#did you know that our brains are almost exactly the same brains as the early homosapiens??? aka literal cavemen?

[unhinged-nymph]

.

[lainiespicewrites]

Coach Syverson

Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!

Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!

High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was locked in a trance,  typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student.  The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.  

“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly.  “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”  After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his. 

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher! 

I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately. 

I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress. 

I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”

“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.

“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it. 

“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded. 

“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t  know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly. 

“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”

 We were fast friends from that point on!

Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk. 

“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now. 

“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear. 

“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.

“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue.  “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off. 

“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”

“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in  today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second. 

“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled. 

“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no. 

“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”

“I know,” 

“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting

“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath. 

“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him. 

I just leaned back in my chair and groaned, 

“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled 

“You don’t!” I scoffed 

“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked 

“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed. 

“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked. 

“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush. 

Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise.  Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far. 

“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile. 

“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him. 

“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder. 

“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.

“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled. 

“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled. 

“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway. 

“Don’t start!” I warned her. 

“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated. 

“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her. 

“Get back to work!” She laughed. 

“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work. 

The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again. 

With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond. 

(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer. 

“You know me so well!” I smiled at her. 

“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged. 

“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass. 

“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it. 

“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”

“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said. 

“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look. 

“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said. 

“I know but if..”

“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned. 

“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!”  She just laughed.

“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass

“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine. 

“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said. 

“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second. 

“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”

“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing. 

“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table. 

“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier. 

“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows. 

“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional. 

“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face. 

“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked. 

“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled

“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed. 

“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.”  I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me.  I heard skyler squeal.

“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!”  She bounced in her seat. 

“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine. 

“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked. 

“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left. 

“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it

“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked. 

“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed. 

“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to  object but Hayley cut me off. 

“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”

“Because if…”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated. 

“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”

“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed. 

“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends. 

I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled. 

“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”

“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard. 

“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. 

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile. 

“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second. 

“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk. 

“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow 

“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin. 

“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway. 

“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be. 

“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look

“Sorry coach!” they said in unison 

“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head

“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze. 

“It was one time!” He stressed. 

“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded. 

“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking. 

“They adore you,” I said. He smiled 

“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed. 

“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked. 

“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it.  He slid in next to me and started the engine. 

“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly. 

“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin.  I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk. 

“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest. 

“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt. 

“Ow!” He pouted. 

“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile

“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted. 

“We’re not married Sy!” 

“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.” 

“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break. 

“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!” 

“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile. 

“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again. 

“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled. 

“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo. 

“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly. 

“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.

Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy. 

“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled. 

“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress. 

“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.

“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something. 

“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now. 

“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”

“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”

“What else would they be….oh”

“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”

“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”

“ALAYNAAAAA”

“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”

“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”

“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”

I held back a smile and shook my head. 

“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back. 

“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye. 

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked. 

“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned. 

“Well we should change that,” he said.

“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound. 

“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“How?” It was my turn to be confused. 

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly. 

“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!” 

Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed. 

“What's wrong?” He asked. 

“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in  the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted. 

“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively. 

“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said. 

“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled. 

“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip. 

“Looks good on ya,” He smirked. 

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded. 

“Yeah, we better get going.”

[sp-by-april]

TWINN, IM BACKK‼️‼️

Ykw makes me feral? Hmo, Nerdy Kyle with a Popular girl who’s actually a succubus. Just teasing him, appearing in his dreams, and waiting for the right moment to strike, but then Kyle gets inpatient in the library and then she ends up riding him on the floor behind the Librarian’s desk so they don’t get caught. And his nails are just digging into the flesh of her hips, muttering the dirtiest of praises as she just feeds off of him🙏🏾🙏🏾

(srry if requests are closed i didn’t find anything on it😓😓)

This was so fun omg!! Thank you!

POV!Kyle x Succubus!F!Reader

[Send me a prompt that makes you FERAL] [Kyle Broflovski Master List]

I thought that I really lucked out when we got together. Sometimes I would look at you and wonder how someone like you would even notice me. You were so fucking hot and everyone loved you. Your popularity is undeniable. I’m fine looking, I guess? Obviously, there’s stuff I’m insecure about but everyone knew how out of my league you are.

When we first got together, you used to tease the fuck out of me. Everything you said had some suggestive double meaning and you’d find a million ways to “accidentally” touch my dick or push your chest against me. It drove me crazy.

Then I started to have dreams about you. You’d be naked in my bed waiting for me. Sometimes you’d already be touching yourself, but you said the same thing every time.

In a breathy whisper, you always said, “Please, Kyle, I need to feel you. You can do anything you want to me,”

I’ve dreamt about it so much that the soundbite is burned into my brain.

Then we were doing homework in the library. You looked so fucking hot that it was distracting. I would wonder if you knew what you did to me. I was trying to just to ignore how hard you made me and get our work done. You were trying to get out of it and leave early.

You leaned in and put your mouth to my ear, “Please, Kyle? You can do anything you want to me,”

It was like a switch flipped in my brain.

I was already fucking hard but when you said that I throbbed so bad I almost blacked out. I’d been waiting to bring up having sex but I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have you. Immediately.

I put my hand on your thigh and put my ear to yours, “Do you really mean that?”

You smiled and my cock twitched, “Yeah,”

“Fuck me,” I slid my hand up your skirt and my breath hitched as my fingers touched your naked slit, “Right now,”

I couldn't wait. Especially knowing you had no panties on.

You looked a little surprised. I was sure you’d turn me down. You kissed me instead.

I grabbed your hand, and we left our books, our notes and everything else behind.

We looked for a suitable place to fuck and ruled out a lot when we found the perfect spot.

I leaned down to your ear, “There. Behind the desk. She just went downstairs with Jimmy to check the archives. It’ll take at least an hour,”

Plenty of time considering that half the time we were together I wanted to come just from looking at you.

We sat on the ground, making out a little bit then you pushed me down on my back and climbed on top of me. You kissed me and our tongues rolled over each other as you unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. I raised my hips and you rocked forward a little as you pushed my pants down far enough to finally get my dick out. It felt so good when you stroked me, somehow you knew exactly what felt good. I was wet with precum and not brag or anything, but I do know that while I might lack things in other areas, I have a good cock.

Neither of us could take it anymore and you fucking finally sank down onto me. I grabbed onto your hips right away. Squeezing inside of you for the first time was so fucking intense. You felt so warm. Wet. Soft. I’m no virgin or anything, but fuck, I’ve never had anyone feel as good as you do.

Then your hips finally started to move. Watching you ride me was… intoxicating. Seeing you take pleasure from me turned me on more than anything.

Then you kissed me again.

One of my hands stayed glued to to your hip, but I used the other to grab a handful of your hair. I didn’t want you to move away.

I broke our kiss and put my mouth to your ear, “You have no idea how good you feel,”

I could hear your little whines and whimpers and I could barely stand it.

“Fuck, I love the way you look on top of me,” My fingernails started to dig into the fat of your hip, but you didn’t seem to care, “You’re lucky we’re here. Next time I’m really gonna fuck you. I want to hear you get loud,”

You arched your back and fuck, the way you felt inside was so intense. I knew I was close to the point of no return. The pressure was so intense and every muscle in my lower half was so fucking tight.

It didn’t help that the only thing I could think about was how good it would feel to fill you with cum.

Then you said the only thing I wanted to hear, “Kyle – I think I’m gonna come,”

I groaned low in your ear, “Then fucking come for me,”

I kissed you again. Hard. My mouth locked right onto yours and our tongues did what they do best. Your back arched again and I could feel your body tense up over me. Your soft, silky wall fastened up around me and gripped my cock so tight, I’d never felt anything like it.

You set me off.

My hips bucked up into you, sorry, I couldn’t help it. My eyes rolled back and I saw stars. All the pressure that built up finally erupted and my cock pulsed so fucking intensely as I pumped you full of spurt after hot, sticky spurt.

It was the best sex I ever had. I felt drained for days afterward. I was exhausted. I had some brain fog, even. People even noticed how off I was, but I didn’t really care.

Either way, I can’t fucking wait to do it again.

[prolix-yuy]

The Reason for the Season

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: What does Christmas mean after the world falls apart? Ellie sure doesn't know, but Joel knows who might.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: T, some suggestive thoughts, one steamy kiss, teen angst and a whole lot of yearning! Our reader is given the following attributes: a history of Christmas celebrations, a father, and while not stated in the fic, she was old enough to be a teacher when the outbreak happened. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Hello to my sweet Sil @psychedelic-ink! I'm your not-so-secret Santa and I'm here to deliver your holiday fic! And doubly, your birthday present! I’m so glad we got to meet on this wild app, and may your holidays and your birthday be as amazing as you!

You asked for something very Christmas-y with some friends to lovers romance, and boy did this get out of hand! I hope you enjoy Joel finding a little Christmas spirit.

Cross-posted on AO3

There’s little sacred in the world anymore, but making the morning cup of coffee might be as close as Joel gets. The early rising, his bedtime vestments crumpled and stretched across tired muscles. The soothing routine: the mug, the pour over coffee dripper, and the Holy Beans. Every movement is seamless, practiced and almost sightless for those mornings when he can’t peel his eyes open. All in service to the first sip, and the glorious awakening it will bring.

