lets out a low laugh.

"You said that your husband made a list of guests to invite?" you nod. "Was the name Mrs Dickinson on this list?". You think for a moment. Recalling the name as you nod. "Well that'd be it. She must've remarried. Changed her name. Meaning that she is no longer Miss Finnley, instead is Mrs Dickinson"

"I feel sorry for the poor sod that married her" she laughs. A low snort coming out, causing her to laugh more. You smile. Offering her some sweet treats as you both continue chatting. Vanessa sticking by your side the rest of the night.

During the early hours of the morning the party disbands. Your guests depart. Either going to the rooms you've provided for them. Or taking various cars and carriages home. You retire to your room. Soon followed by your husband. You sit at the edge of the bed. Taking off your shoes as he goes over to the vanity unit. Lighting up a cigarette. Sitting on the arm chair. You pick up your shoes. Placing them neatly away.

Your husband draws a drag. Placing his hand down, resting on the arm of the chair as he exhales the smoke. Putting his head back as he looks at the ceiling. You look at him as your hands go up to your ears. Taking out the earrings from them. You go over to the vanity unit. Placing the jewelry onto the side. His head remains back. Not paying you any mind.

You put your hands around your back. Unbuttoning your dress as you walk over to the bed. Bringing it down your body, stepping out of it. Leaving you in your bra, underwear, and stockings. Folding the dress over your arm as you go over to the wardrobe. Taking out a hanger and placing it onto it. Stroking down the material before placing it inside the wardrobe.

"I liked that dress you were wearing" Thomas says. You look at him. His eyes now on you.

"Thank you. I made it whilst I was at the safe house. Edward got me the material". You admire the fabric one more time before shutting the door. He places the cigarette back into his mouth. Inhaling before removing the stick.

"Come here". You turn and walk over to him. Him snubbing out his smoke before you make it to him. He takes your hand. Admiring the rings on your fingers.

"These are new"

"I spent a long time in that house... so when I got out I went a bit overboard with buying things". He lets out an amused scoff. His thumb running along the jewels as he looks at them.

"A beautiful woman deserves beautiful items such as these". You smile.

"Mr Shelby, you flatter me" he looks at you. Eyes warm and inviting. Your joyous smile softening as you look at him. You bend down. Kneeling between his legs. His hand remaining on yours. Stroking over your fingers as you keep eye contact. Your other hand coming to his leg. Your finger dancing on his thigh.

"What did you say to Mrs Dickinson?"

"Oh no. You don't need to know that" you drop his gaze. Tilting your head to the side.

"Do you know her?". You nod slightly. Knowing the silence holds questions he wont ask you, but requires an answer for. You take in a breath. Looking at his leg as you continue to circle his thigh.

"I used to date her son" your voice small. Feeling his eyes on you. "We had plans to elope. Run to Scotland and get married. But his mother found out. Told him that if he married me she wouldn't give him any of her fortune". You still your hand. Taking in a breath. "He chose money. Money over love. I waited for him at the train station for 3 hours. Longest three hours of my fucking life". You remove your hand from his leg. Turning away from him as you wipe a tear that threatens to fall down your face. "Jesus fuck" you say.

He gently takes you chin. Leaning forward. Making you look at him. His grip soft as he meets your eyes. "Fuck them both, ey? Fuck 'em". You take in a breath through your nose. A slow breath as he watches your eyes. His face about a foot away from yours.

"Miss Finnl- Mrs Dickinson asked how I had managed to get married. So... I... told her that it was because of my... tits and ass". His face cracks. A smile coming over his lips and going through his cheeks to his eyes. Admiration in his gaze. His hand moving slightly. Brushing his thumb over your lips as he lets out a soft laugh.

"You always amaze me Mrs Shelby". Your eyes darting between his. Piercing blue orbs stay fixed onto yours. You move timidly. Placing your hands onto his knees you kneel up slightly. His eyes remaining on yours as you search his. Closing the gap between you. Your lips pressing onto his. His hand remains on your chin as you kiss him. You move away slightly. Noses brushing as you look at him. Pressing your lips together before speaking.

"You know..." you tilt your head slightly. Gently brushing your lips over his. "I don't have any duties tonight...". You run your hands up his thighs. Gripping near the top of them. "Betty is looking after Charles... My sisters are likely tired from the party... as are all of our guests. They'll probably sleep through tonight". You bring your hand up. Fingers lightly tracing his groin. Your lips finding his again. Kissing him as you rest your palm onto him. Softly pushing down. Palming him through his trousers. A soft grunt escaping his lips. Passed into yours as you continue kissing. His hand moving from your chin to the back of your head. Gripping your hair.

He pulls you away, hand knotted into your curls as he meets your eyes. "That pretty little mouth of yours seems to get you in trouble" he taunts. "Lets see if you can use it for more... practical uses, ey?". You bite your bottom lip. Him removing your hand with his free one as he keeps eye contact with you. His eyes filling with lust as he takes himself out of his trousers.

His cock half hard from your palming. He pushes you down. Hand still firmly holding you as he brings you closer to him. Your hands gong to his thighs as you look up at him. Mouth in line with his length. He takes himself in his hand. Gently putting the tip to your mouth. Going soft on the grip of your hair. "Open". You oblige. Sticking your tongue out as he pushes himself into your mouth. His cock growing increasingly hard by the second, soon becoming fully erect.

His hand tightens. Feeling him pull at the roots. You let out a soft whine. The action causing him to push you down onto him. Feeling him intrude your throat. You try your best not to gag as he fills you. Shutting your eyes as your nose hits his pelvic bone. He lets out a hiss before he releases you. You cough, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. Taking in some deep breaths before he brings you to his length again. Welcoming him in as he proceeds to bob your head up and down. Feeling it hitting the back of your throat with each thrust.

Your hands grip his thighs. Nails digging into the trousered flesh. "Good girl" he coos. The praise going straight to your wetting core. You rub your thighs together. Wanting some sort of friction. He pushes your down again. Relaxing your throat as he enters you. Hollowing out your cheeks as you run your tongue under him. A low grunt escaping his lips. Forcing you down more. You feel tears come to your eyes at the intrusion. Struggling for breath as you hum around him.

"Fuck" he mutters. Somehow managing to push you further down. You shut your eyes. Hands clenching to fists. Feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. He keeps you there. A deep hum coming from his throat as he deprives you of oxygen. You lightly tap his leg once you need air. Pulling you from him. You breath deeply. Chest rising heavily. Trying your best not to cough. Spit falling from your lips as you look at him. His eyes watching yours. The sharp blue cutting into you. He removes his hand from your hair. Tilting his head as he watches you. Eagerly waiting for his next words.

"Stand" he demands. You get up. Pushing yourself up on his legs. Standing in front of him as he watches you. He traces his finger over the waistband of your underwear. "Take them off". You hook your finger into them. Pushing them down, stepping out of them. His hand comes up. Barely touching you.

"Hmm" he hums. Finger going between your slit. You catch your breath. A whine coming out. "Have you been touching yourself?". Your breathing becomes deeper. Quicker. Distracted by his finger dancing on your clit that you forget to answer him. He retracts his hand. Causing you to whine out. Looking down at him. "Have you touched yourself since I last fucked you?". You feel your cheeks redden slightly at the question. Shaking your head. A soft 'no' coming from your lips. He brings his hand back up. Running over your folds before pushing a finger into you easily. A broken moan leaves your lips at the sudden intrusion. Fluttering your eyes.

"Poor thing. Completely touch starved". He rolls it inside of you. Your hand goes forward. Resting on his shoulder as you steady yourself. The other coming up. Cupping and squeezing at your still clothed breast. Eyes shutting fully as you lull your head to the side.

"Please...". You beg. Not even sure what your asking for. He lets out an almost sadistic chuckle before removing his finger as quickly as he entered. Your eyes open again. A look of desperation on your face. "No. Please". You bring your hand to his other shoulder. Running them up his neck as you shuffle closer to him. Eyes darting over his face as he looks up at you.

"Tell me what you want, love". You whine. Rubbing your thighs together. His eyes glance down. A smile coming over his lips as he looks back up at you.

"I-I want to feel good. Please make me feel good". He pulls his trouser down slightly. Letting his cock out more. Taking your hips in his hands. Pulling you onto his lap. Your hands falling back onto his shoulders.

He lifts your hips. You hovering above him as he takes hold of his cock. Lining it up with you as you lower yourself. Slowly. Feeling your heart beat fast with every inch he fills you up. You wrap an arm around his neck. The other going to his cheek as you kiss him. His arms wrapping around you as he fills you completely.

Your hand goes to his torso. Gently gripping at the fabric of his layers. His hands snake up the length of your back. Going to your bra and discarding it onto the floor. His hands coming to the front. Gently running over your breasts. You pull at his top layers.

"Off. Please Tommy" he looks at you. "Please". He moves. Removing his blazer and waistcoat. He loosens his tie. Pulling it over his head. Your hands go to the buttons of his shirt as he places his tie around your neck. Tightening it as you undo the last button. He strips himself of it. Tossing it onto the floor. Letting the length of his tie fall between your breasts.

You brace your hands onto his shoulders again. Your body flush against his as you start to grind against him. His cock molding inside of you. Hitting all of those delicious spots. You dig your nails into his skin. Whimpers and moans escaping your lips as you grind against him. His hands tracing your spine. Lightly dragging his blunt nails over your skin. The dull pain causing you to tighten around him.

"Fuck" he mutters. Arms going around you as he stands. Your legs going around his waist. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he walks to the bed. Lying you down as he comes on top of you. Kissing your neck before sitting up. Still firmly inside of you as he grips your hips. Not hesitating as he begins to piston his hips into yours.

"Shit" Your hand coming down. Grabbing at his holding you still. He takes yours. Letting you grip onto his fingers as an unholy groan scratches through your throat. Feeling your high getting so close to you. "Please. Please Tommy".

"Cum on my cock". You cover your mouth. Muffling your moan as you scream out. Your hole spasming around him as he slows his movements. Helping you ride out your high. Your breathing laboured as you drop your hand. Fingers still tightened around his. His hips still slow against yours. Eyes fluttering from the feeling. His free hand grabbing the tie around your neck. Pulling you up so your face is inches away from his. One hand resting on his chest. The other holding his wrist.

"I forgot how good you feel" he says. A whisper as he keeps you close to him. His hips still slowly moving in and out of you. "So fucking good". You tighten around him. Causing him to smile. "You like praise ey? Like being a good girl for me? Letting me fuck this needy cunt of yours" he pulls out of you. You whine at the lack of contact. His hand still gripping the tie around your neck as he kneels in front of you. Free hand coming up. Your hole slightly agape from his member as he dips his finger into you. His eyes look up at you.

"Such a pretty little thing" he lightly taps you clit with his fingers. Gently slapping it. You flinch at each hit. Over sensitive due to your recent orgasm. Both hands going down to try and stop his torment. He drops the tie. Taking your hands in one of his. Holding them to your stomach. "This is mine" he plays with your clit. Your hips stutter at his touch. "I get to do what I want with it. Understood?". You nod slightly. A shiver going down your spine at both his touch and his words. He drops your hands as he stands up. Pulling his trousers down fully. Stepping out. Leaving him naked before you. He takes the tie again. Pulling you towards him as your lips meet.

He pushes back into you. You moan against his lips. Him gripping the tie as he plunges in and out of you. You grip his neck as he fucks you. Screwing your eyes shut. Nails digging into his skin as you mold your lips to his. Muffling the noises you make as he comes closer to his high. Bringing you along with him. He grunts against your lips. Pulling away as he pushes his hips into you. Feeling him cum deep inside of you. You let out a satisfied moan. Your toes curling. Letting your own orgasm wash over you.

Leaning forward and kissing his shoulder as he gently rocks against you. Pushing his cum into you. The sound of both of your juices mixing filling your ears. He pulls out of you. Kneeling before you like a man in prayer. His arms wrapping around you. Resting where your hips meet you ass. His head resting against your stomach as you wrap your arms around his head. Holding him close to you as you shut your eyes. Playing with the long hair atop his head.

"We should get some sleep..." you whisper. He doesn't say anything. Unsure if he heard you or not. "Mr Shelby?". He moves away. Thumbs rubbing your skin.

"Back to formalities already, ey?". You feel your cheeks redden. "You can drop the nicety"

"I-"

"Unless you get off on only saying my name when we fuck". Your cheeks redden more.

"That's not... That's not what that is Mr Shelby..."

"Then call me Thomas. We are married and you did carry my child"

"Mr-" he doesn't say anything. Instead, he watches you with those damn eyes. "Thomas". He smiles.

"Good girl". He stands. Grabbing his underwear and placing them on himself. He grabs his shirt. Bringing it over to you, his arm outstretched with the fabric in his hand. You take it from him. Putting it on your torso.

"Thank you" you say softly. He goes to his blazer. Taking out two cigarettes and a lighter. Rolling one over his lips before keeping it in place. Handing you the other one. You take it. Placing it in your mouth as he lights the end for you before lighting his own. He goes to the top of your bed. Getting under the covers.

You stand up. Undoing the tie around your neck as you place it onto the vanity unit. Folding it neatly. Tommy's eyes on your thighs. You wearing his white shirt, plus the stockings still on your legs. You were an extraordinary sight. You go to the edge of the bed. Sitting onto it, placing the smoke into your mouth. Taking off your stockings and throwing them onto one of the various piles of clothes on the floor. Swiveling around so you can put your bare legs underneath the warm blanket. Taking one last inhale before putting it out in the ashtray by your bed.

You wake up early the next morning. You see Tomas still sleeping in the bed next to you. Usually he was up early working so this was a surprise. You stretch. Sitting up you look at the clock on the wall. 5:30. You let out a deep sigh. No wonder the rest of the house was quiet. You scratch the back of your head. Wincing slightly as you feel the nights events effect your body. Rubbing your forehead with your palm. You scan the bedroom. Seeing your clothes dotted around the room.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. Doing up the buttons of the shirt you're wearing before bending down. Picking up the various clothes items. Sorting through as you determine them to be clean and dirty. Thomas's jacket being clean, you sling it over the back of the chair. Hearing a 'thump' you jump slightly. Eyes darting to what made the noise. Your blood goes cold. You must've knocked his gun from the side, or it might've been in his jacket and it fell out.

Regardless. The weapon is now sitting on the floor. You kneel beside it. This item being the last thing so many men saw before they died. Your hand shakes slightly. You clench them before you trace over the weapon. Admiring the dangerous beauty. Fingers gently touching over the length of it before you get the nerve to pick it up. Laying it in both your palms as your eyes dance over it.

"I'd be careful with that" you turn your head. Thomas was sat up, watching you. His back resting against the bed rest.