Though with the clattering of Doc Martens and teen angst coming down the stairs, it’s not necessarily needed.

“Mornin’,” Joel rumbles over the mug, eyebrows raised at Ellie’s earlier-than-usual scowl. She opens the fridge, every movement thrown to the extremes of her small frame. Bowl clattering, spoon chiming against stoneware, a worrisome glug of milk, and she returns to flop into her seat across from Joel. He takes another sip, maybe a little louder than usual.

“Sounds the same going in as coming out,” she grumbles, but the half smile she allows is a triumph. 

“Told you not to listen in on a man’s morning movements.” Ellie scrunches her nose up at that, jabbing her spoon into some granola. She’s only moving it around, not partaking, and Joel sets his cup down on the table. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks down his nose at her.

“Something on your mind?” 

Joel was never much for beating around the bush with Sarah’s moods, and he certainly hasn’t changed much with Ellie. She sighs and lets the spoon clatter back into the bowl.

“What the hell is up with Christmas?” 

The question works better than the coffee, brain scrambling into overdrive in much the same way as when he caught Ellie holding a beat-up Bearskin magazine.

“Well…” he starts pensively, but Ellie bowls right through his low hum.

“Like some of the kids celebrate it and others don’t, but neither of them know why. Everyone’s arguing about something called Santa. And they’re bringing trees inside!” She tosses her hands, giving him a weird am I right look that butts against his confused expression.

“FEDRA didn’t teach you kids about Christmas?” 

Ellie shrugs, folding her legs up into the kitchen chair.

“I’ve heard of it, but y’know…not exactly high on their list of priorities.” She starts worrying at a small rip in her jeans until Joel snaps a warning look. He just bartered for those, he won’t have her hurrying them back to scrap.

“I’ve kinda been…pretending I get it.” She trails off, face closing back up and Joel recognizes the outburst for what it is. Embarrassment.

“Well, Christmas is something that, uh…that lots of families celebrated before. It’s, uh…it’s a time at the end of the year to be…you know, to be together and thankful. That sort of thing.”

He can practically hear her eyes roll.

“But what the hell’s a Santa, and trees, and all the baking?” Her finger shoots up, angled directly at Joel. “I know there are presents!”

Joel scoffs, taking another sip and ruminating on how to tackle a tradition he’s barely paid attention to since the outbreak. It all felt so insignificant in the winters following, only a counter for how long he’s suffered so far. Then, when things calmed a fraction, the idea of opening his heart to anything remotely like thankfulness made him want to bloody every knuckle. 

So he tucked his chin and paid no attention to parents trying their best to give their children something bright in the darkest days of winter. Tess never mentioned it, the shine in her eyes at candles lit in windows hard to distinguish from tears. And now, twenty-odd years later, he can barely fathom where to start. 

“There’s a lot of traditions, variations. I don’t remember half of ‘em, but…” A sudden spark of an idea, a way to cheat out of this conversation and not get sulked to death over it, catches the corner of his mouth. “But I think that teacher you like might have some books about it.” 

Ellie’s face lights up, abandoning her bowl to go galloping back up the stairs to her room. “Eat something first, then we’ll go,” trails up behind her. Joel savors the last bit of coffee before rising to rinse the cup, his own smile tugging at his lips. Shouldering his heavy winter jacket, Ellie wolfs down four bites of her granola while still in motion. Wiping her chin with the cuff of her jacket, she shoots a shit-eating grin at Joel as she heads to the door.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that, old man,” she sing-songs as they move into the bracing Wyoming air. “Always looking for an excuse.”

“Whaddya mean?” he asks with as much nonchalance as he can muster, but Ellie’s raised brown and carefree shrug clearly don’t buy it.

“You’re a lousy liar, Joel.”

Not as bad as you think.

The schoolhouse is not much more than a converted home, the ground floor filled with bookshelves and improvised desks and controlled chaos. By the time Joel and Ellie came to Jackson it was well established, but Maria explained how it changed hands and struggled for years before the current teacher. 

“It’s hard to prioritize learning over survival, but it’s the only way we move on as a community,” she said as she led the pair through their Jackson orientation. Ellie had been sighing heavily and dragging her feet - “school is boring, Joel, why can’t I go on patrol?” - before Maria led them into the kitchen. 

“And here’s who we have to thank for dealing with our wild ones,” Maria said, and you looked up from your work. 

The first thing Joel noticed was your smile. It spread so easily across your face, unselfconscious and radiant. You extended a hand to Ellie first, who suppressed enough of her ennui to act pleasant. Joel was next, enveloping her cool fingers with his large palm. He blanked on your name that time, needing to ask Maria privately for it, but the warmth and lightness of your presence could be blamed for that. 

Joel didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that meeting sure as hell paved the way for the private and closely guarded crush he had on you now. 

Ellie took a liking to you almost as quickly, and Joel could see why you were successful when others might have failed. You assessed her mood with ease, redirecting her dread to a section of the schoolhouse that held instruments. She moved immediately to an old guitar, cross-legged on the floor with the too-large instrument in her lap. 

“Can you teach me how to play this?” she asked, and you admitted to only knowing a few chords. 

“I can,” Joel piped up, his own voice surprising him. “I know how to play.” 

Twin bright eyes danced on his face, and he struggled to keep the flush from creeping past his collar.

“If you have some time, I have other students who would love to learn.”

And that’s how on some afternoons Joel found himself showing a handful of teens on the cusp of adulthood how to strum chord progressions. He viewed it as a duty to the community…or at least that’s what he said when Maria and Tommy asked. It was also the perfect excuse to stop by early and chat with you, or scrutinize a leaky window or dripping faucet. Anything to keep him in the same room as you taught simple math or reading comprehension. 

“Any time you want to bring that handiness by my place you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he caught Joel waving you goodbye on the well-trodden path home. 

“You take better care of your place, you won’t need help,” he spat back with no fire. Tommy shrugged, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. 

“Just sayin’, that schoolhouse might withstand another apocalypse with all the work you’ve done on it. I hope its proprietor is…appreciative.” The cheeky wink eggs on a shoulder punch that almost becomes a wrestling match between two men who should know better. Instead Joel calls Tommy a name and Tommy laughs and Joel stares at the ceiling that night wondering if you would be…appreciative of what he’d like to give you. 

Only some of those thoughts are pure in nature.

But the years, even the kind ones, have choked up his tongue and made him a coward. You’re clearly eligible, no other men sniffing around much to Joel’s surprise. He doesn’t think it’s completely one-sided either. You smile at him and put your hand on his shoulder and stand close enough that he can smell your soap and gentle musk. And what’s worse is you’re something rare to him, something miraculously unsullied by twenty years of hell. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to survive without hardening, without breaking and mending over and over until the repair is the whole self. But you are still kind, and understanding, and gentle, and open. There’s only one reason Joel can attribute to this rarity. 

Someone loved you.

Someone loved you so very much that they protected you, let you be open-hearted and trusting even with the world crashing down. And if that someone is no longer here, that’s a hole he can never fill. But every day he spends in Jackson shedding years of plate armor and barbed wire, he contemplates if he might be getting closer to someone who could at least try. 

In the meantime he makes his excuses, much like now, and suppresses the little smiles and giddy feeling in his stomach. 

“Been meaning to check on that plumbing issue she had last week,” he says breezily, snow crunching underfoot and the chill air nipping at his nose. 

“Suuuure, I bet you’d love to see her plumbing,” Ellie snarks, sprinting away as Joel’s face heats up.

“Watch your fucking language, kid,” he growls, the irony not lost on him, as the schoolhouse comes into view.

You can always tell when Ellie arrives. The kids born after the outbreak have a peculiar set of social norms and rules. You’re not sure if she even knows that she should knock before entering, or take her boots off. Then again, it’s an exercise in contemplation when you consider why those societal norms would return when their framework’s been shattered.

Keep your boots on in case you have to run.

Don’t announce your entrance in case something’s lurking.

A whole other etiquette you watch like a zookeeper behind glass.

“Good morning Ellie,” you call from the kitchen. Your heart flutters briefly wondering if…

“Morning, ma’am.”

Joel ambles into the kitchen, massaging heat back into his palms. His cheeks are ruddy with windburn, and you bite the inside of your lip considering how your own hot palms could warm them. 

“Good morning Joel, didn’t expect you in so early.” Dusting your hands off, you round the counter to step into his space. A little game you like to play: how much more obvious must you be before he’ll notice you’re flirting with him? Another brushed shoulder, squeeze of the forearm, eyes connecting a second too long. Thrilling yes - it’s been a long time since you’ve had a crush - but at this rate you’ll both be ninety before either of you admit it. 

“Ellie has something to ask you,” he says, turning to look for his ward. The strange wording patters your heartbeat into an uneasy rhythm. 

“Should I be worried?” you laugh, Joel’s deep brown eyes coming back to your face with a sheepish smile. Oh god, when he smiles your knees can barely handle it.

“I might have passed the buck on a conversation.” 

Before you can ask Ellie slips into the kitchen, weaving around Joel’s wider frame and hopping up on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island. The ones Joel made with those strong hands and thick fingers.

“What’s the deal with Christmas?”

The question catches you off guard no matter the preamble. 

“Um. Huh. Well, I guess…what do you want to know?” you ask, sidling around to lean across the counter from her. Joel is still in your peripheral, practically filling the door frame.

“Everybody’s talking about it,” she bemoans, taking a dried apple slice you’d laid out and turning it on the countertop. “And I keep pretending it’s like, so awesome, but I just don’t…get it.” Her thumbnails pick at the leathery edge of the fruit, and the child you’ve watched pressure girls twice her age into shenanigans softens around the edges. 

“It’s all, ‘my family does this, my family does that,’ and it’s like…I never had anyone to celebrate with before. FEDRA did some stuff with us, but it was…” A shrug, accepted without comment. “And they all seem to love it, and I maybe want to…feel that.” The hedging makes you lean further over, grabbing your own apple slice and turning it between your fingers.

“Well, Joel must have told you there are a lot of ways people celebrate the holidays.” Looking up to Joel he grimaces slightly, raising one shoulder in apology. “And there are lots of different traditions. I’m not surprised you’re confused.”

“Yes! Is Jesus like, Santa’s kid or something?”

The stifled laugh comes straight out of your nose and you have to clear your throat to keep from snorting further. 

“Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here but tell you what, I’ve got a plan.” Ellie looks up at you with a guarded sparkle in her eyes, and it only widens your smile. “Let me do some research first. There are things I don’t know either. So how about you come back next week and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned during the tree decorating.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Tree decorating?”

You must be glowing by now. “Oh, you are in for a treat.”

Leaning against the doorway, Joel takes in the scene. Ellie’s moment of vulnerability, buried back under her feigned indifference. The excitement bubbling under the surface of your smile. 

The way you lean over the counter, the curve of your back only accentuating your shapely ass as you sway slightly. 

Fuck, maybe he should just come out and confess his crush so he can at least feel awkward when he sees you instead of embarrassingly horny.

He’s relieved Ellie suggested coming to you. Your solution to his problem is simple and brilliant, a weight lifting off his chest. Sometimes Ellie is no different than his child, and other times Sarah’s memory makes the smallest endearing unbearable.

Sarah’s mom had taken care of the holiday explanation, navigating the unique customs of their little household. She explained why they had a tree and a menorah, and who’s Santa and the Festival of Lights. When Sarah got older and started asking more pointed questions, they both sat down and explained all their traditions and why they were important. Joel had, admittedly, been more of a supporting role, but for their family it worked. 

Then Ellie had to pitch that question at him, looking up like Sarah had, though so much smaller, and his throat closed up. He knew she needed it. Hell, maybe even he could use some holiday cheer, but Ellie was too no-nonsense and Joel was too out of practice, ripe for bungling it up.

He’ll have to thank you in some way. Though there’s not much to fix nowadays, and if he spends much more time here volunteering he might get roped into actually being a teacher. 

“...and since it’s your first time, you get to add your own ornament to the tree. It can be anything you want, and at the end of the holidays we pack it up with the others for next year.”

That’s it, he thinks. A small way to repay your kindness. He has some scrap wood in the communal woodshop, and most evenings are quiet there. There must be a coping saw in some toolbox, a few rasps and awls. 

“That does sound pretty cool,” Ellie says, and where you might have thought it to be begrudging, Joel can clearly hear her excitement. 

“I think you’ll love it.”

That week was one of the busiest - and sneakiest - that Joel could recall in recent years. It seemed to be the same for you, watching you flit around town with a battered notebook and chewed-up pencil. You were talking to people, smiling, laughing. Whatever the conversation was made everyone else smile too, throwing fond looks at each other. Sometimes playful bickering, or conspiratorial whispers followed, and you gathered up all those words into that well-worn notepad. 

Joel, on the other hand, was making himself more scarce than usual. He kept up appearances, not slacking on patrols and showing up when he’s expected, but every free moment is spent in the woodshop. 

He could have gone the simple route, cutting slices out of some nice quality wood, something with a live edge, but it was too simple. He wanted something that would make you light up, your mouth drop open and your eyes sparkle. 

Further back than he’s willing to count, he remembered a fellow contractor showing him gifts he made for his daughters each year. Beautiful wooden snowflakes, carved in geometric shapes that would reveal tessellations and patterns when glued together. 

The idea seemed simple enough, but it had been a long time since his hands had done anything delicate. The pattern was easy to make, but as he dragged the coping saw along the curves and points his hand would cramp, or the blade would zig when he wanted it to zag. He’d get up and walk around the shop to shake out the frustration, telling himself it’s only four more pieces…for this ornament. 

When he feels like giving up and tossing the whole project in the trash, he thinks of the feeling he’ll get when you hang them on the branches, the way you might touch his arm or look into his eyes when you thank him. 

And then he thinks that forget the mistletoe, he’ll kiss you whenever and wherever you’ll let him.

On the fourth day of hiding in the woodshop Ellie bursts in, halfway through a sentence before she even gets in the door.

“...and I haven’t gotten her anything and I know she’ll get me something so like, what should I…” Her entrance startles him, yanking a rag over a freshly glued ornament. 

Too slow, old man, he thinks as her eyes snap to his attempt at deception.

“What’cha got there, Joel?” she asks, sly smile matching her embellished cadence. 

“Just workin’ on things, what were you talking about?” he deflects, leaning on one elbow to hide the mess behind his shoulder. Ellie nods, understanding stark on her face as she ambles up.

“Oh sure, since when have you ever cared what I’m talking about?”

Joel can’t stop the hurt look dashing across his face, leaning forward. “I care…”

Tricked! Ellie’s hands dart under his arm and yank the cloth away, exposing the half-assembled ornaments and lengths of twine.

“You’re so fucking easy…” she starts to say, but the words stop when she sees the mess underneath. 

“What are those?” she asks, and for a moment Joel wants to snark something back at her - none of your goddamn business or don’t make fun of me - but then he realizes she probably doesn’t have any idea what they are. What would she have seen adorning a tree? Maybe dried fruit, popcorn, little trinkets that people saved hoping one day they could have Christmas again? 

So he clears his throat and makes himself vulnerable. To a teenager. Easily one of the scariest things on this earth, cordyceps included.

“They’re for the tree lighting. Had a buddy who used to make ‘em, and I thought it’d be a nice gift for…to the schoolhouse. For being so helpful and all that.” He can feel his ears reddening but Ellie hasn’t taken her eyes off the snowflakes. She traces one of the finished ones, pointer finger running along the edge he dulled with an ancient rust-filled rasp. “You hang them on the tree.”

Ellie’s quiet for a moment, inspecting and nudging the pieces around, before she finally speaks.

“They’re cool. I didn’t know contractors could make pretty things too.”

Joel snorts, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll let you know I’m a man of multitudes.”

She snorts, the tension breaking, as Joel moves pieces around to show how they fit together to form the abstract snowflake shape. As he’s explaining the process she’s shockingly quiet, but everything is open - eyes, ears, half-parted mouth. If he’d known this was something they shared he would have built things with her ages ago.

“Is one of these mine? The one I can bring?”

Joel mulls for a moment, tapping fingers on the workbench, before he hauls himself up to stand.

“Nah, I’ve got something better for you.”

It takes a few minutes of searching for a suitable wood piece not being used for something important. Then a few more to saw off a round, sweat beading on the edge of his hairline and biceps tensing. Ellie’s eyes widen when he hands her the wood circle, ushering her back to the workbench. 

“I think somethin’ more personal would be good to bring. How about you write your name on it?”

Ellie’s eyes narrow, playfully mistrusting.

“Just my name?”

“You’ll see.”

As she writes and erases about six times, Joel hunts through the workshop for the little woodburning kit he spied weeks ago. It’s janky, but it doesn’t electrocute him when he plugs it in. He waves Ellie over and takes the wood, admiring her no-nonsense script. 

“They ever teach you woodburning at school?” Ellie shakes her head, and Joel’s smile turns lopsided. “Then you’re gonna love this.”

Using the hot metal tip of the fat pencil-like tool, he meticulously traces her lettering, burning it permanently into the wood.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool!” she exclaims, getting close enough that he has to shoo her back so she doesn’t get wisps of woodsmoke right up her nose. He lets her finish the last E, warning her to go slow so the line doesn’t chatter. It’s not perfect, but she’s so excited he can’t find fault.

“Now for a little holiday decoration,” he mumbles, and with stiff joints and too-big hands he burns in a border of holly leaves and berries, even dotting the I in her name with one. 

“All finished,” he says, and before he can even blow on the final product it’s in her hands, tracing the lines and practically thrumming with excitement.

“Can I keep it?” she asks, spinning it in her palm. 

“Just until this weekend, but I can show you how to make…” His sentence trails off as she’s already heading for the door.

“Awesome, thanks Joel!” she calls over her shoulder. He chuckles to himself, ambling back to his own little project. Ellie turns in the doorway, silhouetted by the sun dipping low.

“She’ll love those too,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows and disappearing before he can retort. Sighing, he turns back to the last few pieces he needs to assemble.

He hopes she does.

Joel finishes the ornaments just in time for the tree decorating, timed perfectly with Jackson’s town square lighting. Joel saw Tommy drag the tree into your schoolhouse, conversing with you and Maria as he brushed stray needles from your front porch. The way you smiled when someone did kind things for you warmed Joel even from afar.

“Planning on helping out with the festivities tonight?” Tommy asked as the day wound down, putting boxes on the bar as Joel enjoyed a whiskey. 

“Ellie wants to go to the tree decoratin’, figured I’d make myself useful.”

Tommy’s half smile hovers in his periphery. He tries to ignore it.