"I was just- It must've fallen whilst I was tidying our clothes" you motion at the chairdrobe now in the room. He looks at it, then back at you. His eyes focusing on the weapon as you haphazardly stand. Placing it back onto the side. "Its a beautiful pistol". You look back at him. An amused look on is face. "What?"

"Revolver. Not pistol". You pause for a moment. Your brow furrowing before speaking again.

"What's the difference?" you say. An almost embarrassed whisper as he laughs. He gets out of bed. Walking over to you. You continue to look at him. Watching as he stands a foot away from you. Reaching behind you, taking the gun from the table. He holds it. His eyes on yours as he brings the weapon up. You look at it. Body stiff as he speaks.

"A revolver has a revolving chamber. A pistol has a stationary chamber". You nod slightly. Wide eyes still on the weapon. "Look at me Florence". You tilt your head up. Meeting his gaze. Unable to get how he can be so calm whilst holding such a deadly object. A slight fear in your eyes as he brings the gun down. His free hand coming up. Gently running over your cheek bone. "I'm not going to hurt you love". You nod. Timidly at first but growing stronger as your voice comes out quietly in the room.

"I know. I know". He moves his hand from your face. Holding it out, palm upwards.

"Give me your hand". You hesitate before you bring a hand up. Placing it in his. He notices you shaking "Trust me". He speaks as he turns your hand. Palm facing upwards. Bringing the gun back up. Your eyes flashing down. Placing the gun into it. Wrapping the digits around the grip. You go to protest but he interrupts you. "The more you get to know a weapon the less intimidating it can seem". Nodding slightly as your eyes stay fixed on the firearm. "Hold it here. Pull back this to cock it. Aim at whatever you want to shoot. Then pull the trigger" his fingers pointing at the different aspects.

"How do they not scare you?". Your voice quiet. If he wasn't as close as he was he likely wouldn't have heard you. He takes in a breath through his nose.

"I've been around them to long for them to scare me as they scare you". You force your eyes away from the weapon, looking at him. Blue orbs glance up into yours. "Getting better already with them". You give him a curious look. "You can actually look at me whilst there is a gun in your hand". A small smile comes over his lips. "A few months ago you wouldn't even be in the same room as a gun, let alone be holding it". You let out a small scoff. Nodding as you let him take the weapon from your hands.

"You're right. You're completely right, Mr Shelby". His face shifts. His smile growing as he appears charmed by your words. "What?" you speak softly. Placing it onto the counter behind you. He comes back in front of you. Eyes looking between yours as he has a soft yet loud smirk on his face.

"Were you so cock drunk last night that you forgot what I said?". Your face burns up at the comment. Your mind trying to remember quickly.

"I-" His smile grows. His eyes narrow marginally as he continues to tease you. "Or is it some sort of turn on - saying my name only during sex?"

"Its- its not like that. I-" you stutter. Cheeks a burning red as he smiles at you.

"Its alright love. Either way, I understand". He moves away from you. Grabbing out a clean shirt from the chest of drawers. "Get dressed. We have guests to entertain this morning". Taken aback by his words you let out a little nod. You start to disrobe and get dressed too.

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For What It's Worth - Chapter 6

Max Verstappen x Reader

Chapter 6: What line is he willing to cross? 

Chapter summary: Carlos flirts and Max is willing to risk it all to make sure he figures this out properly. 

Warnings: Swearing. 

Word Count: 2791

Authors note: Hello, I’m back, life is slightly less hectic so hello :D This chapter is slightly shorter, it has taken me forever to write and it is a little more hectic, but I am really excited with where this story is heading :D I can’t wait to hear what you all think :)

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Lando could hear people shouting for him as he sprinted through the paddock, panting as his feet hit the ground below him, pushing him forward. He would never admit it, but you and Max had made him believe in true love, that there was someone for everyone in this world that so often made you feel alone, that maybe all of those rom-coms might actually be on to something, and since you had made him believe in that, he was going to make sure he played a role in getting you and Max together. 

So he ignored the burn in his lungs and how hard Carlos’driver room door was as he ran into it, forced to spend an extra precious couple of seconds, which Max really depended on, trying to get the door open in his panic. 

Both Lando and Carlos flinched as the door hit the wall from the force that Lando swung it open and from the moment that Lando recovered from the shock, Carlos was subject to an onslaught of information that there was no way he could possibly follow. 

“Slow down!” Carlos attempted to calm his friend down all while rapidly trying to process the information coming from Lando, “Did you just call Y/n hot?”

This finally shut Lando up. 

“Like Max’s Y/n?” The nod surprised Carlos, no one ever called you hot, well, not unless it was in whispered tones far, far, far away from Max. 

“Yes, Jesus, just, were you not paying attention to anything I just said?” Lando swiftly closed the door behind him, strategically standing in front of the slight chip in the wall that now existed.

 “How can anyone pay attention-” he was getting sidetracked, he needed to understand exactly what was happening with you and Lando, “Are you seeing her?”

“Who?” A confused look instantly adorned Landos face as he tried to catch up to Carlo’s question. 

“Y/N, You know, Max’s girl? I gotta know, is it like a shared agreement between the three of you or are you actually seeing Max’s girl behind his back?” Carlos couldn't help the unamused look on his friends face and he couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him as he continued, “Or is this you asking me how to make a move on Max’s girl?”

“Actually, I’m here to warn you that she’s coming to make a move on you.” A smug grin spread across Lando’s face as he watched the panic spread on his friend, “She’s wearing a cute little sundress on top of it, determined to get her man.”

“And she thinks that man is me?” Lando shrugged before relenting and sharing a small amount of information with Carlos. 

“She isn’t sure who it is.” The frustration seeped off of Carlos, “You going to listen to me this time round?” 

“Hurry up or get out.” And so Lado began to explain the entire story, start to finish, rushing through the parts that specifically made Max look really bad, with Carlos asking him to repeat those parts too many times and finally, between the two of them, they came up with a plan. 

One that would be kind to you and let you down easily and maybe get Max to actually make a move on you, and now all they had to do was wait until they ran into you. 

_____

Max could feel his face heat up as he watched you leave the motorhome and he was ushered into yet another meeting. He was torn between desperately trying to get your attention and not wanting to look at you for a second longer because every part of him was losing the battle of not just telling you exactly how he felt. 

How had he gotten himself into this mess, how had he finally been brave enough to say how he felt and then subsequently ended up helping you look for the love of your life? A man that you clearly were more interested in than him. 

“You’re staring” Daniel nudged him as you finally slipped out the motorhome doors, dragging his attention back to the meeting. 

“How can I not? This might be the last time I ever see her without the love of her life on her arm.” Dejection filtered through his voice as he allowed his thoughts to escape him, finally allowing himself to begin the grieving process. 

“Oh, you mean you’re finally going to tell her the truth?” Ever the optimist, Daniel couldn’t help but try and be positive about the situation, knowing deep in his soul that if any two people belonged together, it was you and Max. 

“I need you to stop.” Max couldn’t handle it. 

“Stop what?” Daniel could have guessed what he meant, but he was also willing to take advantage of any opportunity he could to convince Max that all he needed was to be a little brave. 

There was a long silence as Max picked at his nail beds, seeking out any distraction from the truth. 

“Giving me hope.” The loudest Max could get out was a whisper, not risking the crack in his voice. Not risking breaking the waterline of the first tears, of many he assumed, when he truly thought about the ramifications of the situation he could only blame himself for. “Please don’t give me hope when I'm about to watch the only woman I will ever love end up with another driver.”

“All you have to be is honest Max.” The glassy eyes didn’t surprise Daniel like he thought it would, but for the first time Daniel realized just how broken Max was in this situation. What had seemed so obvious, so simple, to Daniel, was completely lost on Max. He truly did not realize that you and him were it. You were always going to be together in the end. To Max, this was the end, and he wasn’t in it with you. 

Before Max could protest an alert sounded on both their phones, the exact same message brightening their screens. 

NoRizz: Okay, don’t be mad. 

NoRizz added Chili.

Maxie: Why would I be mad? 

Chili: Because I’m standing here looking at your girl in that sundress, kind of glad you fucked up. 

Maxie: I’m going to kill you. 

NoRizz: He isn’t going to do anything. 

Chili: You didn’t tell me she looked this good. 

NoRizz: HE ISN’T GOING TO DO ANYTHING. 

BigRicc: Carlos, stay away from her until we get there. 

NoRizz: Too late. 

Maxie: What do you mean too late?

NoRizz: She saw him and now they’re talking. 

BigRicc: So stop them? Get involved in the conversation!

NoRizz: Please don’t make me do that right now. There’s a lot of touching. 

Maxie: So you’re just going to let him take my girl?

NoRizz: I mean, technically she isn’t your girl. 

BigRicc: Jesus Lando.

Maxie: I’m going to kill you. 

Maxie: Both of you. 

Daniel could literally see the water in his glass splashing over as the table shook. Max’s leg bouncing rapidly underneath the table from a combination of anxiety and rage. 

Not a single second of this meeting has been absorbed by Max and it took less then a second before Max was moving out the door of the motorhome with Daniel hot on his heels when Horner dismissed them. He rushed through the paddock frantically searching for you amongst too many people. Normally it was like you were a beacon in any space, he was always drawn to you, like you were inexplicably connected somehow, but now Max felt as if that had been severed. He couldn’t see you. He couldn’t feel you. 

He was suddenly lost. 

Suddenly your laugh rang out through the crowd and Max couldn’t help but stop for a second and admire you.

The sun on your skin as you tilted your head back, laughing at whatever Carlos has said. It didn't even matter that it wasn’t him making you laugh, you just looked so beautiful. 

Maybe he could live with you ending up with Carlos if it meant that he got to see you this happy? 

That goddamn sundress really did look good on you. 

“Carlos! There you are.” Daniel made his way past Max and over to you, glaring at a skittish Lando in the distance. 

“You were looking for me?”  Carlos didn’t even bother taking his eyes off you as he addressed the two other drivers making their way over. 

“ Yeah, I wanted to wish you luck for qualifiers, Max over here is looking pretty angry so I think I’m a little nervous for all of us out there today.”  It was both a threat and a warning to the other driver, one Carlos couldn’t help but laugh at. 

“You’re angry? Why? What's wrong? Did something happen with Horner?” Max softened entirely the moment you turned towards him, concern detached in your brows, his heart fluttered as you placed your palm to his chest, a subconscious habit you had now developed whenever Max was feeling angry or anxious, finding that the physical touch calmed him completely. 

He loved how well you knew him, even if you weren’t completely conscious of just how much you did. 

Suddenly you had turned away from him, leaning closer towards Carlos as he moved to comment. 

“I can only assume he is upset over this whole flower situation.” Confusion replaced concern on your face as Carlos couldn’t help but laugh at the cute expression. 

“Why would Max be angry over the flower situation?” Despite Max’s anxiety, he couldn’t help but smile at the exact same thing Carlos was. The tilt of your head and furrowed brows as you tried to piece together everything that was being said. 

“Because whoever sent those flowers shouldn’t be a coward and just say how he feels instead of making you run all over the grid trying to figure out who it is.”  Daniel offered up as an explanation. 

“So it wasn’t Carlos?” Max was looking directly at the driver just mentioned, the question a lot more layered than what you understood? 

“I did not get her the flowers,” a breath of relief left Max, his hand coming up to wrap around yours, anchoring himself even more in your presence, in your reality. 

He still had a chance. 

“But I did tell her that I had a pretty good idea of who it was.”  Daniel couldn’t help but feel proud of Carlos, this is what Max needed, a little bit of pressure, and they were going to make sure he was getting it from all sides. 

“And he has decided to be cruel and make me wait till he tells me just exactly who it is.” Not even your pout could distract Max from the stare he and Carlos were locked in. Carlos was going to make you wait, which meant Max had some time. 

“He has two weeks.” Two weeks. Max could do two weeks. That was enough time for him to figure this all out, “Unless he pisses me off on the track.” Another threat and warning disguised as a joke. 

Max just gave a slight nod as your head was turned away from him, a promise that he would confess in the next two weeks, a promise that he’d let Carlos win whatever he wanted if he just gave him this time to figure it out.

Max couldn’t help but think about how easy it was to get into match fixing because this entire situation has him willing to throw the entire championship out the window if that's what it took. 

“You're technically Max’s PA right?” Suddenly Lando had popped back up into the conversation. 

“I am, why?” No one liked where this was headed. 

“Could you get us all coffee?” A slap to the back of his head was followed quickly by admonishment from the entire group. 

“My PA, not yours, and she’s not the type of PA to get coffee you dick.” Max had subconsciously moved between you and Lando, challenging him. 

“Redbull, whatever, can she just please?” There was a slight desperation in Lando’s voice prompting Max to give you a pleading look, knowing that he was apologize a million times over after this.

“4 Redbulls coming up.” You rolled your eyes as you moved away from the four men, not missing the very short words Max was having with Lando regarding your treatment.

“Listen, this isn’t about, just, wait, Carlos, why did you flirt like that?” Suddenly all the attention was off of Lando and back on Carlos. 

“You flirted with her?” Daniel let out a sigh so deep it could have only come from the very depths of his soul. 

“After the way Max treated her, she deserved to have her ego boosted a little bit,” it was so obvious and so nonchalant that none of the other drivers could even say anything against it, “Plus, Jesus, that dress.” A groan left Carlos tat every single one of them couldn’t help but agree with, none of them scared of admitting it in front of Max at this point, knowing he had absolutely no leg to stand on until he made a move. 

“At least you can flirt with her.” Max couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself. 

“I mean, you could if you weren’t such a pussy.” The deadpan look he received was physically painful in its truth. 

“And she is really fun to flirt with, she gets this very rosy cheek when you do, at least it starts at her cheeks, eventually her entire chest is pink the more you -” 

“I advise you shut your mouth right now.”  Max couldn’t be damned if Carlos told, he wasn’t prepared to let him sit there and talk about you like that. 

“But apparently Carlos is so good with his mouth?” You blew a kiss towards Carlos and before he could even pretend that he had caught it, Lando had stepped in between you two, wildly moving his arms in the air, an attempt to usher off your blown kiss in another direction. 

“Don’t be gross.” All except Max and Lando laughed at his response. 

“Weren’t you just checking out my boobs all morning at breakfast?” Lando whipped his head towards Max, hyper aware of how red Max’s neck was getting. That was pure rage and Lando did not want to stick around for that. 

“You’ve done me dirty, and now since you have, I am leaving for my meeting early.” He made a big show of huffing as he turned around, urging Carlos to follow him off, all but ready to run if that's what saved his life from Max’s wrath. 

And then there were three of you, silently all deciding that it was time you made your way back to the motorhome. 

“Quali starts soon, I assume you boys need to get ready?” It was more of a statement than a question, you knew they needed to go and you were thankful for a moment to lick your wounds. That was your third rejection of the weekend and you’re not sure how many more of them you could go through. 

Before either of them could nod, you’d made your way to your work studio, ready to get this day over with, leaving Max and Daniel to get ready in their respective drivers rooms. 

As soon as Max had closed the door to his, he fully rested against the table in the middle of the room, attempting to figure out his next move as Carlos’s threat played over in his mind again and again. 

______

“Explain to me exactly how Carlos got that close to you in q3?” Daniel didn’t want to believe Max was willing to actually throw these next two weeks to keep Carlos quiet. 

“The Ferrari is quick.”  Max didn’t feel like talking, instead continuing to shove his clothes into his bag so he could just find you and get back to the hotel. 

“Not that quick. Max, you can’t let him win over some girl.” That stopped Max. 

“Not some girl.” Daniel knew what you were to him so why would this surprise him? 

“This is illegal.” Daniel couldn't believe his ears. There was no way Max was actually going to go easy on Carlos for the next two weeks. 

“I got P1, nothing illegal happened.”  He shoved his wallet into his pants and pulled out his phone ready to call you. 

“And what happens when you get closer to the deadline?” Daniel stopped him just before he could leave, stranded between the safety of the drivers room and the world outside. Stranded between a line that if crossed, he would never deserve to be a driver again. 

“She’s not some girl.” 

_____

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[amyrlinegwene]

It’s become really apparent to me how TV has changed based on the shorter seasons.

I feel like so many TV shows want to tell really in-depth complicated plots, but they’re only given eight episodes (sometimes less). And this can work if you have a smaller cast, or you are very strict about who the core cast is, for example in succession, the core characters are the family unit and the secondary characters—the people who work at the company— are not given a similar level of focus, the actors do a really great job of conveying who those characters and what their motivations are, but they still leave you wanting more because ultimately, you know, you might get a hint of something in the script that you can’t go into in depth.

I think the problem is trying to fit a really complicated plot(s) in an eight episode season that also has an extremely large cast of characters that they want to focus on. I see this in Wheel of Time, I saw it in The Gilded Age too.

And one of the main ways I feel like the stories really suffer is that you don’t really get to sit with a story or the implication of things that happen like you do if there is a longer season. For example, there’s a lot of cutaways right after dramatic event instead of seeing peoples’ reactions and afterwards reactions are implied, or perhaps you skip an important scene altogether, and then just tell people that it happened. 

And I think there’s choices that you can maybe make as a writer or a director once or twice for a meaningful reason, but sometimes it happens so often it really feels like it’s only to save time. You didn’t want to see the character having in that emotional reaction for more than two seconds because you don’t have enough time the episode to focus on them, now you have to go to someone else’s plot. Or you skipped over that explanation/event to just have the character have already found out in the next scene because you know if they were to have that scene, it would take up at least a couple minutes because of course they would react to strongly to that news. But now they have known for hours/days etc so their reaction is stale and can be implied with a withering look or a long sigh and a quick mention to let the audience know that something happened.

When you have a large ensemble cast in a short season, there simply isn’t time to give everyone a meaningful plot all the time or there isn’t time to examine everyone’s deeper characterization as a result of their plot; this often ends up with audiences wanting more and writers relying slightly on stereotypes or character tropes to help round out the character in audiences minds.

I really hope the strike helps reverse the trend of shorter and shorter seasons for television shows, because while not every show needs to be more than eight episodes, many shows would benefit from the ability to have more time to tell their story. It is wild to me that a 12 or 13 episode season for a drama series is now a long season to me.

[klausysworld]

Hey 👋 I've been watching videos of Joseph during the Liverpool convention (hope you had a good time by the way) and got the idea of a Joseph x Reader story where they meet during a meet and greet perhaps during signing?

(Started writing this and it’s kinda giving yandere!reader vibes but she just a crazy obsessed fan like the rest of us🤷‍♀️)

Also in this he is not married! And this is gonna be set in America maybe a few years earlier?

Favourite Fan

Y/n had watched the vampire diaries and the originals religiously. They were played continuously and she could speak each episode word for word. Her favourite character was Klaus by far, she loved Joseph Morgan’s acting and who he was truly.

So she saved up, a lot, and decided she would see how many conversations she could see him at.

She knew he was doing conventions in a couple states that year so decided to go and meet him.

The first time it was to have a picture of him signed as well as a photo.

When she got their, she was practically bouncing. She waited in line and finally got to meet him.

———————————————————————

Joseph had been switching between photos and autographs all day. It was the afternoon and he was growing tired. Time between each person was getting shorter and shorter but he didn’t want to disappoint any fans so he tried his best.

But when he glances up at Y/n, for some reason he decided he would talk to her for a little longer. His eyes were locked on hers, her bright smile seemed to warm him as he wrote her a personalised message on the item she wanted signed. She then shyly asked if he was allowed to hug her to which he let out a soft laugh and nodded.

He pushed his cheque back and stood up, moving around his table and welcoming her into his arms. He smiled at the way she clung to him, it wasn’t uncommon among fans. He gently rubbed the top of her back before she pulled away and thanked him. His eyes followed her as she walked away and he continued with the autographs for a while.

By his last set of photos with fans, he was exhausted and hungry. Some of the other stars were taking a break while others were flooded with people.

He sighed softly to himself, his face hurt from all the smiling but he was used it. He could feel the heat getting to him as he stood in far too many layers but nevertheless he wrapped his arm around the next person and gave an award winning grin for the camera.

He glanced to the next person and saw a familiar face, the same girl from earlier. His smile was smaller but it was real. So was hers as she quickly approached him and immediately wrapped her arms around him. He chuckled and hugged her bag, accidentally smelling her hair as he felt her face against his shoulder.

“You ready sweetheart?” He murmured softly to her and she nodded, her cheeks pink as a blush spread through her. She pulled away and turned to the camera, his arm stayed around her waist and they both smiled. He waved as she left and turned to his next person with a better attitude.

———————————————————————

He saw her multiple times in that year alone, in a few different states across different days.

He began to look for her in the line or when he was walking from photos to the autograph tables. Occasionally he would spot her, she was always already looking at him which made his face warm as a soft blush rose to the surface. Joseph would always wave at her as he went by.

By the time he got round to seeing her, he was always tired. She seemed to uplift him throughout the day.

So when he got to her again, for maybe the 7th time meeting her, he was relieved to have her in his arms again. He could hear and sense his co-stars giggling and staring as the hug lingered for longer than it should have.

“I made you something” she whispered to him as they parted and he smiled

“You did?” He asked and she nodded, holding out a few pieces of paper. One of which was a hand written letter and two were portraits of him in a remarkable amount of detail. His smile broadened and his face went pink again “you made those yourself?” He questioned and she nodded nervously.

“You don’t have to-“

“No no, I want them” he took them from her hands and she smiled back at him. “They’re wonderful, love” he told her and she looked down “thank you” he whispered “will I be seeing you again later?” He asked eagerly.

“No…not this time” she sighed softly “I booked late, couldn’t get anything else. Next time?”

“Definitely” he smiled, subconsciously raising his hand to brush her hair away from her face, ignoring the ‘ooos’ from his co-stars.

They smiled at each other and said their goodbyes before she left and he turned back to his next eagerly awaiting fan.

———————————————————————

Joseph’s friends teased him, Daniel, Phoebe, Claire, Charles. The lot of them knew, as soon as they saw Y/n coming, Jospeh would be a blushing mess.

One of those days, when Y/n was lining up for Joseph again, Daniel came up behind her. He effectively scared her and made her laugh, he whispered to her secretively and had her dial her number into Joseph’s phone.

Joseph and Daniel had been given private rooms to do their photos and signings and Y/n was the last in line for Joseph so Daniel saw it as perfectly set up. He gave her a hug and winked at Jospeh who looked a mix of embarrassed and horrified.

Once she got to him, they were both red in the face and their hearts were beating fast.

“I’m sorry” he whispered “he’s rude and-“

“It’s okay” she smiled “I know it’s just a joke, you can delete the number” she told him but he shook his head

“N-no no I’ll keep it” he whispered, his eyes trailing her body without his permission. She could feel his eyes on her and she could feel herself getting hotter

“Can I have my hug?” She asked quietly and he cleared his throat with a nod

“Yeah- yes” he mumbled, pulling her close and holding her against him. His nose buried in her hair and the soft skin of her face pressed to his neck. His eyes fluttered shut and he held her their for a short well, his hands gently caressing her hips and waist.

He knew it would be inappropriate to touch her, to think of her in any indecent way but part of him just couldn’t help himself. He was attracted to her in every way, she was so kind and thoughtful. He wondered how happy she was on the day to day. He wondered how many people got to see her big smile and get given personal gifts from her.

Sometimes he worried that it would be bad to date a fan, would he be taking advantage of her love for him? And then the worry would settle, does she like him or his characters?

It clouded his mind and he felt her pull back, looking up at his face. “You okay?” She whispered, seeing his eyes zoned out. He seemed to snap back when her hand touched his face and she quickly retracted it “I’m sorry”

“No, it’s alright” he smiled, squeezing her hand gently before stepping back. “You were here for the autograph again?” He asked, and she shook her head

“Photo” she corrected and his face went red, glancing to the camera man who was looking thoroughly amused

“Right” he whispered “a photo” he repeated and she laughed softly

He pulled her close and smiled for the camera. She was the last one so he walked her back to the door, his hand automatically on her waist as though it belonged there.

———————————————————————

After that, Joseph had very nervously sent a message to Y/n. She had assumed it was on of her friends messing with her and told him to go away. He proceeded to ring her and prove her wrong making her apologise profusely and promise she didn’t know it was him. She could hear Daniel Gillies laughing in the back ground and Jospeh telling him to shut up but letting her know it was okay.

They messaged more and more frequently, video calling sometimes in the evening.

The two would talk about the next conventions and when they could see each other again, Joseph felt bad that Y/n had to pay so much to see him for a few minutes and offered to pay for her but she always refused. Until one day, a few months later when she couldn’t afford to go and he practically begged her to send her bank details so he could transfer her.

When she came and saw him, she hugged him so tight and kissed him on the cheek. He felt like he was floating, he went to his her on the cheek back but caught her lips. He could hear people around gasping but he couldn’t care in that moment. All he could think about was her lips on him, his finger weaved into her hair and he kissed her with as much passion as he could show without putting his tongue in her mouth.

He didn’t want people getting to many pictures so he turned her around, away from everyone so they could just see his back as he kissed her gently. His hand cupped her cheek once he reluctantly pulled away, his eyes on her swollen lips before their lifted to her eyes. She was breathing fast but Joseph knew he was too.

“I hope the next fan doesn’t get that too” she whispered and he laughed

“They won’t, I promise” he murmured, kissing her once more and grabbing his pen without turning around. He scribbled his signature onto her shirt, right on her breast making her grin. “I’ll call you later” he muttered, pecking her cheek

And with that she walked away, other fans squealing and looking at her as she floated through the crowds.

[stvolanis]

Broken Heartstrings

(one shot)

warnings : dom & sub dynamics, Elvis is kinda abusive, age gap, INACCURATE TIME LINE, angst, Elvis is suspected of cheating,pet-names (baby, doll, darlin’, satin), a hint jealousy (Elvis and OC), manipulation, toxic relationship, OC is naive and kinda (not really) innocent, smut includes degradation (slut, brat), praising, dubcon-ish I guess, spitting, p in v sex, oral (f receiving),size kink, slapping (not hard enough to hurt), man handling, overstimulation, spitting, house wife kink (if you squint), stomach bulge, make-up sex, and overall rough sex. Sorry if I missed anything <3

this is my first story I’ve written for Tumblr, so it won’t be the greatest and might be poorly written to some, but I had fun writing it so enjoy to those who are interested :)

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the days grew longer as the nights seemed to be getting unbearably shorter. Lucy was sitting on a tall bar stool swinging her little frilly sock covered feet back n’ forth as she waited for her husband to get to their shared home. It was late, ‘round 12:30 and he hadn’t shown up to the dinner she had graciously prepared for the both of them. The food was getting cold and her appetite was fading, being replaced by a feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t seem to pin.

The couple had their ups and downs, as any other, but lately it seemed to be more downs. he’d come home late, his hair and clothes disheveled. sometimes he’d smell like cheap women’s perfume and other times he’d smell like gin and whiskey. he’d come home with an attitude, and take it out on Lucy since she was the closest one around. She knew he was struggling, but Elvis Presley was not one for opening up and receiving help.

the drinking and coming home late started happening after his mother passed away. he didn’t know how else to cope, so he did what he’d see his father do. he’d been chasing a high he’d never be able to reach, but his determined mind wouldn’t falter. one more drink. one more show. one more hit of whatever he was on in the moment or could get his hands on. anything to help relive the aching in his chest. It was like a poison that spread through his body, draining his energy and overtaking him. but he kept on falling deeper and deeper

but there was her. Lucy. the sweet little 20 year old who kissed his worries and pains away. Lucy, who made him feel like a young school boy all over again. Lucy , who batted her pretty eyelashes up at him when she needed some loving. Lucy, who’d perch herself on his lap and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when he was exhausted from shows, telling him everything he already knew, but it was coming from her, so he’d hear it a million more times if he could. Lucy, who was so sickeningly sweet and naive, she didn’t realize that not everyone wanted wanted to be just her friend.

Elvis didn’t like that.

Elvis knew he scored with Lucy. He knew that she was the purest thing he’d ever be able to obtain in his lousy life. the freshest, kindest and most beautiful little daisy in a field of weeds. Sure, people were throwing themselves at him left and right, but they weren’t real. Girls always on his arm, yet they only cared for his charm, fame and money. Only cared about fucking their way to the top just to be a nice trophy wife on the arm of some rich piece of shit. Running them dry. But Lucy was never like that.

Lucy was from a small town. A southern bell, and a hard worker who took care of her sick mother for as long as she could remember. She always seen the good in people, even when it seemed invisible to others. Her hearts too big for her delicate body, or at least that’s what her momma used to tell her. Lucy worked at a busy diner on the outskirts of her town, and traveling people were always in and out. So it was no surprise to her when Elvis Presley had shown up in a white button down, dark jeans and polished dress shoes with his friends following behind him.

Ever since that day, Elvis made it his mission to be with her. attached at the hip since they laid eyes on each other, and neither of them would have it any other way. But once her husband started touring again, their honeymoon phase was soon ending and arose more arguments, aggression and finger-pointing.