“You got something to hang on that nice teacher’s tree?” Joel rolls his eyes and throws back the drink. He’s not going to sit by and tolerate romance advice from his baby brother. “C’mon, you know she’s into you, right? Looks at you like you hung the moon.” Tommy leans on the bar, turning something small between his fingers. “See you looking at her like that too. Practically Hallmark shit by now.” 

“See ya, Tommy,” Joel sighs, getting up from his chair while rolling his eyes.

“Well, at least you can bring this too,” he says, and holds out what he’s been fiddling with. 

Joel looks down, and his heart stops.

“...Where did you…”

Tommy’s face softens, placing the item between them on the bar. 

“Went home before I ended up in Jackson. Not a lot left there, but I found the Christmas box in the basement. It was one of the few things I could carry with me.” Tommy’s face fights an emotion welling up, forcing a smile even as his eyes shine. “Thought she could be part of a new tradition too.”

A small wooden ornament fashioned to look like a Christmas ball, the name “Sarah” painted in the center and surrounded by red and green patterns. She brought it home from school and it had a prominent place on their tree, even as she got older and complained about how ugly it was. 

Joel’s throat is so tight his breath whistles out, chest pounding and eyes stinging, but he picks up the ornament and cradles it in his work-worn hands. Then, a lightness eases his breathing, and a soft smile plays across his face. He clears his throat preemptively, pocketing the treasure.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll put it next to Ellie’s. Thank…thank you,” he stumbles, and the brothers share a moment of memory. 

“And you know, everyone’s gonna be out looking at the lights tonight in case you need some privacy,” Tommy suggests, breaking the tension with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. 

“Bye, Tommy,” Joel calls over his shoulder, Tommy’s chuckle ushering him out.

You must have done this many times before, because when Joel and Ellie walk into the schoolhouse it’s like something off a holiday card. The school supplies are tucked away in favor of  soft seating areas. The tree Tommy brought in is tucked in a corner, lights already wound around the thick boughs. Something apple and spiced wafts through the air, and the chatter of children and adults alike is at the comfortable level that it blankets everything in a festive glow. 

Ellie’s face is glowing too, taking in the drastic shift in decor. She hangs back a little, eyes roaming and waving to friends but shyly tucked behind Joel’s elbow. Her hand is in her pocket, and Joel would put money on her ornament being in the palm of her hand. Joel’s not much better, Sarah’s in his own and a paper packet tucked under his arm. 

Before either of them can feel too out of place, you weave through the growing crowd with a wave. 

“I’m so glad you could come!” you call out, squeezing Joel’s arm and beaming down at Ellie. She shifts on her feet, a small smile appearing at a familiar face.

“This is wild, is like the whole town here?” she asks, and you shrug with your hands on your hips. Some of your hair is out of place, and perspiration clings to your throat. Joel swallows, eyes darting away. 

“Well I did say I had a special surprise for tonight, and you inspired it!” you say, motioning to a series of little dioramas tucked into an empty bookshelf. Ellie weaves around Joel to get a closer look as you point out one of the shelves.

“You asked me about Christmas and I didn’t know what to tell you because I don’t know all that much about how it came to be, or the traditions around it. But then I realized we’re all building a new world together, and the holidays are what we bring with us.” You slide a piece of paper out and hand it to Ellie, and she reads it with a growing smile. Joel leans over to catch a glimpse at your prim handwriting.

Christmas was very traditional in my house. Santa was supposed to come by and bring us presents for being good girls and boys. We would write letters to him about things we wanted, and our parents were supposed to deliver them to him. On Christmas Eve we baked cookies and left them out for Santa because he had a lot of houses to deliver to and needed snacks. I left out carrots for the reindeer too, because they were doing all the work. And then on Christmas morning dad made pancakes and we weren’t allowed to open anything until mom was up. I believed in Santa until I was about 12, when I asked how he could get into houses without chimneys. My parents told me that Santa was an idea, not a real person, and the spirit of the season was to show people you appreciate them and give back to the community around you. I was more worried that I would get less presents if Santa wasn’t giving them to me anymore.

“I gathered up all these stories from everyone in Jackson, of all faiths and beliefs, and you can read through them and see how everyone celebrates.” You lean down now, speaking quieter. “There’s no right way, and no one person celebrates the same as everyone else. The one thing that does stay the same is that it’s a time to show love to the people around you.” 

Joel’s eyes roam the shelves, spotting a Hanukkah-themed scene and something with bright colors he doesn’t recognize. Pages of script torn from your notepad tuck behind Santa figurines and menorahs and little wooden shoes. Ellie picks up another slip of paper. 

“Wait, there are elves?”

You shrug, straightening up and catching Joel’s eye. He gives a lopsided smile as you’re pulled away by someone else entering, a twinkling light in the night surrounding Jackson. 

A time to show love to the people around you? Maybe he can finally pluck up the courage to do that.

“Okay, everyone with an ornament please come up to the tree! Not too many at one time!” you call out, and Joel’s heart jumps into his throat. He pulls the packet from under his arm, hoping that maybe a bunch of kids would rush to the front, but everyone is reluctant to be the first. You stand by the tree, a shimmer of trepidation on your face, and Joel takes the first step.

“Brought these for…for the tree,” he says, handing the rough package to her. He should have put a bow on it, but he already wrestled with the packaging too long, he didn’t think he had the nerve to make it look any more like a gift. All eyes are on you as you unfold the wrapping, eyes darting up to Joel like he’s playing a trick, but when six delicate snowflakes are revealed a murmur of chatter fills the room. Your eyebrows lift, eyes lighting up and he wishes he’d given it to you alone. He wants your appreciation and surprise and happiness all for himself, even as the whispers, “oh wows,” and “good job, Joels,” waft to his ears. 

“Joel, these are amazing,” you breathe, lifting one of the snowflakes out to dangle on your fingers. A smattering of applause he doesn’t deserve deepens his blush, but he takes the praises as graciously as possible. “I’m…thank you so much. I’m going to put them on, please everyone! Bring your ornaments up!” The snap into something much cheerier and brighter flutters Joel’s heart, catching a brief shine in your eye as you busy yourself adding his ornaments to the tree. 

Could he go to you in the hubbub of people now approaching, lay a hand on your shoulder and envelope you in his arms? The ache to do so is close to a real animal in his chest begging to be touched. Instead he hangs back as kids hang dried apples and garland, painted baubles and all varieties of crafts. Wooden birds with real plumage, tiny knitted mittens, worn pictures encased in resin. His eyes draw to Ellie, sidling up next to you to hang her name ornament. You help her pick a spot, and Joel can see how you praise the design, and add some reassuring words. Standing back from the tree Ellie leans against you, and you wrap an arm around her shoulders. 

The world slows around them, frozen in time under Joel’s watchful eye. He blinks, capturing a mental photo of this moment. He’ll look back on it often, the way Ellie both looks so much like a child but also so grown. How you give her kindness and support in as quiet of a way as she’ll accept, rewarded with her ease. And the feeling in his own chest, expanding and swelling like his heart could never fit his body again.

“Look outside!” calls one of the younger children, and the crush of people move from the tree to the windows at the front of the schoolhouse. Craning his neck, Joel catches the lights strung around town starting to click on, brilliant bubbles of amber light dissipating the darkness. A murmur kicks up, and the tree sparkles to life with colorful pops illuminating every memory adorning its branches. There’s cheering and clapping again, this time well deserved, and Ellie’s face brightens as her name sways gently with all of the others. 

“There’s more!” someone cheers, and the front door opens to guide the group out and onto the frigid streets. Ellie’s head whips around, eyes pleading, and Joel can only nod with feigned annoyance as she rushes out.

“Put on your hat…” he calls after her, but if she hears she gives no indication. In a moment the schoolhouse is empty of all but you and him. Joel glimpses more lights leading the people of Jackson through the town center, noise dulling to a comforting hum. 

You’re still in front of the tree, admiring the final product. Joel takes a deep breath and slowly approaches, standing beside you in comfortable silence. You take in a big breath of your own and blow it out, satisfaction painting your features.

“Every year it seems like it’ll never get done, and yet it always comes together,” you say, bumping shoulders with Joel. He snorts and smiles, taking in all of the chaotic beauty of the decorations.

“Meant a lot to Ellie that you did all this,” he says, tossing his head back at the written history you compiled. You cock your head at him thoughtfully. 

“It got me thinking, you know. What’s important to everyone, now that we’re here after everything?” Your eyes search the tree, Joel’s following. “For me, it was my dad. We called him Father Christmas. Loved the holidays, was excited for them every year.” Your fingers find a red plastic boot nestled in the boughs. “When we got to Jackson he was so excited to be around people again, to feel that community. He brought Christmas back for lots of people.” A watery sigh signals Joel to lean closer, fitting his arm snugly around your waist. It’s never felt more right to hold someone. “The years since he’s passed have been hard to keep this all up, but it’s also the closest I feel to him.” 

Joel reaches into his pocket, Sarah’s ornament in the palm of his hand. Ellie’s has a perfect spot next to it, and he tucks them together amongst the lights. Fresh spruce tickles his nostrils as he arranges them just so.

“My daughter,” Joel says, and it may be the first time he’s offered this part of himself up willingly. “Lost her on the day it all went to hell. She loved the holidays too, always wanted to see real snow. You know, like something out of a Norman Rockwell.” The rest of the words he wants to say stick in his throat, but it’s enough. You turn to him, sliding a hand up his arm to squeeze it gently. A knowing smile curves your lips, tempting as hot cocoa after a cold day.