Elvis had promised to have a nice, civilized dinner with his wife as long as she cooked the food and not one of the maids. For hours, Lucy had been feeling waves of excitement as she cooked all day, creating a nice big meal for them to enjoy together for once. It had been so long since they sat down for dinner together. But alas, he was no where to be found.

She looked down at her hands that were between her thighs as she felt her eyes begin to water and her breathing uneven. of course he wouldn’t have come. what was she thinking? as tears began to fall, it seemed as though they wouldn’t stop. The girl wept as she began to throw away the food she had worked so hard to make.

Soon, that sadness and disappointment turned into a bubbling anger in her core. How could he do this to her? Why did she always have to be the one waiting around? She hated feeling reliant on him for the smallest things. Time, attention, love. Things no one else had ever cared to give her, but Elvis had so happily. She hated that they always fell into this routine of cat and mouse. And always, just when she’s about to call it quits, he smooth talks his way back into her arms.

Mumbling words of affirmation to her. How much he loves and cares for her, and how no one else will ever love her as much as he does. How she’s such a good housewife for him, always keeping the house together and waiting for his return like a good girl. How beautiful she is, and the things he loves most about her.

as the anger bubbled in her stomach, she could hear the booming laugh of Elvis through the halls as he cracked jokes with his choice of friends for the nights and all Lucy could feel was disgust. how could she have been so dumb?

In that moment, Lucy decided she’d had enough. She slammed the door open to the kitchen and marched her way through the long halls till she got to the entrance of the house where Elvis stood in all his glory. Oh, how pretty he looked. His smile becoming bigger as he laid eyes on his wife who wore a white, off the shoulder sundress and frilly white socks. she seemed so small and frail compared to him.

But his smile soon faded as he took notice of her puffy red eyes, red nose and trembling lips and worry consumed him. “Woah, darlin’, what’s goin on?” He asked as he took off his coat and laid it on a small round table. Lucy scoffed. “Are you fuckin’ serious, Elvis?” She said dryly as she squinted her eyes.

Elvis clenched his jaw, clearly displeased. “Watch ya mouth when ya talk to me, ya hear?” He said sternly as he pointed a finger at her. Lucy rolled her pretty green eyes. “Where were you? Huh? You were out with women, weren’t you? I can smell them on you Elvis!” She shouted as fresh tears fell from her eyes.

He groaned as he lazily dragged a hand down his perfectly sculpted face. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout, Lucy? I ain’t been with no women other than you!” He shouted back as he flared his arms out with a dry laugh. “I’m done with your lies, Elvis.” She said as she harshly wiped her tears and turned to leave.

Elvis made quick work of grabbing her arm and spinning her back around, harshly pushing her against the wall as his hand snaked up and snugly wrapped around her neck. Lucy was taken aback, Elvis had never put his hands on her in a way she didn’t like before.

“Dammit, woman, what’s it gonna take for you to calm down and stop accusin’ me of bullshit every damn day?!” He yelled out in her face. Lucy’s body wracked with sobs, and only then did Elvis realize what he’d done. He shakily removed his hands, but didn’t move away from her and instead caged her body in with his slender arms.

Lucy pushed harshly against his chest, trying to create some distance between them but Elvis wasn’t having it as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Let me go, Elvis!” She said, her voice hoarse and broken. “Need ya to calm down first, baby.” He replied as he watched her body tremble

“Oh I need to calm down? How fucking funny coming from the man who just choked me out!” She laughed out dryly as she shot him a look of disgust and anger. “I’ve fuckin’ had it with this attitude you got. After everything I do for you, this is how you wanna act?! Huh?!” He yelled as he began dragging her up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

“Stop it Elvis, you’re hurting me!” Lucy weakly yelled as his grip tightened around her wrists, surely to leave marks the next morning. Elvis played deaf as he harshly threw her onto their bed, slamming the door shut and swiftly locking it. Lucy’s body bounced as she made contact with the bed before sitting up, ready to speak again till Elvis cut her off.

“Strip.” Was all Elvis said. His voice thick, deep and velvety. Such a sweet sound. If only the words coming out weren’t laced with disappointment and dissatisfaction towards the helpless girl on the bed. Her eyes widened and her words got caught in her throat. Again. Why does this always happen? right when she’s about to stand up for herself, she always backs down the very last second and the cycle continues and worsens each time. But it’s addicting.

Sickeningly enough, she thrives in it. She’s become so accustomed to it, she wouldn’t remember how to live like a normal couple again. The toxicity of their relationship kept her on her toes, and deep down inside, she knew she wouldn’t want it any other way. How boring it would be. She knew Elvis wasn’t with other Women, because if he was it would be the cover of every times magazine and she wouldn’t hear the end of it from her friends and family. She knew the perfume she smelled on him was his mommas favorite.

As her shakey hands met the fabric of her white dress and began pulling it off of her body, Elvis rolled up his sleeves and drunk in the sight in front of him. almond green eyes, plump lips and a cute button nose that’s still slightly reddened from her crying. long chocolate brown hair. Full breasts with perky, sensitive nipples that sat ever so perfectly. slim hips and meaty thighs with a round ass to top it all off. But god, how he adored how small she is compared to him.

How tiny she is, is one of his favorite parts about her, and oh, how he used it to his advantage in the most vile ways. it was so easy for someone as big as him to completely destroy her. and that’s exactly what he does.

“Please,Elvis, m’ sor-” she tried, but Elvis wasn’t having it. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ thing from ya, baby.” He said roughly as he gripped her hair at the base and craned her neck up to look at him. her hands gripped his shirt and she felt her slick between her thighs at his tone.

Elvis brought his hand up to her mouth and Lucy stuck her tongue out, welcoming her husbands fingers that harshly hit the back of her throat, making her gag and eyes water. Elvis clicked his tongue. “How can ya take my cock when ya can’t even take my fingers, darlin’?” He chuckled out.

Her mouth closed around his fingers and she began to suck them seductively and Elvis felt his pants tighten at the sight. Pretty eyes staring back up with him, trying to prove she can.

Always a hard worker, huh?

Elvis smirked at the thought as he removed his fingers and instead harshly pushed her upper body down onto the bed, spreading her legs as he dropped to his knees. his mouth watered at the sight. Her cunt was puffy and pink, bud swollen with need and begging for attention. Her slick was seeping out, and there was a wet patch on the sheets of the bed where she had been sitting that was dark and visible. It was such a pretty sight for a starving man.

He spread her lower lips and dragged his tongue between the welt folds, gathering all of her essence. He hummed at the taste of her on his tongue before savoring it for a moment. Then, he sucked her clit into his mouth with such force, her back painfully arched. His tongue skillfully played with her overly-sensitive bud, teasing and sucking as her thighs closed in around his head.

Elvis was pussy drunk. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste of his sweet girl. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t care about anything besides making Lucy come as many times as she could on his tongue. He prodded a finger at her sopping entrance before slowly sinking them in, letting them sit before pulling out and harshly slamming back in. Lucy let out a gasp at the intrusion as he began to finger fuck her tight cunt with no remorse.

The small girl felt the coil in her stomach tighten as her fingers gripped his mop of disheveled hair as she pushed her cunt further into the dazed mans face. Elvis curled his fingers in her before sucking her clit harshly one last time, and that’s when it snapped. “Oh my god—Elvis!” She moaned out as she tried to shove his head away from her overstimulated clit, but Elvis wasn’t listening.

“Sucha good girl, satin.” He mumbled against her clit as he felt her juices drip down his chin. God, how sweet she tasted. His entire chin and chest were covered in her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d fuck up a million more times if it meant he could come back home to this.

Lucy panted, out of breath underneath him as he crawled above her sweaty body. He laid the gentlest kisses upon her skin, so tender and sweet. The flutter of his lips against her stomach had her insecurities seeping away into the cracks of the floor boards. The suckle of her nipples, and the releasing ‘pop’, followed by the countless hickies laid where they both knew only he would be able to see had her blushing madly. The caressing of her neck and the soft kiss against her lips made her forget the reason this all started to begin with.

“Ya with me, baby?” He asked. “Yes, Elvis. ‘M here.” She softly replied. Elvis took that as his sign to tighten his hold around Lucy’s neck, lifting her slightly to better look her in the eye. “Good, ‘cause I’m gon’ show ya what happens to ungrateful brats when I’m done with ya.” He said harshly as he slapped the side of her cheek with his free hand, but not hard enough to actually hurt. Just hard enough to know he was gonna fuck her into oblivion.

He spread Lucy’s legs, slapping her puffy, over-sensitive cunt. She softly moaned at the impact, making Elvis chuckle. “Fuckin’ slut.” He muttered as he lined his throbbing cock to her entrance. Elvis inhaled deeply as he slowly pushed his tip in, teasingly pulling it in and out a few times. Lucy whined. “Elvis-” she began. “Shut up, ya take what I give ya, brat.” He said sternly as he gripped her hair. Lucy nodded I obediently as she whimpered out a small ‘sorry’.

Suddenly, the larger man bullied his way inside her wet cunt and she could feel his hair against her throbbing clit. She moaned out as her hand grabbed the arm Elvis was holding her leg up with to ready herself. Elvis spared no mercy as he ruthlessly began bucking his hips into hers, not waiting for her to adjust to his size. She felt like heaven to him, after all, he’d trained her pussy to perfectly fit his cock since the night of their wedding, but after so long of going without being inside of her, she’d tightened up again. Elvis hissed as her walls squeezed him before throwing his head back and letting out a deep groan.

Lucy gripped the sheets below her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the beast on top of her used her cunt like she was a rag-doll solely for his pleasure. “Tight fuckin’ cunt, all for me, mama. Takin’ my dick so well, just like I taught ya, baby.” He said between breaths. Her chest fluttered at his praise, and her cunt squeezed tighter around him. “Ya like that, hm? Like when I tell ya how good you are to me. How nice you fit around my cock. My good girl.” He muttered against your lips as his hands squeezed her hips with such force, they’d be sure to leave a mark.

“Yes, Yes, fuck—yes Elvis. ‘M your good girl. All yours.” Lucy replied through loud moans, her breasts bouncing with ever rough thrust he planted. Something snapped in Elvis at that, and he threw her legs over his shoulder, hitting a new angle. Just the right spot to make her vision blurry and seeing stars. Her back arched as his fingers found her clit, rolling it between his fingers before rubbing it just the right way that made that familiar coil tighten again.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Elvis! p-please mm- lemme cu-cum!” She stuttered out through moans. Elvis reveled in her satisfying sounds, every thrust sent him into orbit as he became pussy drunk, completely consumed in her. He could feel her everywhere. Her soft hands all over him. Her cunt squeezing the life out of him as she was on the brink of an orgasm. the pleas of her crying aloud. Her eyes watering as she stared up at him, overstimulated.

“Hold it, ‘m almost there, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” Elvis replied as his hips shot further into hers. The sound of their sweaty skin echoed through the room, and surely could be heard through the halls. Elvis took notice of the prominent bulge on her stomach, groaning at the sight of him filling her to the brim. He pressed his hand against it. “Feel that? ‘M right here, doll.” He said, his voice laced with desire. Lucy merely whimpered, still trying to hold back on her orgasm.

The sudden pressure on her lower stomach made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she felt the coil once again snap, releasing all her juices on Elvis’ lower stomach for a second time. But Elvis wasn’t done yet as he kept his pace of pounding into her. “Please, I can’t-” she moaned out, Elvis slapped her cheek. “I told ya to fuckin’ wait, but you just hadda be a slut, huh? you’re done when I say ya are.” He hissed. Lucy moaned at the contact of his hand against her cheek before nodding her head vigorously.

Elvis felt his stomach grow tighter as he was closer and closer to finishing. “‘M almost there, j-just ho-hold on f’me, mama.” He stuttered out through the waves of euphoric feelings. All of his senses were overwhelmed and his body felt hot to the touch like it was on fire as sweat dripped down him. He slammed his cock into Lucys overstimulated cunt a few more times sloppily before his hips stilled inside of her.

Elvis soon pulled out and watched as cum dripped out of her sopping, pulsing hole before taking two of his slender fingers and stuffing it back in. “Don’t want it to go to waste, now do we?” He said with a smirk as Lucy’s body wracked with spasms as his fingers penetrated her. Lucy’s hand reached out and stilled his movements with a small whimper. “No more Elvis, ‘s too much.” She whined.

Elvis sighed. “Alright, satin, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as he got up and went into their shared bedroom to retrieve a wet cloth before coming back and gently wiping off both of their juices from her sore cunt. Lucy sighed contently as Elvis pressed a few lingering kisses on her thighs and stomach. “You did so good.” Elvis said against her lips before softly kissing her.

“Want you to hold me, please, Elvis.” She muttered back with a cheeky smile. Elvis let out a small laugh, eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Whatever you want, Lucy.” He replied as he laid in bed next to her, bringing her closer and wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. She drew small patterns on his naked chest and smiled contently when she felt his hands begin to massage her scalp.

“Yknow I love ya, right?” Elvis said as he glanced down at her in his arms.

“I know, Elvis. I love you too.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

[rogueddie]

Steve has always loved his little Christmas town. The snow, the chill, the lights. The little elves are sweet too. Everyone in his town is just... lovely. He can't think of another word for it. They are simple lovely.

But Steve is... curious.

They are all told to stay in the town. They are all told about how bad the woods are. They are all told about those who would wonder in and never come out. Rumors of monsters and man eaters...

But Steve is curious. The stories only make him want to see what's inside even more. And the more he thinks about the woods, the adventure, the curiosity... the more dull his little town seems.

Christmas is lovely, Steve knows that. Steve loves that. But Steve is bored of that.

So, he goes into the woods.

For a while, they're just woods. Steve starts to wonder if the rumors are just that- rumors. He starts to wonder if the stories were made just so people wouldn't go looking for made-up things and get lost.

But, a few moments later, he comes across a clearing. It's just a big, round, empty space. There's twelve other paths, leading in different direction. They all look vaguely the same- though a couple do look bright, just like the path Steve just came down, and one looks dark.

The dark path stands out in stark contrast to the others. It makes Steves curiosity raise it's head once again.

The path is normal, at first. Just a little dark, shadowed. But the longer Steve stays on the path, the more macabre it gets.

The trees start losing their leaves, bare dark branches curling out into the path like clawed hands. The shadows seem to move, dancing around him with what looks like curiosity. The orange leaves on the floor get louder, more frail... more dead.

It feels like a shorter path. He reaches the end faster than he thought he would and when he does...

The town at the end of the path is as opposite of his little home town as he never could have imagined. The first thing he sees is a graveyard and, hiding behind a tree, a ghost dog floating by. There's cobwebs and dead flowers on the graves.

But, given the look of everything else, he suspects those things might be respectful here.