“Thank you, Joel. For the ornaments, for being here. For everything.”

His body steps into yours, pulling you close. Your eyes widen briefly, then your expression becomes hopeful.

“Thought maybe I was being obvious, around all the time looking for a reason to be where you are,” Joel muses, finally bold enough to cup your cheek. Leaning into it, you fit your body into his.

“Maybe I thought it was too good to be true,” you say, a tiny brush of his thumb over your lips startling a breath out. 

“Pretty sure it’s me who’s been feelin’ that way, darlin’,” Joel teases, but the yearning in your eyes tells him he’s got to say it now. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for…so goddamn long.”

Then your hand winds into his nape, and your lips meet.

You’re as soft as he hoped, yielding to his firmer press but bold when he parts his lips and your tongue begs entrance. A choked moan dies in his throat as cinnamon and apple dances on his palate, cradling your head so he can deepen the kiss. The grip on his hair tightens, your other hand fisted in his flannel. He wraps around you, protector, devotee, your body and soul safe with him.

Your lips part regretfully, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath. Beating him to composure, you tilt your chin to press a kiss to a spot on his jaw where his beard is a little thin.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you here for so long,” you repeat, breathy giggles rippling through you both. Joel dips in to claim your lips again, softer, slower. Your arms wind around his neck, and if he wasn’t keenly aware that at any moment someone could wander back in he would have laid you out to explore with his lips and teeth and tongue. His calmer head prevailed.

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t ask you for a single other thing, Christmas or not, if you’d say you’ll be mine,” he asks, heart on the line as he hopes you feel the magic of this moment just as much. Your eyes crinkle, fingers stroking through his hair.

“Joel Miller, nothing would make me happier,” you answer, earning another sweetly spicy kiss. When you part again, you say, “Well, except…”

Joel’s heart hammers, eyebrows knitting up in concern.

“...I could use help putting the star on my tree tonight. The one in my bedroom?” 

A mischievous smile darts onto Joel’s face, playfully squeezing your ass.

“And how tall is this tree? Should I bring my ladder?”

You tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Maybe two, three feet?”

Joel nods with understanding.

“Of course, we should take care of that immediately.”

“Immediately.”

Hand in hand, you exit the schoolhouse, leaving it unlocked in case anyone wants to come bask in the holiday cheer later in the evening. Looking down the main street, Jackson is lit like a beacon of hope. Children toss snowballs at each other while parents watch on and laugh. Ellie is talking to a girl her age, shyly extending a paper-wrapped gift. A beautiful, kind woman is holding his hand and if his back were better he’d throw her over his shoulder in his haste to get her alone. 

And in the darkest of times, when the days are short and cold and hope runs thin, there is still so much love to share.

END

A/N: the ornaments Joel makes were inspired by a gift I got a few years back. These handmade ornaments are some of my favorites every year!

[yangsharperavery]

there's this thing that carmy and sydney do that i don't see talked about alot in that, they heavily mirror and mimic each other verbally.

this is a common behavioral thing that people often do to become emotionally/mentally closer or endear someone to them.

sometimes it's completely unconscious, sometimes people do it on purpose. it's also an effective communication tactic.

we've spoken a lot about how they seem very much on the same wavelength when it comes to fine dining and their respective training and their vision for a more cohesive, cooperative space.

since last season, they share the same brain, finish each others sentences, have similar ideas, etc.

but there's this element of mirroring and sameness that occurs when they're speaking to one another that's not only about strengthening their communication, avoiding explosive misunderstandings and reassuring the other that they're with them and hear them...

but moreso that they're the same as them.

very much "i see you in me, i see me in you" type energy.

on some real "i am you, you are me, we are one" type time.

like, let's merge more than just our brains type shit. maybe our energies and souls? merging the bodies can come last.

in every single episode that these two share screentime/space in s2, they mirror/affirm each other in speech (they often mirror in body language, which they also did last season)

in the first ep, at the lockers, carmy says "you gonna leave early?" to which sydney says, a few lines into their exchange, "we can go home early."

he also repeats exactly what she says back to her before she falls through the wall, after she's fallen through it.

in the second ep, while they're cooking, it's the "you can tell me to fuck off," "i doubt i'd tell you to fuck off", later he has a question and repeats back to her "and you can tell me to fuck off."

in the third ep, during the exchange about the wall it's "you let me know," "i'll let you know."

in the beginning of the fifth ep, sydney says "standard operating procedure" to cicero, right in front of carmy, a scene later he says the exact same thing back to her in front of natalie.

and of course the "goodnight" "i'm saying goodnight" exchange at the end of that ep.

their verbiage in certain heightened or vulnerable situations being damn near identical and then parroted back to the other seems very intentional.

almost as if you could swap his dialogue for hers in the script during these specific scenes/parts.

during their argument in ep eight, regarding the chaos menu (& claire!), they start riling each other up and sydney goes for the "sorry" sign, she then says to him, after apologizing, "i'm tired. i've been tired but i'm just really tired."

and then carmy repeats her "sorry, sorry, no, i'm sorry, i'm tired."

they're literally verbally affirming to one another, that despite the physical, energetic disconnect, they're feeling and going through the same thing.

the same stress, anxiety, uncertainty, doubt and discord just not directly with one other because there's this huge gap between them and how this vision is going to be realized (mostly because of carmy's avoidance after spending time with claire while still attempting to give sydney what she wants.)

see also: "i'm trying..." to "i know you're trying, i see you're trying."

she echos and affirms him even though she's more than justified and correct in being upset with him.

in ep nine it's the much discussed and infamous, "you could do this without me" "i couldn't do this without you" back and forth.

on the immediate heels of sydney proclaiming she doesn't like/doesn't do the corny back and forth thing.

but my good sis you've literally been doing that with carmy in at least every other conversation for the ENTIRE season?!?!

she just doesn't realize it because it's usually being done when they're opening up/being vulnerable, fighting or affirming/reassuring one another.

it's even more amazing to think that this is occurring while they're apart for practically the entire middle part of the season.

but when they do have moments where they come together and discuss anything, there's this overt mirroring/echoing/parroting in their communication.

the implications are even more heightened when you think about how they don't/can't reassure each other physically.

carmy's touches are ghostlike and fleeting, i'm almost surprised he allowed himself the two that we saw this season.

we talk a lot about how the narrative obviously parallels them visually.

but the verbal echoing is not only indicative of their connection and their devotion to one another, it's also another way for them to directly parallel one another in the moment, while they're both on screen, to each other's faces!

again, very much a "i see you, i am you, i have you" energy is naturally imbued in these moments because of this type of communication.

because using this method of verbal repetition is psychologically anchoring and can be inferred almost like an attempt to merge yourself as close as possible to the person you're mirroring.

or at the very least (subconsciously) acknowledging and understanding that you're already damn near identical.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

John Stone - NSFW Alphabet

warning : It's getting steamy under the cut, have fun reading ;)

Info : So another thing for our beloverd John and what could be better than a nsfw alphabet ;) Hope you all enjoy it I did writing it.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A = Aftercare (how they are after sex).

°John is as gentle as he can be after sex with his sweetheart. He will praise you, kiss you and pull you close to him, fall asleep with you and be there for you. You can still shower the next morning as long as you stay with him in his arms. The main thing is that you are his.

°,,You never disappoint me...you were so good to me"

══════════════════════

B = Bodypart (his favorite part of you and them)

°In addition to his eyes with which he can watch his wife, his angel and his darling as she becomes prettier and prettier and at the same time can see his victims, he loves his hands. Made for killing and yet it is not the blood or the cold hat of his victims that he loves to touch the most. It was you. When he can lay his hand on you, you can feel that you were there for him, that you didn't listen to him. Running over your soft skin, kneading your breasts, clasping your neck and pulling you by the hair. He just wants to feel you all the time.

°You are perfect, you are his perfect angel and yet if he had to choose, it would be your hair and your neck. Your neck around which his hands fit perfectly where he squeezed and could hear the suppressed, whispered moans. To see how his kisses and markings changed color, the collar nestled against your skin. The hair he ran his hand through, the softness and sweet shampoo only to pull at it in the night. Hearing the pleasurable noises he wants more and more of every night.

══════════════════════

C= Cum (anything to do with cum)

°There is really only one option for him: either he comes inside you or not at all. He knows you can't get pregnant, he knows you can't have a baby and yet he loves to cum inside you. To see his sperm running out of you when he hadn't made love to her in bed but on the kitchen counter or the table. To see that he had marked her there himself.

°,,You are everything my darling"

°And if he doesn't come inside you then on your breasts when you kneel so well in front of him, the wispy hair by his grip, your naked upper body just invited to it. He loved to see how his sperm spread on it and his fingers only spread it even more on the soft skin of his favorite

°,,Perfect...stay still and I'll get the camera good girl"

══════════════════════

D = Dirty Secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

°He would like to sleep with you in front of one of the victims. He knew full well that murder was still new to his favorite, that she hadn't been killing sluts like he had for years. But the idea of seeing that helpless look while he fucked his darling's brains out and the moans echoed in the room was something that wouldn't let him go.

°Give him a show. Kill for him, show him how you would fuck a bitch while he sat on a chair and watched. Knowing that he would eventually get hard. That his darling, covered in blood, would come up to him and take care of him so he could just relax. That would be something nice.