He creeps around the edge of the woods, until he reaches the buildings, which are easier to duck behind. He makes his way deeper into the town, slowly, trying to stay hidden.

He's not exactly surprised to be caught, but the throat being cleared behind him still makes him jump.

The person is about the same height as Steve, but that's where the similarities stop. The person has pale, near white skin. Dark eyes that look almost sunken, circled by black shadows. Their long, dark hair only makes them look more pale in contrast. The fact that it's moving, without any wind, adds to Steves intruige.

He's never seen an outfit like the one this person is wearing either. Almost completely black, only small amounts of blood red, greys and silver chains to contrast. The jeans he's wearing too have so many tears, but there's markings on the skin that peaks through.

"You look a little lost," they say with a smirk.

"Oh, uh, sort of? I'm not... from here."

"Obviously," they snort, eyeing him.

Steve looks down at himself and... yeah. A white polo with pastel stripes and pale blue jeans? "Right, yeah, sorry. It is pretty obvious."

"How did you get here, lamb?"

"The woods."

"You went into the woods?" Their eyes widen, leaning forward.

There's a quiet hiss, drawing Steves attention to the ends of his hair- to the snakes starting to raise their heads, turning their eyes to Steve.

"You- you have snakes for hair?"

"Yeah! They're lovely, you don't need to fear them."

Steve looks them over for a moment. Before raising a hand a little. "Could I... touch them?"

"Of course."

"Are they ok with that?"

They make a noise- a sort of low grumble. And, for a moment, Steve worries that he's said something to upset them. But they step forward, closer, the snakes curling forward into his raised hand. They curl around his hand, seeming to rub against him like a cat would.

The person is smiling.

"Thanks," Steve says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, face flushing. "They're... very nice."

"You're scared of them," they say, but they're grinning, excited. "I'm Eddie, by the way. Local weird guy, even in this place."

"Steve," he gestures to himself. "I'm just, uh, the usual in my place."

"But you're... well. Anyway. You probably shouldn't stay too long. If little ol' me made you jump, this place might give you a heart attack."

"You're not that scary," Steve straightens up, defensive, frowning.

Eddie snorts, fingers brushing Steves cheek. "Anyone else around here would take that as an insult, Stevie."

"Oh... uh, sorry, I just-"

"No, don't worry. It's sweet." Eddie clears his throat, gently coaxing the snakes into letting go of Steves hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

It's easier to sneak back to the woods with Eddie. He often presses up behind Steve, blocking him from sight with his own body. It means they don't need to keep ducking behind cover every time.

But, by the time they reach the woods, Steve is... he's not sure how he's feeling. But he doesn't want to leave. Not yet.

Eddie gently pushes him into the woods, along the overgrown path, keeping a gentle hand on his lower back. He walks alongside him, probably making sure Steve does actually go back home.

"What if it's not safe?" Steve stops. He hopes he doesn't look as desperate as he feels. "Maybe... maybe it'd better if I stay here for a little bit. Until we're sure. Or something."

"Steve-"

"Just one night! Like... it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Steve. You don't need to worry. I'm gonna stay with you, ok?"

"But when-"

"I'm gonna stay with you."

Steve stares at him for a moment. "The whole way?"

"The whole way."

"Ok," Steve says quietly, continuing to walk, ducking his head to hide his smile when Eddie puts his hand on his back again.

Steve struggles to start making small talk but, thanks to Eddies unusual responses, he's easy to talk to. And it's not the same boring, repetitive stuff those in his home town would fall back on. Although, Eddie seems just as curious to hear Steves response to those, turning his questions back on him.

It feels like no time at all until they reach the clearing.

"Have you gone down any of the others?" Eddie asks, turning as he eyes all the different paths.

"Just yours." Steve glances at some of the others. "We could come back... check out the others?"

"Fuck yeah. You wanna try and check them all out? One a day? Wait, which is yours?"

Steve looks back to Eddies path, counting back. "This one."

"How much am I gonna stand out?"

"A lot... you don't have to come the whole way, you know?"

Eddie scoffs, bumping their shoulders. "Nah, I'm committed now. Plus... in all honesty? I kinda like the soft shit. Like, that's why I'm the weird one. Spooky and scary and dark is great! Don't get me wrong, I love creepy stuff. I love my snakes. But... sometimes a warm sweater or something clean, or light, or... soft... that's nice too."

"Yeah... yeah, I know what you mean."

"What, you like spooky and soft stuff?"

"Why do you think I went into the darkest path there is?"

"You just get more and more interesting..."

Steve is sure that the path home is shorter on the way back. He's not sure how, but he's sure that it is. He doesn't say so to Eddie, just makes a mental note of it.

Eddie is frozen at the edge of the woods, eyes wide and mouth open, looking around at everything.

"Uh," Steve clears his throat, bringing Eddies attention back to him. "Merry Christmas?"

"Is it like this all the time?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Oh, Stevie, it's so pretty." Eddie laughs, a little breathless. "I was so fucking right, holy shit."

"Right about what?"

"You are far too lovely to be the usual, even here."

part 2

[snek-panini]

It's been a month since Binderary ended but I've still got books to share! This is @worse0mens's (hi!) wonderful Good Omens series, The Blossom Realm, which starts with Omens of Another Kind. This is very much a longtime favorite of mine, an AU with a really compelling combo of worldbuilding and characterization. This is a believable grand romance that's also a court drama and a fairy tale, and it's really long (the full series is about 220k words) so it will keep you reading for a long time. This is one of the fics I learned bookbinding for, and it was the first really long fic that I typeset (and redid once I learned more about typesetting). It's been a long road but it was so worth it.

More photos under the cut!

Couple of photos of the spines. The series doesn't divide easily, with one very long work, one medium-length one, and several shorter pieces. The main story is nearly 200k on its own, the longest single volume I've ever made (about 500 pages), and I was worried about it getting too unwieldy, so I put all the other works into their own volume of about 100 pages. They make a disparate set but I love them. The cover is done in skiver green faux leather from Hollander's; I've never worked with this brand before but I loved it, and one sheet was big enough to do both books. The titles are done in cricut brand gold foil htv. There were some issues with that, as I'd bought a multi-pack with a few different colors and only found out after applying the front cover graphics on both books that one, I didn't have enough to do the backs and spines; two, that the gold in that pack is a totally different color than the gold they sell on its own; and three, that no one in my area stocked it anymore and I had to order it from Europe. Here's what the back looks like:

It's the same graphic as the front but without the title in the center, and it's one of the fanciest backs I've ever done and it took forever to weed all those little cutouts. The graphic was free to use on rawpixel. The font I used on the spines and front is a basic Microsoft font called Harrington that worked incredibly well on the cricut, even at small sizes; a lot of basic fonts are too thin, especially fancy ones, so this was a delightful surprise.

Photo of the top, with ribbon bookmark and handmade double core endbands. The endbands didn't come out as well as I'd have liked; they're a little uneven and the color changes aren't that evenly spaced. Double core ones are harder than I expected and I need more practice. The endpapers are chocolate silk moire, and I chose them because there's a very important massive tree in the fic and I thought they looked like wood grain. I did a little experimenting with the shorter volume that's visible around the edges of the endpaper. I wanted gilded edges but the longer book had to be rounded, and I thought I'd try paint instead of foil since I don't know how to foil a curved edge. But I did my experiments on the smaller volume and I couldn't get good coverage, so the edge had to be trimmed off. The watered-down paint had leaked into the edge of the silk moire too far for me to trim, so it's still there. But it's kind of pretty, so I'm going to call it an aesthetic choice.

The title pages are the same, with free graphics from rawpixel. I got lucky and found a similar set of roses that I used for the chapter headers:

These had to be positioned by hand for each chapter so they'd fit around the text properly. It was a pain but they look so pretty. The final photo contains a story spoiler, so proceed with caution if you don't want that:

The scene break image in both volumes is this tiny snake. This was one of the first aesthetic choices I made for the books. A lot of the plot is centered around a prophecy about a monster snake that everyone thinks will destroy the kingdom, and of course in the manner of Good Omens fic it's a wildly inaccurate misinterpretation and not a threat at all. I wanted something like this because the snake is not only non-threatening but it's been here the entire time and there was never any reason to freak out about it. It was surprisingly difficult to find a snake image that was both simple enough to still be clear at this size and also didn't look dangerous or like a cartoon character. I looked at so many snakes before I found this one, it's ridiculous.

And that's it! I hope the author likes it (and remembers me since I asked to do this almost a year ago). There are three more binderary posts forthcoming, though I don't know how long it'll take me to get to them. It was a busy month.

[heyclickadee]

A couple things:

1. The thing is, I actually don’t really think we’re done with the bad batch, for a variety of reasons. There’s too much unresolved, for one thing, and “end of this chapter with these characters” is not how anyone says, “We’re never touching this again.” I really do think we’re getting an immediate follow up with more of a focus on Rex and Echo, but that the rest of the bad batch will still pop in from time to time, giving all of them a chance to round out the last little bit of their stories and character arcs—because they are all just a little bit undercooked. (For example: Crosshair doesn’t even get lines after Tantiss, and the last thing he says about himself takes him from implicitly to explicitly suicidal. The hug is beautiful and cements his place as part of the family, but we never get a moment where he forgives himself or no longer believes that he deserves to die. His redemption arc is magnificent, but it needs that last little push to feel fully resolved).

And, for another variety of reasons, I actually do still think we’ll be getting Tech back in one way or another. So much of what is left unresolved in TBB forms a chalk outline around a Tech-shaped void, for one. The writers aren’t committed enough to have come up with a decent reason for why he had to go in the first place—stakes does not cut it and is actively undermined by never treating it like a character death—for another. They were, at the very least, not committed enough to actually kill him. Tech is the only character in a show that loves making us watch who doesn’t die on screen, and the only one who’s “death” moves nothing forward and is never treated like an actual death. And we have no definitive proof he actually died, for another. (Even if he was CX-2—CX-2 got “killed” two other times on screen and popped up five minutes later each time like a daisy. If you do that you’re going to have to burn the body and scatter the ashes for me to think he’s dead, impalement or no. Besides, you can’t definitively kill a main character via subtext. You still have to be clear and direct.) And Tech has too many callback lines and potential survival foreshadowing for someone to never tug on them at some point, for another. You’d have to kill me to keep me from doing something with, “Better late than dead.” Basically, tl:dr, I think Tech will come back someday, whether they have plans or not.

Because I can’t really get on board with the idea that The Bad Batch was just always badly written. I can’t agree with that. It was never perfect, of course, but it was always remarkably well written and thematically consistent for 46 straight episodes and then tripped on the chalk of the finish line. Besides, I’ve never seen bad writing that was perfectly set up amazing writing if all they did was one simple thing—ie, follow through with what they set up. It’s not that the ending is bad, it’s that it’s bad in this particularly insane way. If it was just normal bad, I’d have dropped The Bad Batch like a rock by now and done my best to forget I’d ever watched it. But because it’s bad like this—basically, a non-ending that resolves nothing but Hunter’s Cut Lawquane arc, Rampart (which was good, actually), and the problem of Hemlock continuing to draw breath (which was just the last major obstacle in Hunter’s Cut Lawquane arc, so it’s not even a separate thing) and answers NO questions—I’m obsessed.

And I can’t get behind the idea that The Bad Batch ending is like this and that we got shorted a Tech return because they got shorted a season. I’ve seen many serialized animated shows that got shorted a season or more, and what every one of them did was cut out everything they could in the middle so that they could get to the resolution they wanted, squash the originally planned last season’s arcs into the actual last season—not leave those arcs undone and the resolution out. The only way them being shorter a season works as an explanation for all of this is if the creative team found out season three was the last at the same time we did. And even then, the solution there would have been to take out five minutes of fight scene and replace it with five minutes of resolving everything in the short and stupid but still THERE way.

For example: Give Wrecker and Crosshair one line each after Tantiss that tells us what they’re going to do. Unmask CX-2 as Tech after spearing him (or don’t spear him) and add one line where Hunter says he’s recovering and that it’ll be a long road, but they won’t give up on him. Or! If you don’t want to bring Tech back in the short and stupid but there way, add a line to the epilogue where Hunter tells Omega, “I see Tech when I look at you sometimes. I don’t want to lose you the way we lost him,” which seems like a no brainer, or, “Tech would have been so proud of you,” which is absolutely a no-brainer if you actually want to close things out for Tech. Tech would still be gone, but at least it’d be resolved, and that’s all short, simple stuff you could add to the very last episode to make it feel finished. If you’re shorted a season or even a few episodes, you cut everything that doesn’t matter, you do whatever you can to get your story resolved—unless you have somewhere else to put it. Which, given how open Star Wars canon is and how heavily it relies on recontextualization, is a very real possibility here.

What I think may have happened here is that The Bad Batch ended up being the first part of a longer story that had to be artificially cut in half. Whether it was always planned that way, whether it was something that unexpectedly happened partway through the production of season three, or a secret third option (the creative team set things up to to be resolved in three seasons but always wanted to do a longer version, but the longer version (in the form of another show) didn’t get greenlit until they’d already written most of season three, so all the payoff got schlorped over to that follow up show while the payoff stayed in this one, leaving us, the audience, with this incredibly unsatisfying mess of a finale in the meantime while whoever is in charge of announcing shit at Lucasfilm doesn’t see the problem). Put a pin in CX-2, slap something that looks like a happy ending on the rest, resolve nothing, do it all in the next thing.

(Slight sidebar: If it turns out that the reason we didn’t get Tech back is because something went horrifically wrong during the writer’s strike—basically, the finale got hit with extreme budget cuts and the script patched by AI—I think we’d still get Tech back. Tech in the first two seasons was something of a writer blorbo, and no one is leaving their blorbo dead over that. That’s a good way for them to bring back their blorbo and have that blorbo murder the hell out of a thinly disguised CEO insert.)

And if that’s what we’re looking at—well, okay. I can see wanting to give certain things (especially a Tech return) more time. If this is what’s happening I actually think it will be more satisfying in the long run, from a story perspective, anyway. I’ll be able to live with that.

That said….

2. If that’s the case—if what we’re looking at is a story artificially split in half one way or another and we are getting a Tech return and the rest of the resolution eventually in an immediate follow up, something that will ultimately work really well in the long run—that doesn’t mean I think it works now. Right now, it’s awful, from every angle. We don’t know for sure that anything else is coming, it makes for a deeply unsatisfying story right now because the “ending” we have is all we have to go on, and it’s unnecessarily stressful for most everyone but especially the autistic fans who relate to Tech.

And the thing is, if Tech were neurotypical? I don’t think we’d really be question the idea that he could still come back eventually. He’s a clear writer favorite to the point that they basically gave him the entirety of season two, except the two Crosshair episodes, great lines and moments in other character’s episodes, and they apparently liked using him so much that either CX-2 was Tech or they physically couldn’t stop themselves from writing and animating Tech in a season he wasn’t in. Killing off one of the writer faves and the fan favorite in order to bring them back later is something that happens. But it’s something that hits differently when that writer and fan favorite is also the only canonically autistic character in the franchise.

Which. Is I think where we run into a problem. You see, I never really got the impression that the creative team ever thought of Tech as The Autistic One. Does that mean I think the didn’t write him as autistic? Of course not—they absolutely did, and did so intentionally. What I mean is that that wasn’t the sum total or even the primary way in which they thought of him, otherwise I think we would have ended up with a terrible Sheldon-Cooper-esque. Instead, the Tech they wrote, and the Tech we got, is just a guy. A really amazing guy who’s noticeably different and autistic AF, but treated like any other character. And on the one hand, great! I know people have a lot of different ideas about this, but I personally want writers to deal with autistic characters that way—to just write us like we’re people. And if what they’re doing is bringing Tech back later and on a longer timeframe than what we expected—also great. It means that all the ambiguity, hinting, and complete and total lack of processing or closure makes sense, because that’s how you write a fakeout death. That’s textbook how you write a fakeout death. But—but—

The flip-side of just treating Tech like any other character and, perhaps, playing a long game with “killing” him off and bringing him back later like someone would do with a fan favorite, if that’s what they’re doing, is that you end up in the situation that we’re in right now. The interim situation where it feels like Tech’s sacrifice was never given the weight it needed to feel final or meaningful, where we’re given no closure and no opportunity to let go, where we DON’T know if anything is coming next even if we do get hints, where Tech got dropped, where nothing makes sense, and where the autistic fans in the audience who relate to Tech feel like Star Wars kicked them in the face and told them that they don’t belong here.

So.

I want this to be a long game, and I do think this could, one, be a situation where they team is having to work around some kind of corporate shenanigans to play that long game, and; two, could end up being a fantastic story that I love even more than the version I wanted.

But even if I’m right and that is the case, I also hate that this is where we’re at in the here and now, that it’s hurt people as badly as it has, and think that they should never do anything like this again, because the game stopped being fun a long time ago.

tl;dr: I don’t think we’re done yet, I think this is part of a longer story, I think we’ll get Tech back at some point whether it was planned or not, but I also hhhaaaaaatte the current situation and think it’s been mishandled.

[ladylooch]

Omg I must see how timo and Liv make up? And what role Emma and Luca (maybe even lio) play in the making up. Maybe like something really big and/or exciting happens in Liv’s life and it makes her wish she had her dad around and Timo finds out and wishing he was there for the important moment. And of course starts to like Luca:))

A/N: This one got loooong. Our sweet girl liv 🥺💜

Liv cannot believe the email that she is seeing. 

She is going to be a published author! Her first publication is going to be a whole freaking book! She lays back, kicking her feet up in the air. She grabs her phone, rolling onto her stomach as she listens to the FaceTime jingle connect to her mom back home.

“Hello Livy.” Emma murmurs into the phone. It is late, Liv realizes now.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, dad and I were sitting by the lake. How are you?” Liv tries not to let her smile falter at the mention of her still estranged father.

It’s been months since the summer night Liv left home. In October, Emma had come to parents weekend on her own. Timo flew over with her, but spent all his time with Lio, giving Liv distance. Other than a few, brief moments together at Lio & Luca’s game, Liv continues to keep her dad at an arm’s length. 

“I am great. I have news.” She wiggles her shoulders. Emma perks, face expectantly glistening at her daughter. “I’m going to be a published author. My professor submitted my short story collection to a small company in Chicago. They want to do a full, 100+ page collection and publish it!”

“YES!” Emma cheers, jumping up and down. “Of course you are baby! I am so proud of you!” Emma’s eyes drift above the phone, then dart quickly back down to the screen. “So what are the next steps?”

Liv fills her mom in. This is the early stages, but because it is a shorter collection, it can be printed and released within the next 3 months. Right after Liv’s birthday is their target date. As Liv speaks, her mom moves into her office, closing the pocket door behind her.

“How wonderful! Oh, I knew you would reach your goal well before you were done with school.”

“Mama.” Liv chuckles. She is Liv’s biggest fan. The two women chat a little longer before Liv needs to head out to her next class. Before she goes, her mom has one final question.

“Is it okay with you if I tell daddy?” Emma asks, nervously. Liv nods. Despite everything, she wants him to know. 

It’s a grueling couple of months. Liv has to learn quickly to balance a long-distance relationship, several rounds of edits and her school work. Several times, she is crying to Luca on the phone that maybe she can’t do this. Maybe she should back out of the book. Luca talks her through every wave of uncertainty. 

“You can do this, baby. Don’t worry about us right now. We are solid. Worry about you and your dreams. I’ll see you when I can, okay?”

The problem is, Liv wants to see Luca. And her mom. She really needs a hug from her mom right now.

The night of the book launch, her publisher hosts a party in her honor. It just so happens to coincide with Luca’s schedule, and an off-day when the Wild are playing in Detroit. A quick flight gets him in Liv’s arms for the first time in months, where she refuses to let go of him. Lio is playing in Chicago the next night. It all perfectly came together for her big day.

For once, she is the main focus of the family.

But when her family walks in to the event space, beaming at her, Liv’s heart cracks in her chest. Discouraged tears rush into her eyes as she hugs her mom. Liv knows Timo came with her mom and younger brothers, but he is not here tonight. No one asked if he was invited; they all assumed it would be this way. Liv did too. But now that this is all happening, it feels wrong. Wrong in her heart. Wrong in her soul. Wrong in every rush of aliveness in her being.

She needs her dad.

“We are so proud of you!” Emma squeezes her tight again. “This is only the beginning. Anything you want is within your reach. I know it.” Emma squeezes her hand, then steps aside for hugs from the boys. 

Once those squeezes are done, including the half asses ones from the twins, Liv grabs her mom’s forearm. 

“Mama, can we talk?”

“Of course.” The two women leave the boys to talk shop aka hockey. “What’s up?” Liv swallows hard, looking into her mom’s brown eyes. 

“Ah… What is daddy doing right now?” Emma straightens, pausing to read every flicker of Liv’s face. 

“Um, he’s… at the hotel.” 

“The four seasons?”

“Yes.” 

“What room?”

“419.”

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Emma whispers in awe. She thinks about warning Timo briefly, but ultimately, this is not her place.

Liv’s teeth chatter the entire ride to the hotel in the passenger seat of Luca’s rental car. His hand on her thigh is the only thing preventing her from clattering off the seat to the floor mats. She keeps trying to pull in deep, calming breaths. When Luca pulls into the valet, he pauses, putting the car in park.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“No.. well.. yes.. No.” She shakes her head, unclipping her seatbelt. The valet opens her door. She swallows hard. “Could you just wait in the lobby?”

“Yes. Whatever you need, babe.”

“Thank you.” She whispers.

They walk hand in hand to the elevators. Liv’s fingers reluctantly leave his.

“I’m right here.” Luca reminds her as the doors close, separating them. When they steel presses together, her anxious expression looks back at her. She had her make up professionally done. She looks so much like her mom, so beautiful and elegant. The doors open and she walks to the left. Their room is in the corner, at the end of the hall. Before she can talk herself out of it, she knocks. 

“Baby, did you forget your… purse.” Timo asks, holding up her mom’s black bag. Timo freezes when he realizes she is not Emma. He is dressed to the 9s in his best, blue suit. A shiny black bowtie is perfectly arranged at the opening of his neck. His loafers are shined, ankles exposed, and hair perfectly slicked into place. He looks dressed for the exact kind of event she came from.

“Um, no, but we can bring that to her.” Liv blurts. She can hear her blood pounding through her body.

“Hi Liv.” Timo says. 

“Hi.”

“What… ah… are you doing here? Did mama send you for her purse?” His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “I could have brought it. But I thought maybe I’m on a certain black list. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He adds a half-hearted chuckle. Liv folds her bottom lip into her mouth.

“No, I don’t think mama knows she forgot her purse.”

“Oh. Well here.” Timo awkwardly extends the YSL shoulder bag out by it’s gold chain. Liv tentatively takes it, letting it rest in her hands in front of her. They stare at each other, not quite believing they are breathing the same air. Liv has darker hair than before. She always loses her summer highlights in the winter. Her brown hair is deep and rich like her mom’s. She’s so beautiful; Timo can’t believe she’s half him. “So, why are you here?”

“I was having a great night tonight. At least I thought I was. But then mama and the boys walked in without you and, I felt so.” She pauses, licking her dry lips and swallowing to ease the static in her throat. “So incomplete.” Timo’s eyes drop to the floor. “I don’t want this night to happen without you. It won’t mean as much. Everyone important is in that room, except for you.”

“Sweetheart, if mama told you I was sad earlier and you feel like you have to invite me, you don’t. I don’t deserve to be there.”

“I am not here because of mama. I know we have a lot to talk about, but I really want you there with us. Will you come back with me?”

“Yes.” The rush of air from Timo is immense. He sucks in a shaky breath after, trying like hell not to break down into sobs. “Of course. Thank you. Liv, this means.. so much to me.” Timo turns to go back into the room. “I’ll grab my wallet and we can go.”

“Okay. You should know Luca is downstairs. He brought me here.”

“Okay. That’s great.” Timo nods, searching under his clothes, trying to find his wallet. “Here it is.” Timo chuckles. “Your mom still insists I need a chain on this but… yuck.” He shake his head.

“Not fashionable at all.” Liv smiles, knowing her dad’s preferences all revolve around the season’s hottest trends coming out of Italy. Timo puts it in the inner pocket of his suit jacket as he looks at his daughter.

“Livy I am so proud of you. And I love you so much.”

“Do you?” Liv whispers. Timo’s face shatters, cheeks tight with emotion. 

“Yes. Every day of your existence. I used to cry at the mere thought of you in my arms when you were in mama.” Liv knows this. She’s seen the videos her mom took of him wiping his wet cheeks. “Although I know I have not gone about this the best, every thing I’ve done has been with your best interest in mind… keeping you safe too. But you are grown up now. You’re way smarter than me and it’s your life. I respect that.” 

“Daddy, Luca and I are in love.” Liv says as she steps towards him, putting herself into his arms.

“I know, hon. Mama told me.” Timo responds. “Heard about your birthday too… The celebration you always deserve.” He trails off. “Sorry I missed another one.” 

“You’ll come over next year?” 

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Liv rests her cheek on his chest, closing her eyes as he hugs her close.

“Are those the cuff links I gave you?” She wonders after they separate.

“Yeah.” Timo chuckles, bringing his wrist up for her to see. 

“Remember when I thought those were just my initials?” She grins, looking up at him.

“Yeah…. Your mom and I couldn’t think past L I guess. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, you kept me as the only girl and that seems better.” 

“Our perfect girl.” Timo murmurs. “Let’s go. I wanna tell everyone all about you being my daughter.” 

Timo and Liv head down to the lobby where Luca waits for them. He grins wide when he sees the two Meiers walking towards him. Liv is so happy. Her arm is laced through Timo’s and they laugh about Emma forgetting her purse and still not realizing it. Timo’s smile stays even when he sees Luca. 

“Are we ready to go back?” Luca asks. 

“Yeah. We are all here now.”

“Hi, I’m Timo, Liv’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.” Timo grins. Luca laughs, shaking his hand solidly, while going along with it.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. You should know I keep my hands to myself, sir.”

“I’m sure you do.” Timo chuckles. 

“Really?” Liv asks Luca.

“It’s funny. We’re laughing, no?” Luca laces their fingers together then opens the door for Liv so she can walk through first. It takes everything in Luca to not let his eyes drift to the sweet curve of her ass in that dress.

Things with Timo may have calmed, but Luca knows better than to press his luck any further tonight.

Plus, tonight isn’t about any of them, it’s about Liv. And she deserves the best.

[perlukafarinn]

This has been done a million times before and no one asked but I decided to rank the songs from Nerdy Prudes Must Die.

Let's go Nighthawks!

15. Cool As I Think I Am

I actually do love this song but when I listen to the full album, it’s one of only two songs I sometimes skip. The sound of it is very sweet, just like Pete, and it’s a great song to establish his character and his conflict in stepping outside his set social role (also props for originating the “I’m not a loser” refrain that repeats several times throughout the show to great effect). It’s just maybe not as exciting as the rest of the songs on the list.

14. Bully the Bully

Very catchy and fun, and the “cool beans” verse holds a special place in my heart (as do Grace’s little spins). Half the fun of it are the (very cute) dance moves which makes this song a little less effective when just listening to it. I love the guitar riffs and hearing all the nerds teaming up and happy for the only scene in the entire show.

13. Bury the Bully

I don’t usually prefer the shorter reprise but this song is too unhinged for me not to love it. Some highlights: Grace’s immediate acceptance of the situation and detailed knowledge in disposing of a body (and the casual “how else he gonna fit?” like she’s not suggesting something absolutely psychotic), “oh god, she’s snapping again”, Ruth coming around faster than the rest of the nerds because she’s apparently only slightly less unhinged than Grace, the discordant slamming on the piano keys after every “hack all his limbs off”.

12. Dirty Dudes Must Die

Would be much higher if only it were longer. This was the heel-face turn I was waiting for and Angela absolutely kills it, the deranged energy is off the charts. Grace singing “who will pray for you” and pointing at the audience gives me chills as does that final “run”. It feels like another story is just beginning.

11. Go Go Nighthawks!

I love all the sounds in this song - the beats that sound like lockers closing, the school band drums and trumpets, the jocks grunting and the “caw caws” from the cheerleaders. They add so much and convey such a strong sense of the setting, a must for a show that doesn’t really have any sets lmao. Also, fuck Clivesdale!

10. The Best of You

This song is just super cute and it makes me happy to listen to - Lautski own my entire heart, I can’t help it. Many have pointed out the Disney channel sound of it but it also reminds me a lot like those mid 2000s pop punk British boybands (think McFly and Busted) and I think that was deliberate with the British accent Joey and Mariah put on a couple of the lines. Anyway, I love how overwhelmingly bright and happy this song sounds, because it almost rounds back to sinister as you just know this can’t be the end of the show - we don’t get endings this happy in Hatchetfield!

9. Just For Once

This is the other song I sometimes skip but only because it’s five minutes long and such a character piece that I’m not always in the mood for it. Lauren blows me away with her ability to perform in character. That switch from Ruth’s amateur acting in the verses to the more sincere chorus is so beautiful. And that ending, oof. “I used to dance”, gets me every time.