══════════════════════

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

°He has had more than enough experience in his life from his younger years to now in his early fifties. He had met just about every kind of woman and knew how each one reacted to him, what he needed to do and what it meant to be experienced.

°,,Old? Oh sweetie believe me I have more experience than you"

°He knows exactly what he's doing, but that doesn't mean he's doing it to his angel. More than once he almost forgets that it's not just about his lust. That he also has to take care of her. Which of course he does and when he does he knows exactly what he has to do to give his angel what she deserves.

°,,Shhh let me just spoil you yes?"

══════════════════════

F = Favorite position (without saying you know what it's about)

°Missionary = The classic position and yet it is one of his favorite poses. Not just in the morning when he sleeps with you, when he pulls his darling out of half-sleep and can see how the tiredness is replaced with lust. Even so he can see what his sweetie does every move she makes, every look she gives and every praise she hears. To feel how she wraps her legs around his hips and refuses to let go of him and he only takes her faster and harder. There is simply nothing better to see your darling in her full beauty.

°Doggy = Seeing you pressed against the cold steel wall, barely able to hold yourself up. Hearing the moans and muffled cries into the pillow as his hands rest painfully sweet on your hips and he practically falls you up by himself. Bent over the kitchen table despite the food or the cake still there. He loves to watch her body slowly give in to the tempo only to wrap his hand around her neck from behind and pull her close. Telling her how sluttish she was.

══════════════════════

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? are they funny? etc.)

°He is already very serious at the moment, for him sex with you is the most romantic and the most important thing (besides killing) he can do with you. He will take his time, will make the foreplay pleasant and yet demanding only to finally lose himself in you afterwards.

°No, he may ask a few questions in a funnier direction during the teasing, but otherwise he is serious. It's an intimate affair and not a comedy show.

══════════════════════

H = Hair (how shaved is it? Does the trunk match the apple? ect.)

°He keeps his happy trail and will shave down there a few times a week but not all the time. If it bothers his favorite he will shave but otherwise he doesn't really care.

°It's a little darker down there than up there. The hair on his head is brown but the trunk looks almost black when it's not in the light.

══════════════════════

I = Intimacy (how are they at the moment the romantic aspect)

°Very, very, very romantic. He will take a lot of time when it is the first time for his darling. He will keep reassuring her that everything will be fine, that he is there for her and that he will take care of her. Maybe he'll give her a little present first to lift her spirits, but she only needs him for everything.

══════════════════════

J = Jack off ( mastubation headcanon)

°Since you've been together, he doesn't need it anymore. He has you and you are his. At the most, when his angel is sleeping longer and he has a little time in the shower, his thoughts are with his darling and he wishes more than once that she would just come to him in the shower.

°But before he had you, before she became his, he was obsessed with you. He took photos, researched on the internet and you started to take over his thoughts. It didn't matter if he only had a photo or his imagination, as soon as he saw you, you were the object of his lust and desire. When he was aroused and his hand closed around his cock, he always imagined that it was his angel who had finally come to him. One day his angel would come to him and take him willingly. He knew it.

══════════════════════

Kink = (one or more of the kinks)

°Degradation = Despite the fact that he loves you and you are good for him, he loves to degrade you. Not only his victims to torture them further but also his wife. Watching her get pink-cheeked with shame, addicted to arousal and doing everything he said. It was something that not only turned him on, it turned him on and he wanted more.

°,,Just look at you so needy for me that you've already forgotten what you're supposed to be doing...am I right? Are you just a stupid bitch?

°Breath Play = He loves to put his hand around her soft neck to see what happens when he squeezes harder and finally has her. Watching her eyes roll, her body just giving in to him only to give her back her oxygen at the last moment and see that she wanted more. Feeling her trembling as she snuggled up to him and he traced the imprint of his hand on her neck.

°,,You were so good...your body is perfect for me good girl"

══════════════════════

L = Location (favorite place to do it)

°The house there aren't really many other options because you can't do it in the city/public without the risk of being arrested. Which is why the house is the only option.

°But in the house if it's not the traditional bedroom in the big double bed where he can see everything how his loved one reacts. How she falls apart around him and demands more.

°It's especially the kitchen where he likes to do it, whether it's on the kitchen counter or the dining table. The thought of disturbing his wife while she is making love is hard for him to hear, only to straighten her clothes afterwards and continue on shaky legs. It was perfect for them both.

══════════════════════

M = Motivation (what turns them on)

°Torture = He saw so much blood, suffering and death that it became more than just normal for him. It became something more intimate, something deeper and he would give anything to see it. Which is why after another murder he is usually the most aroused and calls for you. He needs to release the excess energy and simply needs you. He has to catch himself again and knows that you can take him so well, that you love him, that you love it when he treats you more roughly.

°Wife things = Be it cake baking, washing and drying or just an apron or how you cook. It would be small things but it's these traditional things that made him think of invisible things that he really wanted to experience for himself.

══════════════════════

N = No (something they wouldn't do, dismissing)

°Latex = One material he refrains from using is latex. He's totally on board with leather, he loves to touch the cold leather around your neck in the form of a collar. But latex is the exact opposite. It is too hard to hold, it is not safe for him to put it on his angel's body. The latex is cold and cold he associated with the killing bitches but his favorite was warm and not cold.

°Orgies = Something about the idea of not being in complete control bothers him. He would have to share you, not have you for himself. He would never share his love, she was his and no man would ever be allowed to touch her or even look at her. There was only the two of them and there would only be the two of them.

══════════════════════

O = Oral (preference whether giving or receiving, skill, ect.)

°As a reward if you were good for him, he liked to spoil you with it. Loves to take his time and caress you but he says when it stops and in the end he is still in control. He pays close attention to how his darling reacts to what she does and when she starts to scream his name because that's when all the fun really starts for him.

°,,You've been such a good girl and now you're getting your reward"

°When you kneel down in front of him after a long day he is just happy to be with his wife. If you are obedient he doesn't have to ask for it. When he lets you set the pace at first and can bury his hands in your hair only to end up using his favorite. To feel with a grin when her fingers tighten on his legs, to see the suppressed moan as she tries to rub against his leg. It was a sight that almost drove him out of his mind.

°,,You look needy? Is Daddy supposed to help you with that?"

══════════════════════

P = Pace (are they fast and hard? slow and sensitive? etc.)

°At first he is the gentle and slow type, who would still be unhappy if he couldn't control himself. But when you are really in a relationship, he would show that he is rather hard and fast, especially when he needs you and is full of adrenaline.

°Despite everything, he can also be soft and slow when his darling has had a long, hard day, so he likes to spoil her.

══════════════════════

Q = Quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often etc)

°They are not always his favorite thing maybe after waking up or if you have to kill time then yes even if it usually ends with you on your knees than actual sex.

°Not very often as I said if he has a little time before he goes into town, or the cake in the open still needs then yes but otherwise he always takes his time.

══════════════════════

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

°Experiment is his middle name he's killed so much and tried out what he can do with his victims that he's done more than enough experiments to know what he can and can't use.

°,,You'd be surprised what a simple rope can do, sweetie"

°No, hardly ever. He has everything planned out and trusts his instincts. He would never risk him and his darling being exposed in public. Maybe in the car in the dark, but even then he would be overly cautious, so no, not really. Maybe in the bar where he picks up his victims but even there he is focused on his surroundings.

══════════════════════

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long can they last?)

°John is a former soldier and as he said himself he can go all night. But because of his age and the fact that he is an ex-soldier, 3 rounds is more than good. If he is away for a longer period of time to get things or comes back up in the cellar after hours, he can go longer than that, but this then drags on for hours to a whole session.

°,,I know you can do it again sweetheart...I need you more now"

°As I said, he can go on for several hours and will do so if he wants to savor the sex between you. However, he might have a little weakness for teasing and being polite, which will push him over the edge faster than he would like.

══════════════════════

T = Toys (do they have toys? do they use them? on their partner or themselves?)

°Camera = Not necessarily a toy but the first thing he uses on his victims. He loves to record the helpless look of realization. So why not also record the lustful looks as he fucks his darling every moment. To give her no room to hide. Just to show her the photos afterwards, knowing that with every photo he got harder, she got more embarrassed and she had to beg him to take her.

°,,A pretty collection wife and at the same time a slut in the heat and all because of me"

°Chainsaw = Unusual and yet not only can you use the chainsaw to cut up victims who become a nuisance, you can also use it to kill them. To see you standing still, frightened and yet curious. He brings the slatted chainsaw up over your bare legs, the warm blood from it running down your body. A toy for foreplay and yet it was the murderous side that made him hard every time he looked at his darling. When she kissed the bloody chain just to snuggle up to him while the flat tip pressed against her center

°,,Don't be scared darling, stay still and nothing will happen...be just like me and everything will be fine"

══════════════════════

U = Unfair (how they love to tease)

°When you're in town, in public, he'll be careful not to tease you. You set father and daughter/adoptive daughter are not lovers. At most, he will give you a smile, a touch on the arm or a kiss, but he knows that the police are watching him. If he does feel safe, he will whisper something quietly to his darling before they get into the car and drive back to the house.

°,,When we get back, darling, believe me, you'll be punished for that wink."

°But when you're back in the safety of the house, he would love to tease you. Knew how easy it was to get full of shame and lust. One look, one touch too long on your thigh and his hand moves up to your center. A gesture, a few words. He loves to watch you practically melt away, only to let go and see what his angel is doing.

°,,What is it? Don't say I didn't warn you...go on, use your words or is your mind already on other things?"

══════════════════════

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make, etc.)

°When he gets closer to his climax, there are a few moaning noises between his mostly grunting and gasping noises, interspersed with praise and talk.

°When it comes to volume he is rather quiet he wants to hear his favorite but in the end when it gets closer to climax who would hear them both they were away from the city no one would ever hear them.

══════════════════════

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

°If he saw you in an apron in the summer as an exception with just the piece on your body, he would enjoy the sight to the fullest. Seeing how your breasts and hips moved slightly with every step his darling still had that innocent energy despite everything. But as soon as he opened the bow on her back and his big rough hands came to her body, the innocence was gone.

°,,My baking fairy, you must enchant me with your look...so naughty"

°He would like to set up cameras in the house sometime without telling his darling. To watch them when he's away for a while. To see what his good girl does or if she breaks the rules just to punish her afterwards.

°,,Really nothing? Are you sure? Because that looks more like a whore than my wife...or am I wrong bitch?"

══════════════════════

X = X-ray (let's look under the clothes)

°His happy trail is a little darker than his brown hair and he's 16cm/6.299 inches long and wide enough to more than fill you out and fit your hand around it. In certain positions, he puts his hand on your abdomen and just feels you getting hot with every thrust.

°He knows that he is perfect for you, there is no other way, you love him and even if he prefers good old normal sex, he knows that his darling should be pampered too.

°,,What kind of husband would I be to say no"

══════════════════════

Y = Yearning (how high is the sex drive?)

°High very high not only when he has tortured and killed his victim then he is full of adrenaline anyway and is no longer gentle rough and needy he will crave you. It doesn't matter if he still has blood on him or not, whether it was directly in the torture room on the floor or in the bedroom when he feels like it, he will take you when he needs you.

°,,Need you baby...now"

°Morning he's just a man with needs that want to be satisfied. A man who wakes up wishing for his submissive sweet wife who doesn't fully realize what's happening while still half asleep only to plead with him while he showers her with praise.

°,,Ah take me so-fuck good sweetie"

══════════════════════

Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

°John is an ex-soldier, he had missions where he couldn't sleep for days. He is a hunter, a performer of the set and does something good for the world. He would rather die than fall asleep in front of them. He always wants to see you fall asleep before him to make sure that he can protect you, that no one can get in the way of his idyllic life.

°Even if it's a long night between you, he'll do everything he can not to fall asleep first. He will put an arm around you, pull you close until he is sure that your calm, regular breathing is the sign of sleep. Before he gives you a goodnight kiss on the head before he finally allows himself to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@librababe99 , @klarise , @c0stass , @alizzy18 , @slut4hoffman , @magmabayvi , @thewolveswithin , @faultlessheart , @megustadilf , @xmissghoulx , @roman-hoffman , @costashoffman , @mysunfishpeedinmyroom , @agunislover , @oceansrose2002

[waitmyturtles]

Well — I can’t believe it’s over. Moonlight Chicken was… I’ll get the words for it. Satisfying is the first one that comes to mind. And MC was my first beginning-to-end fandom on Tumblr. The big brains, the META, the psychological and cultural analyses! I’m a peon in a sea of passionate geniuses here. I love this community so much.

Where do we start. Moonlight Chicken, episode 8/finale thoughts and impressions. As usual, quick hits first, then the big thinks.

1) So much wonderful fan service. And I know that fan service can often take a show out, and when fan service is included in a script, I’m sure that at times, it makes directors and screenwriters grit their teeth. But I’m REALLY THANKFUL for all the fan service with all the couples, and yes, I’m including First and Khao here, because — come awn, the way these two almost OVERACTED their relaxedness at the bank and the food truck at the end, I was giggle-crying. Had we seen Alan smile any bigger at any other point in the show than at the food truck? THE SWAPPING OF THE CHAT IDs? THOSE CUTE LOOKS? KHAO’S little head shakes? THE TURN AFTER RECEIVING THAT MYSTERY CHAT? THANK YOU, AOFFFFF, thank yoooouuuu! Thank you for knowing exactly what you were doing for us and our ships, ha.

A dear anon recommended My School President to me, and I’m gonna definitely watch it, because I’m officially a GemFourth stan. More on this later, but I absolutely adored that their storyline took up a huge chunk of screentime. Besides the storyline interweaving beautifully with the major theme arcs of this last episode, their chemistry just could not be better. It’s been well documented how Fourth has been EATING his role, but Gemini, too! The TEXTS! The knowing looks! How much Gemini is able to communicate just by looking at Fourth. SO SATISFYING AND FULFILLING, GAAAHH.

And, and, and — forgive me for being sentimental. Because I’m still so new to this wonderful world of Aof’s work and Thai BLs, I didn’t have to wait as long as so many of y’all in the family for Earth and Mix to reunite in such a good script. But I was still feeling the nostalgia early in the series at seeing these two together, and I felt it so strongly in this episode. Jim FINALLY breaking out of his shell. Calling Wen his boyfriend. Leaning in to make a move (on the wonderful couch). Holding Wen’s hand and squeezing it in response to Wen. Gah. Too great.

Just, like….. how are these GMMTV couples SO GOOD? HOW ARE THEY SO GOOD TOGETHER? (Yes, not quite accurate to call AlanGaipa a couple, but shhhhh.) Anyway, sighs of happiness.

2) LENG. Gossipy. Luv u. Sneaky b.

3) I know we kinda despise her (and by “we,” I mean all of my inner children who want to grab these guilt-stricken, “what do I do nowwwww” whine-whine parents by the throat), but umm, Jam’s a 10! She cute! I liked her mall outfit, I cannot lie.

Jam came full circle. She admits to her shit. She figures out how to come thru in the most sensible way she can. I’ll offer more thoughts in a bit, but I’m actually a little glad that we didn’t get the rage scene that I so WANTED to see in episode 7. She’s ready to pony up for school. That’s the best way she can help, and I’m glad she was written as figuring that out.

What did I see happen to Jam? She leaned into the kind of parenting and family building that she could manage at this point in her life. What she was CAPABLE of, she did. She created a family table for ALL her family. To show that kind of blended family, eating all together, at peace, with a small child in their presence…. to have created a warm environment where Jim could finally, comfortably come out without judgement. She replicated the same table that Jim himself had created at his diner. She’s paying her dues back to BOTH her brother AND her son, both of whom she rejected and abandoned.

I have to hand it to Aof. My inner child’s heart is wrecked at this, but I have to hand it to him. He treats bad parents with compassion. ATOTS, Bad Buddy, and now here. He doesn’t blame bad parents for who they ARE — he instead skewers WHERE THEY CAME FROM, the culture from which these styles of parenting are borne. God, Aof. That’s not necessarily emotionally purging for Asian kids traumatized by the unexplored impact of filial piety. But it’s much more of a realistic artistic meditation, a FAIR one. I see what he did with Jam, and I ultimately have to appreciate it, even if I was dying for a rage episode. I appreciate that Aof, as an artist, will not succumb to base emotion simply because it’s the surface feeling. He will always dig and layer what ends up truly working as an emotionally balanced meditation.

4) Big themes. Once again — a return to the balance between old and new cultures and perspectives, and how us oldies get pulled along into the new age. But also, in this episode, we were reminded of what youngsters bring with THEM, from THEIR pasts, into their future.

This episode focused on Jim’s movement and Li Ming’s movement. Oh, my heart. I’ll start with Li Ming.

Li Ming is really a hero of mine — I think what he demonstrates for me is that youthful FEARLESSNESS towards change that we admire youngsters for so much — while us oldie parents are also worried about them, we fear for them, because we know that there are potholes and pitfalls when change can happen quickly and blindingly.

I think that's what Jim was referring to when he says to Jam that Li Ming helped him (Jim) find his maturity. That was at the core of the night talk that took place in episode 7. I think Jim saw, in Li Ming, what Jim *needed* to see in Li Ming to trust Li Ming with Li Ming's own growth. Jim needed to see that Li Ming could consider his options, and be more emotionally sophisticated and aware than Jim ever has been.

And, I think -- that helped Jim TRUST Li Ming. That wonderful short conversation between Li Ming and Jim, where Jim confirms with Li Ming that Jim is just *worried* about Li Ming, like a parent.

When Li Ming says, "love isn't that big of a deal." When Li Ming talks about other ways that life needs to be sustainable.

Li Ming KNOWS Jim, and knows HOW TO TALK TO JIM.

How brilliant is that, to see that in someone so young, just dominate you, an older person, by way of emotional knowledge and sophistication? Jim had no choice, in my read, but to trust Li Ming -- and, maybe, take some inspiration and take that sophistication, and internalize it, so that he (Jim) could begin to relax and find happiness as well.

5) The other story about Li Ming's movement is between him and Heart, and as I said before, I'm just totally sold on GeminiFourth as a pairing, because their dynamic was really perfect for the growth that needed to be demonstrated between the two of them.

HEART! We saw Heart shoot his shot, dang it! HEART! With his wanting a boyfriend, with his parents learning sign language, with PEOPLE AROUND HIM LEARNING HOW TO TALK TO HIM. On multiple levels, even if we didn't see all of it actively (like with Heart's parents), Heart made demands and shot his shots, just like Li Ming did with his own family.