8. Hatchet Town

I love a good mob song and this is an all time favorite for me. The Hatchetverse has been successful in establishing a multitude of interesting side characters that make the world feel lived in and that really pays off here; the song works if you don’t know most of the characters but it’s so much better if you do. 

This is the first scene in the show that expands the story outside the school and the characters there, and it makes the danger feel all the more pressing, especially with how frantic and sinister it sounds. It’s also endlessly quotable; in a way, aren’t we all Dan Reynolds (with Action News, weekdays at 10 PM)?

7. Dirty Girl

Seems like I’m a much bigger fan of this song than many but I could never resist a musical theater song about sex. I love how weird and gross this song is while also containing some masterful lyrics. I love this bizarre look at sex through Grace’s warped, sheltered worldview. Most of all, I love that this is the first time we hear the line “will you pray for me” in the show and every time it appears after it’s in a wildly different context.

6. Cool As I Think I Am (Reprise) 

This song makes me cry and I’m not afraid to admit it. It's the way Pete starts the song being so brave and so gentle as he convinces Steph to make an impossible choice, how they come together in the middle of it, finally completely honest with each other about their feelings, and how at the end the song slows as they’re both overwhelmed by the tragedy of the situation. “I’d have to let you go” let me go curl up and cry for a week, maybe.

5. High School Is Killing Me

A killer intro (heh). This is how you set the mood for a show! The slow start with Richie and Ruth is perfect and then the beat kicks in and I ascend to a higher level. A really strong aspect of the songs in this show are the harmonies and we get some incredible ones here - they sound so good together. This may also be the catchiest song on the soundtrack.

4. The Summoning

Oh my god this song!! First the intro with the chant, the trio’s bright voices underscored by the creepy whispers in the background, and then the descent into immediate chaos as soon as the Lords enter. I guess this is more of a “theatrical” song in that it’s not really something you listen to out of context of the musical but it works so incredibly well in context. Hearing all five of the lords together and taunting our protagonists is so insanely good. And I love how this song works musically, too, with the guitars and drums in the louder parts almost battling it out with the piano in the slower parts. Jeff Blim really popped off with this one.

3. Literal Monster

God, the foreboding atmosphere in this song is unmatched. The incredible build-up to our antagonist, managing to make a believable threat out of a cliched high school bully. Kim Whalen belting “He roars, and we cry” lives rent free in my mind. And then Will Branner shows up and lives up to every single expectation instantly. 

2. Nerdy Prudes Must Die

Extremely basic opinion to think this song is great (the real unpopular take might be that it’s only number two) but what do you want me to say? That the similarities to the Halloween theme don’t make me wanna clap my hands with glee? That the music and lyrics don’t both absolutely slap? (“Will you pray for me” I will give you my entire life actually) That Jon Matteson belting “I’m not a loser” might not be the single greatest moment in the entire show? This is why they invented musical theater. I will take no further questions.

1. If I Loved You

Look I am Lautski trash, I will fully admit that, but this song is also just a bop. It’s the most fun song in the show to sing along to, by a mile. It is young, stubborn love boiled down to its most entertaining bits. It is two people almost coming together but missing each other by a hair and that hair is having too much pride to be the first to admit you’ve got a crush. This song has drama, it has fun, it has two characters vehemently denying their feelings for each other while insisting the other only deserves the best. “Don’t need a lover boy, need a lover man” marry me, Mariah Rose. How about that? Also, Joey Richter’s improvement as a singer has been severely underappreciated and this song shows his voice off perfectly. 

I am ranting but that’s because I cannot coherently express how much I love this song. In a soundtrack filled with nothing but hits, this one hits me right in the heart. 

[wiseoldowl72]

The Longest Night

I am so happy to be posting this one. It's for the Christmas SPN prompt fill Mistletoe. If Paganism, Old Gods, Yule, and Winter Solstice rituals are not your thing, them skip this. If not please enjoy. I enjoyed writing this one.

Day 8 - Prompt Mistletoe

They were at the edge of the woods at sunset. It has been a warm day for December, needing only fleece jackets. The evening wasn’t supposed to get much colder, not too much more overnight. A blessing since the weather this time of year has always been so unpredictable.

The path was well worn as they saw it through the last of the sun’s rays.. Packed dirt with fallen leaves and branches that had been trampled by both human feet and the wildlife that lived in the area. It was wide enough for two men to walk abreast with room to spare on each side. The animals solidified it over the years as a game trail to get to various parts of the woods.

They held hands as they started down the path listening to the skittering of squirrels on the bark and branches of trees, the last of the birdsong for the night, and the sounds of feet and/or hooves on the fallen leaves. There wasn't going to be very much moonlight to illuminate their walk that night with a new moon expected only a couple of days later.  Sunset and sunrise came early this time of year.

For this reason, they brought candle lanterns that had been used for generations. Their slow, leisurely pace took them to a clearing that ran beside a stream deeper into the wooded area on the land that the Winchester family had owned for over 250 years. Tonight they would participate in the annual Winter Solstice ritual of celebrating the Longest Night.

There was the picnic table they used often in the warmer seasons. A place to come and be alone. Enjoy a meal and maybe a nap together with the sound of birdsong and the babble of the water over the rocks. Slowly over the years it became their secret garden. A swing, a hammock, favorite soft pillows and blankets, and a firepit for evening relaxation among the stars.

But tonight the picnic table held items for the Yule celebration.They prepped for the ritual earlier in the afternoon, so that everything would be already in place at sunset. A red tablecloth had been laid across the wooden top with discarded antlers that had been collected during the fall. Lanterns holding long burning candles were set in the corners. Evergreen boughs wrapped loosely with gold and white ribbon were laid intermittently around the lanterns and antlers. There were a couple of large wooden bowls in the center of the table. One held pine cones spread with peanut butter and rolled in seeds, nuts, and peeled citrus as an offering to the animals they shared this space with. The other held herbs and spices: cinnamon sticks, cloves, chamomile, orange peels, and frankincense. Sprigs of holly and mistletoe rounded out the table. 

The table was moved near the fire pit and a freestanding swing to make a triangular area ritual. This night they would remember that it was the longest night of the year, the night of the duel of the Holly King and the Oak King. The Holly King had reigned from Summer Solstice until tonight. The days had gotten shorter and the nights longer until this six month mark and other major Solstice. On this night, the Oak King returned to take over from the Holly King and bring back the sun. He reigned until the the longest day of the summer, when the duel between the two aspects of the Old God happened again as the Wheel turned and the days got shorter again.

They sat alone together at the table giving their offerings, remembering their connection to the Old Gods and their connection to the living world. They ate a light meal of roasted meats, nuts, and berries with mead made from local honey as their choice of drink. It was a night to remember the hardships of the centuries, as well as prosperity. They silently thought upon the sanctity of this night. The stories brought over from Ireland to the tales of forging a new life in America. They toasted to the years their families had made these same offerings in this clearing honoring the Old Gods, their ties to the Old Country, and their successes on their farms over the generations. They also made a special toast to their relationship and to its continuation.

Then a bonfire would be made with oak, birch, and ash. It was started by candle, as it had been for as long as anyone remembered. Once it was going strong, an oak log wrapped with dried ivy vines would be set in the fire. Dried holly sprigs would be tossed into the flames with remembrances of the year and hopes for the new one.

After their entreaties and silent devotions at the fire, they moved to the swing to settle in for the vigil. The swing had comfortable pillows and warm blankets waiting for them. They drank the rest of the bottle of mead as they sat all night feeding the fire, talking about everything important in their lives and their gratitude for seeing another turn of the wheel.

Just after the first rays of the sun rose above the horizon, they allowed the fire to burn down to coals. With their Longest Night Vigil completed for another year, they took a sprig of Mistletoe from the table and with their hands entwined they lifted the sprig above their heads. They leaned in slowly and gave each other a gentle, but sensual kiss. It was their official end of the ritual. 

“Mo Grá,” Dean said softly to his husband.

“Mo Grá,” Cas repeated.

They made sure the fire was out, blew out the remaining candles, and turned to walk back to their house at the edge of the woods. They would clean up the area later, but for now the husbands wanted to curl up asleep in each other’s arms having completed their Vigil and welcomed the Oak King for another year. 

[thesherrinfordfacility]

So something terrible happens which makes future Crowley go back to try to fix it and there's just 2 Crowleys running around in the present? Oh, and thanks for explaining!

Regarding not taking yourself seriously: I may not be entirely convinced by this particular theory - or any, yet - but I don't think time travel is completely out there or impossible either. Considering the way Adam resets things after the failed Apocalypse, the timeline clearly can be messed with, as can time itself, as Crowley repeatedly demonstrates. I saw the post you reblogged about the rugs and we are rapidly moving out of the territory of plausible deniability regarding the sheer number of bizarre continuity errors. Any one or two of them on their own, yes, but collectively?

If you do go looking back through the minisodes, Crowley's hair seems to go shorter-longer-shorter in Job and his sideburns look like they get quite a bit shorter in the crypt in the Resurrectionists. I didn't see anything in the Nazis minisode, but that doesn't meant nothing's there.

further ask:

hi anon!!!✨ first of all, im so sorry for not getting round to your asks until now!!!

re: first ask - mhm that's the half-baked idea, anyhow!!! and tbh 💀 im not completely convinced either but i like to entertain the possibility just out of Fun, so here we are!!!✨ oh god The Rugs - so the red one, that appears during the ball? okay sure i can accept that it is part of the Austen Aesthetic, and once the magic lifts it shifts back to the normal s2.

as for the s1 one... im torn. because i saw the amazing post where they hand-painted the mf sink tiles bc they would be in the background of a couple of shots, and wanted to at least be as close to the s1 ones as possible (GO crew honestly do the Mostest). and yeah okay, re: the difference between the s1 and s2 rugs, maybe it's that they thought 'well it's going to be on the floor most of the time and therefore out of shot' but. there are two shots that literally focus on it. as the focal point. so to my mind, they either literally couldn't find a like for like replacement (completely valid), or something Fishy is going on.

ive seen a couple of people remark on the flashbacks potentially being skewed because they're from aziraphale's perspective, but ive genuinely had the half-baked idea that the whole season is. there's so many in-story indicators, to my mind - biased red/yellow colour grading, the cartoony loch ness animation in ep3, and tbh the whole ball thing - and i do wonder if this whole rug sitch (as well as other Unexplained Things) might be chalked up to this very thing; that we are seeing s2 for the mostly part literally through aziraphale's eyes, and that what we see is a little... altered. magicked. as i said, half-baked idea, but there we are.

i did end up going through ACtO, and it's currently sat in my drafts at the moment because... well, idk what to make of it. the scenes where - by my estimation - he has the longer, more defined-curl wig, is every shot in job's house (three scenes, iirc), and so it might actually, if you consider that these scenes were likely filmed in alternative days to the other ACtO scene, a plain continuity/wig-availability issue. plus, when looking at the dialogue, all the scenes in some way link together (so i don't, essentially, think it can feasibly be the same time-travel theory). the only thing, i guess, that still remains valid is that we are seeing a recount of the events of ACtO as per aziraphale's retelling... but even then, there are plenty of scenes where they are very heavy in the crowley perspective (ie it doesn't feel like aziraphale is fudging anything), so this doesn't 100% feel like a true explanation either imo.

i do still need to look at the resurrectionists minisode though, so may well be able to parse some crackpot musing once ive done that!!!✨

[phoenixcatch7]

Ladies and gentlemen please welcome to the stage my newest hero forge model!

Good grief this colour scheme fought me.

This is an au (?), a crossover between ff7 and Belle/The Dragon and the Freckled Princess, which takes place half in reality, and half in a futuristic virtual world simply called U, where the main character (Belle) debuts as a singer as a way to process the trauma of her songwriter mother's death. The technology of U enables it to create virtual avatars that 'draw out the user's hidden strengths', whether they like it or not.

As you might have guessed, this is what a young sephiroth stumbles upon, finding an escape from the labs and something captivating he's never heard before - music.

The vr world is always something that's absolutely fascinated me, and the expressive, vibrant, community based world in belle is really different to the normal scifi dystopian armpit of society that it often gets presented as, so of course I loved it immediately. Much closer to the real world comparison of vr chat than what the scifi novels present it as XD.

But the themes of escape and being thus able to process trauma is something else, that I really wanted to explore with sephiroth. I've made a couple of aus already, but this is the first one I've knuckled down and designed.

It's a pretty young sephiroth, starting just before/at the start of ever crisis and the wutai war, but in U he's aged up just enough for people to let him roam unsupervised, as it seemed to do for belle. I'm thinking late teens/vaguely androgenous first year at uni kid.

I made the build a lot slimmer and a bit shorter than his adult self, and all round a much less intimidating figure, less passively scary and off putting. Give this kid a chance to not stand out so immediately. And with the themes of finding yourself, processing trauma, I thought it'd be very interesting to think about how that might present, as reclaiming bodily ownership and autonomy. To this end, I added the tattoos, the sleeve on the arm (I was thinking a wing or animal? But I like the vague patterns, the tattoos most meaningful part is its existence as decoration), and the face markings as a nod to the original belle, who becomes an aunt/mentor figure during the story. And a piercing or two and a couple rings 🤭

The black and white hair, because I couldn't bear to get rid of the white entirely (and he should own it) and as an idea of what his hair might have been without jenova cells - both hojo and Vincent have black hair. Tied back a li'l fancy so he can have some pride and effort in his appearance, expose his face a little more without hiding it behind those awful bangs. I imagine it longer than the model goes, but eh. The eyes... I dithered over slits, or blue eyes, but in the end green is just his colour, you know? But a way to escape those unique pupils, the inhuman, the strange ones, I imagine it's something young him would jump at the chance for. Just to be normal.

The wings, they represent the wings of his safer/seraph true form, with that purple stripe rather than the fade but hero forge doesn't do wing patterns (yet) :(. Coming out of his lower back rather than his ribs like his black wing does, I'd put more but his hair needs some presence XD.

The outfit was a TRIAL but we got there. I wanted something modern and sorta k-pop young idol, but practical to fit his standards. I eventually managed something that struck that balance, I'm a lot happier with it than I thought I'd be! It's something you could see simultaneously on a strobing stage and on a final fantasy battlefield lol. Please imagine as many belts as you want! The headpiece thing is supposed to be one of those head mics, but it didn't convey the vibes so I gave him a proper mic as a prop ^^.

If you look at the gloves (white to og sephiroths black) - and the pendant - you'll see tubes of mako coming in and out of his arms. This is a nod to the fact that he (is heavily traumatised and objectified) was, as far as he knows, made up of mako, a weapon, a tool, made to find the promised land of infinite mako for shinra, charged up with it like a battery, woven into his dna, more cyborg robot than human all his life in the sterile labs. Again, it's ✨self expression through acknowledging and processing trauma✨

I'm also sooooo delighted with the face, the expression, I really am!! I wanted to try and capture a muted wonder and triumph, a brightness in the eyes. He's just performed his first proper song to the roaring applause of the crowds, proving his worth on his own without the labs, without slaying hundreds for a war other people believe in. He's built an identity outside of shinra, and it's good.

I tried to make it look like young sephiroth kinda sorta, but I'm face blind so if you've read this far, tell me how I did XD?

[erigold13261]

Small story/anecdote thingy I think. Just some feelings about the Eriverse and junk that I need to deal with at some point instead of pushing it to the back of my mind.

You know how when you play a game so much, usually a game like Sims or a simulator game (Stardew Valley or others like that), and you hit a point you want to just start over with a fresh batch?

I get that feeling a lot with those games. I would make one family of sims and turn off aging just so I can be with them for a long time. Then I would get bored, make them have kids and have a small spark of fun for a bit before wanting to reset everything and start from the beginning all over again.

It happens a lot with idle games too. The struggle of the beginning is the most fun part to me. So getting so far into the game there is nothing else to do just makes it pointless, so restarting is the only way I can really find motivation to keep playing.

I say all of this because I've honestly been wanting to reset everything recently. Maybe because the Eriverse is getting really complex and fleshed out (definitely not a bad thing at all), but it's becoming like... overwhelming? Maybe that's the word for it?

Like I am definitely having fun! There is no doubt about that! But the story was not made with other media in mind. It was just supposed to be NSR and NSR only. And even then, I've gotten so far into my own headcanons for NSR characters I have been thinking of resetting myself and my mind for a long while in this area.

I think this is why I like AUs so much. It gives me a break from the longer storyline as a whole and allows me to play with different aspects of a character I find important than the ones I ended up originally choosing.

This is also a thing I do in Sims and Idle games. I will play the first round for a very long time, getting really far until I get bored. Take a break, and then reset. But each reset is just shorter and shorter until I abandon the game for a LONG time and come back to have along playthrough again before doing my shorter resets.

I used to have a story with multiple medias in my mind (mostly animes, creepypastas, and horror movie villains) that I kept up for YEARS. Like all throughout middle and high school. Very in depth and complicated. Similar to how I am doing the Eriverse.

And I just gave up on it. Haven't thought about that stuff in YEARS until this moment. It was the center of my life and I just gave it up because I found something more fun at the time? I think that is what happened to me.

Anyway, I don't know why I said this. Just something I've been feeling for a very long time. It happened in a few roleplays I did when I was younger too. I just kept making it more and more complex, and that kind of like... ruined it? I guess.

I'm not saying that Eriverse is ruined for me at all. I am still very much going to continue talking about it and stuff (I still have PLENTY of stuff queued up for like another couple of weeks), but just like... maybe I'm getting burnt out because the story was never meant to be like this?

I'm sure if I had actually planned shit out I would be a lot more happy and ecstatic for this story, which is why I am really happy to think of the Future Act which is being planned for multiple media than the Present Act of the Eriverse.

I don't know. This was just a ramble. I'm not resetting anything, maybe if I do it will be a soft reset. But I guess I just wanted to say this out loud (or you know, write it out loud lol), just so that it was out there and not just stuck in my mind.

It's like this depression that hits once you lose a hyperfixation or end a really good TV show. That in-between phase that feels empty and void of a lot of emotions.

I definitely still love NSR, a lot more than any of these other medias I am talking about, but I was loosing the love for NSR a bit and decided the best course of action would be to do a crossover.

Which turned into all this Eriverse stuff. Well, I guess even before the NSpidR AU crossover stuff I was kinda running on fumes by just adding more OCs into NSR instead of playing with the canon characters themselves. Which was the start of the complexities that kinda made me want to step away from NSR in the first place.

But it feels like I have nothing else. I am not attached to any of these other medias like I am NSR. Even now, if there was no connection to NSR, I wouldn't give a shit about making art or content at all for HFR, Psychonauts, Spiderverse, Homestuck, or JJK.

NSR literally is the glue for me and I've been wanting to reset my version of NSR for at least a year, maybe 2 years now. Just to go back to canon and start making a new version of NSR that is different from the one I built up in my head after all these years.

I guess it's my AU brain doing this? Wanting to always have a new "what-if" scenario to play with? I don't know. It makes me sad.

Sad that I can't just love another media with the same love I have for NSR. I literally can only have one main media at a time until I throw it away for something else entirely. Then it becomes a sad memory or a passing thought that takes over my brain for like a week before I go back to the new main media I am in love with.

It sucks. It honestly really does. It reminds me how I just can't do major things at the same time. I can't watch JJK and read Homestuck at the same time. I can't learn to drive and be in college at the same time. I can't do shit half the time because I am too busy doing another thing.

I can't fucking multitask properly and it fucking sucks. It impacts my everyday life, work life, fandom life. It is all just one thing or nothing at all. And once I put everything into that one thing I get sick of it and want to throw away years of work just because I am bored as shit and want something new in my life.

Sorry. I don't know what I am really trying to prove at this point. I am just sick of my brain telling me to reset my ideas and headcanons over and over. I want to go back to when I first was introduced to NSR, when there was an active community, when I had a lot more online friends.

It all just feels like it fell apart and I ma just screaming into the void. Even though I fucking know I'm not because I have so many people sending me in asks and actually interacting with me.

Maybe it's because I can tell that my followers' main focus isn't NSR anymore like it used to be. I get so many more asks just about Spiderverse, Homestuck, and JJK with only a few mentions of an NSR character and it just feels like... Like I am listening to other people talking to me about their interest that I kinda share.

I know that sounds fucking rude and shitty. Because I really do love hearing other people's opinions and headcanons, even if it isn't for NSR characters, but it's almost as if I'm just not interested in hearing it, even when I am!

I actively can't think about these other media's unless they connect to NSR. And when they don't then I just can't give a shit. I have an ask for Sam and Dion sitting in my inbox that I want to answer but I just can't fucking actively think of an answer or a drawing without seeing the ask because I can't give a shit about them outside of asks!

It fucking sucks so much! I want to think more actively about these other medias! I want to be able to come up with my own headcanons and not just piggyback off of others!

Do you know how much it fucking sucks to know people want to hear my headcanons for characters like Peni, Kento, Sam, or any other character I fucking love but I literally just can't come up with shit for them at all?!

I feel fucking awful when someone puts their heart and soul into an ask about a character with such an amazing headcanon and I just can't care about it at all!

I WANT TO FUCKING CARE ABOUT IT! I WANT TO CARE ABOUT YOUR HEADCANONS! I WANT TO HAVE MY OWN I CAN ACTIVELY SHARE WITHOUT NEEDING TO BE PROMPTED FOR AN ANSWER!

This fucking shit is going nowhere! I hate this so much! I thought talking about this would make me better but it just makes me think I am not appreciating the little community I made and I fucking hate myself for it!

I really do appreciate you all for sending me in asks. I have so many I still need to answer but damn. I think the reason it takes me so long is because I just can't actively think of these characters outside of asks being sent to me.

I don't daydream about half these characters like I do with NSR characters. I wish I could, but I just can't seem to do it.

. . .

Okay, I'm done. I think I got it all, or at least mostly, out of my system. I just... wanted to share that I guess. I don't know.

Sorry. You don't have to change your asking habits for me. It's fine really. I think I just need to visit source material again for most of these media. Maybe that will spark something in me.

I did get the two Spiderverse movies recently. Maybe I'll watch those again and replay Psychonauts when I get the chance.

Anyway, anyone who actually read this, thanks. I'm not resetting or ending the Eriverse at all. This has been stuff in my mind for probably years now (even more so actually since I abandoned my first major multi-media daydream).

Hope everyone is doing good. I'm gonna eat some chocolate and watch fun videos to just ignore my problems.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 300,

It’s been raining hard all day.  As I write this I’m passing the time, waiting for it to let up so I can make the walk back to the house.

The day’s been a slow one.  In lieu of being able to go outside for recess, I wound up giving the kids free (supervised) reign to draw on the blackboard while Cass took those who weren’t so interested in that down to look around the archive.  She seems to enjoy being the oldest one in the room and trusting her to take care of things down there without me was an apology of sorts for the other day.

At the end of the school day, with the rain being the way it’s been, more than a few of the kids opted to wait for it to let up before heading home.  Same as I’m doing now, really.  This led to an additional round of storytime while waiting for that.  Said story got cut short by the only break in the rain we’ve had today.  

Foolishly thinking the weather might stay that way, Cass and I spent the next couple of hours going over potential stories for telling at the inn tomorrow evening.  Of course, by the time we were through with that the rain had returned.  With a shorter walk to deal with, Cass went ahead and left.  I stayed and had a bite for dinner while gambling on the rain letting up instead of getting harder.  It looks like I’ve lost that bet with myself and now it seems the wind is picking up too.  Between that and the fact that the sun will start setting before too long, I should probably just go ahead and leave now if I’m going to spend the night at the house.  Sure, I could just walk over in the morning, but the more time I’m at the house, the more chance I have of being there if when Maiko returns.

*******

Once more I have danced stormy-eyed in the night, reveling in the words of what the thunder said.  

As I attempted to return to my home the wind tested the umbrella.  Lifted it.  Threatened to invert and break it.  It was strong but I sensed it would not hold.  I folded it down and hid my bag of writings within the collapsed canopy.  If it could not shield me, it could shield that which I claimed it was for.

No longer resisting the rain, I strode through the rising storm bereft of pretense.  The wind through the avenue of trees woke the branches to music.  An orchestral prelude to the thunder’s voice.  The gathered clouds drove the earth to darkness in advance of the sun’s own setting and my mind was cast back to my first encounter with the storm.  How easily lost I became.  Overwhelmed by the wet and the noise and the dark.  Frightened and driven to seek shelter.  Now I know the road like I know myself.  Embrace the rain’s caress.  Sing along with the wordless song.  Carry my own light.

But I could not tarry in my revelry overlong.  I have a duty to the words of ink I carried.  They cannot withstand the dance and had need for deliverance unto the shelter of hearth and home ere I indulge in whimsy.

Duty recalled, I slipped from dance to march.  For the first time I truly felt the ring upon my finger.  With every quickened step the road seemed to flow beneath me, first the cobbles, then the mud.  The wind and the rain parted around me.  Soon my dear, soon, but work before play.

I have noted before a seeming quickening of passage along the roads while wearing that pale ring as well as feeling that I was less sodden than I ought to be after being out in the rain.  And, in truth, that’s become my default state with almost never taking the ring off.  But this was something else, a thing I do not believe I could ever force at will.  Is it too a thing of wind and storm?  The wind does ever travel with ease.  Or perhaps it was simply an alteration of my own perception brought on by a rare mood, and I was truly no quicker nor more dry than I ever am.

Whatever the case, the sight of the lights from the windows of the house sparked me back to such sharp lucidity that memory of the journey from Village to home fell away in a haze by contrast.  That last stretch from yard to door was an entirely ordinary sprint out of the rain.  The first order of business, of course, was to make sure the books, this journal included, had survived safely and lay them out to dry from any creeping dampness.  And then to doff my boots lest I track yet more mud around the house.  And then a change into drier clothes.  But throughout it all, the call to the storm was still there in the back of my mind.  The urge to dance.

I had not yet fully re-garbed myself when the first true crack of thunder came.  With that signal I knew better than to finish that course of action, for any new garments would only get wet as well.  And besides, I wished to feel the wet grass beneath my feet.

Looking out the door, I was struck by the thought that the expanse in front of me was far too dark.  The sun had set in truth and no moon nor star could hope to penetrate the theatre roof of the clouds above.  True, light spilled forth from the house, but that was far too small a stage.  This would not do at all.

Obviously the solution was to bring the light outside to the storm and so I gathered up every crystal in the house and carried the armful out the door.  I paused briefly behind the curtain of water at the edge of the porch.  A voice in some far corner of my mind cried out that we’d gone far past mere whimsy by now.  Perhaps it is time to reel this in a bit.

I smile, acknowledge the voice is right, and continue.

Step through the curtain.  Take the stage.  The music is already playing.

Light the stage with movement.  Leave behind pieces of home.  Grow the stage.  

Do not rush the process.  This too is part of the dance.  Release your burdens when it feels right.

Free now.  Weightless.  Let limbs flow unbound.

Twist and turn.  Whirl and writhe.  Leap and lunge.

No wrong way to dance with the wind.  Be one with the music of the rain.  Listen to the thunder speak without words.

Lift face to sky as lightning flashes.  Catch its shine on your teeth.  Burn the afterimage of your eyes and grin onto your audience.

Jump.  Land.  Slip.

Hit the muddy grass.  Laugh.  This too is part of the dance.

The fall is your own lightning.  The splash is your own thunder.  The pain is your own afterimage.

Rise again.  Repeat it all.  Renounce time and care.

Welcome the audience who joins you.  Not the partner you hoped would come, but they do know the steps.  Be the one to lead this time.

Adjust the dance for a partner.  Feel the rhythm flow differently when channeled through two.  Rarely touch, but that’s not the point.

Lightning once more.  Let it illuminate your eyes to match the other’s.  Make them look away first this time.

Thunder follows.  Shout with it.  Raise voice with the intensifying chorus of the wind.

Circle and slide.  Approach and abjure.  Reach and retreat.

Feel the rain on your shoulders become sheets.  Feel the wind decide your direction more than your will.  Feel the water at your ankles force a slowness.

No!  Faster!  Livelier!

Do not slow at the storm’s peak.  Do not heed the protestations of flesh.  Do not let gravity, friction, resistance hold you back.

Revel.

In the life of the storm.  

Rejoice.

For you are alive.  

Renounce.

Your worries, if only for a night.

Will others join the dance tonight?

No, not here, not now, not with us.

Is this what it would have been like to accept that rhythm?

No, that is a different dance, a different song, a different joy.

Can this last forever?

No, nothing does, nothing will, nothing should.

Lose yourself until the storm fades.  Watch your partner blow away with the last flash of lightning.  Begin to find yourself again.

Gather up the lights.  Bring them inside.  Illuminate home.

Heat the bath.  Let the warmth ease your tired limbs.  Bask.

Dry yourself.  Ready for bed.  Recognize the last ember of the night still burning in your mind.

Open your mind of paper and ink.  Draw out that ember.  Burn it into the pages.

Relive your day, as you do every night.  Examine yourself.  Find what you missed in the moment.

What do you add?  What do you leave out?  What do you change?

Smile.  Satisfied.  Sanguine.

Empty now.  Ready for sleep.  No need for dreams.

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