GOOD GOD -- could Aof have used this motif more wonderfully, so EFFICIENTLY? Young people get shit done! No holds barred, they can bolt through their own obstacles, their own barriers, to get shit done. Young people aren't held down by the past, like some old uncles we know.

And yet. Young people CAN ALSO RESPECT THE PAST, AND BRING LONG-STANDING CULTURE WITH THEM -- as Heart and Li Ming showed at the temple, as Li Ming danced as a lion, bringing in the Lunar New Year (FULL CIRCLE from when the series premiered, y'all!) AND THAT'S GROWTH. That's how the world spins, that's how Pattaya spins -- a place caught in the middle between the old and the new, the historic and the modern. Just like Li Ming and Heart, they are always growing, always maturing, and fast, like young people do, before they get stagnant-ish and older-ish, like Uncle Jim.

6) And then we see the growth paradigm with Jim, as reflected in the mirror of Li Ming. We see Jim -- finally -- loosening up. We see Jim come out as paired up with Wen to his sister. We see them on a date, a romantic date on the beach. (Sure, Jim is still an old dad, complaining about the food or whatever, geez, Jim.)

We see him close the old place, and open a new place. We see that new place as a new and modern way to hold over the old culture -- khao man gai, outside, under the stars, the way it's supposed to be eaten in an equatorial country.

I'm borrowing the following screencap from @hummingbirdsinjune:

We see Jim, finally, reflecting. We see him reflecting on how people were able to move forward, people like Jam and Gaipa, while he reflected on how he was held back. We see him figuring out how he won't hold himself back, and won't LET HIMSELF BE HELD BACK, anymore. He cancels the lease to let go. He, finally, wants to be in control. He sells the car, one of his last links to Beam. And commits to moving forward in so many ways.

And he stays in Pattaya. So we know -- he's still going to be connected to the old ways, the historic culture, of Pattaya.

And when Wen choose to decline the job. When Wen -- AND JIM -- decide to build a home together. Home isn't anything modern. Home is HOME. Home is history. Home is building history together. Jim is both leaving things behind.... and leaving nothing behind. Because he's building all he needs in his life once more.

The building of home with Wen. That's what ultimately took me out about this episode.

7) I believe I finally got the khao man gai analogy to the show that I long wanted before the show premiered. As with Jam's table at her husband's house, when the guys were sitting and eating at the diner before the diner closed. Jim's family, Jim's community. How food brings everyone together. That was a presage, I think, for the home he was going to eventually build with Wen. Y'all know I wanted this, and I'm so glad I got it. Yay, chicken rice.

I'm totally going to have more thoughts over the next few days, but this is what I got for now. I'm so in debt to Aof as an Asian fan of his dramas for giving us such unbelievable commentary on culture and family. We are INCREDIBLY LUCKY to have this artist making these shows. They are so important to me as an Asian, as a lover of my culture and Asian cultures, as an Asian child and mother also struggling with the balance of old and new values and cultural rituals. Aof's shows teach me so much, about extra- and introspection, and Moonlight Chicken was absolutely no exception.

[sixminutestoriesblog]

poppies

In Flanders Fields the poppies grow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

I have always found the excerpt above, and the rest of the poem that comes after it to be pleasant to the ear, sweetly melancholic and, to be honest, more than a little creepy once you hit the threat at the end. The mental image of mostly desiccated World War I soldiers clawing their way out of the upturned soil, spilling flecks of half rotted uniform and red flowers from their bodies as they drag themselves forward after me just because I don't feel like holding a grudge against another country for a war nobody really should have been in in the first place isn't exactly what I suspect Lt. Col. McCrae was going for but its sure the picture he painted in my mind. Not cool, John. Not cool.

In other news, the poem did help make the poppy a popular symbol for war veterans that died in battle, especially overseas. These days red paper poppies are worn in jacket lapels and sold on street corners in multiple Western countries during Remembrance Day, Anzac Day and Memorial Day. Today that's pretty much the only association most of us have with the flowers but for the soldiers that lived during that time, the red corn poppies were a familiar sight, being some of the first and hardiest plants to grow in the churned up soil around trenches, the morass of no-mans-land between and yes, the freshly dug graves that grew almost as quickly as the poppies themselves across the battlefields.

Poppies were associated with the dead long before WWI however.

Hey, August babies! Let's talk about one of your birth month flowers (and keeping corpses in their graves)!

Did you know that poppies have been found in graves and carved on tombstones all the way back to Roman times? The Greeks and the Romans associated the poppy with forgetfulness and sleep. Giving the dead poppies was supposed to help them sleep in peace, though I did see one article speculating that the poppy seeds found in some graves was more akin to the old legend that the undead have obsessive-compulsive disorder and will be compelled to stop whatever they are doing to count scattered small items like seeds.

GIF by gifs-of-puppets

Who knew Sesame Street was so in touch with its darker side?

Back to the point, the Greek gods Hypnos (sleep), Thanatos (death), Nyx (night) and Morpheus (dreams) all have poppies as their flowers. Pappa means 'milk' in latin and the milky sap as well as the seeds of poppies have been used since ancient times to grant forgetfulness, peace and sleep, tracing as far back as the early Egyptian empires. Multiple opioids are made from the poppy with some of the most famous being opium, heroin, codeine and morphine, named after Morpheus for its dreamlike effect on the human brain and body. The opioid crisis has been with us since at least Victorian times and for many of the same modern reasons back then as well.

Speaking of escape from pain, Demeter, the goddess of agriculture, is associated with poppies as well. It was said that after Persephone was kidnapped by Hades, Demeter was so distraught that the gods gave her poppy seeds to help her sleep and escape her grief for a time. Afterward, the flower would spring up wherever her footsteps fell. The ancient Assyrians also associated poppies with agriculture and in fact, even today, poppies seen growing in cornfields are considered lucky and a sign of a good harvest to come.

Poppies in China are also considered lucky, or at least the smell of them is and they are a melancholic symbol between lovers too. The story I read claims that the poppies growing on his lover's grave gave a Chinese hero the inspiration he needed in battle.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz employed a poppy field to put its heroes to sleep.

Poppies should only ever be given in bouquet of thirteen. Any other number of poppies is considered unlucky.

Greek athletes would mix poppy seeds, wine and honey for an invigoration drink.

In Wales, sleeping with poppy seeds under your pillow will show you the face of your future lover or give you the answer to whatever question you were thinking of when you fell asleep. The seeds are a ward against forgetfulness.

[zombubble]

In Memory; In Truth chapter FOUR, wherein we expand our scope just a bit:

Nie Huaisang chuckles, now. His relationship with Wei-zhenjun is decidedly different. Where Mo Xuanyu has chosen to put his faith in the god and treats him accordingly, Nie-zongzhu still treats him like an old friend. They’re casual with each other. Familiar. Nie-zongzhu finds it amusing that Wei-zhenjun ascended, but not in a malicious way. He does not worship Wei Wuxian, but has been kind enough to make offerings regardless. A favor to a friend, he says they are, and a way for him to repay Wei-zhenjun with offerings and merits, if only a little. Yawning, Mo Xuanyu looks at Nie Huaisang. “It’s so early. They’re really supposed to be here, soon?” “Lan-er-gongzi wakes at sunrise,” Nie Huaisang says. “Wei-xiong doesn’t have to sleep. We need to eat breakfast same as them. They might as well get here early.” “You want an update as soon as possible, too,” Mo Xuanyu points out. Nie Huaisang looks at him, his smile shifting into something a bit more shrewd. The thing about Nie Huaisang is that he’s foppish and whiny, incompetent and absolutely unsuited to his position. The real thing about Nie Huaisang is that’s exactly what he wants you to think, and all of that covers a calculating mind and a frankly terrifying sense of determination and a willingness to justify the means with the end, regardless of what they are. Interestingly, he’s a lot like Wei-zhenjun in some ways.

New players on the scene!!! Yes, in this AU Mo Xuanyu lives! I've been having so much fun writing him. The Mo Xuanyu I created in my brain (because we have so little of him in canon) is fun and kind and determined and willing to fuck someone up in unsavory ways if that's what it takes.

There's some stuff I haven't written yet with him that I'm really looking forward to..... once I get through the scene I've been chewing on for the last few days. Progress is being made, though, and I'm almost at the end of draft number one.

Thanks to @thewalrus-said for helping me choose which bit of this chapter to post, though admittedly I did know this would likely be the final outcome once I sent it.

Thanks to all of you for reading, and I will HOPEFULLY have this weekend free of Moving Bullshit, but we'll see!

[justmeinadaze]

Unattainable Part XII ( Eddie X Theater Girl)

A/N: I rewrote this a few times. To be fair, my brain is all over the place. I need a Joseph Quinn hug lol Anyway, I THINK I have one more chapter left (maybe 2) with this one. Ugh! It's going to kill me. I love them so much.

Warnings: Definitely trauma filled when it comes to Theater Girls parents. Lots of arguing and her dad being a douche. Her anxieties do make a cameo in this one but Eddie's got her <3. Protective Eddie abound in this one!

Word Count: 2968

“Hey, kids.”, Wayne greets us as we enter the trailer; he and my father rising to their feet. Almost on impulse, Eddie took a step in front me acting as a barrier. My dad looked him up and down with a stare loaded with contempt. 

Wayne gestures towards me. “Um, your dad said he came down here to check on you but no one answered the door at your house so he came here.”

“Yeah, Wayne here tells me you guys had gone on a trip alone.” The tone of his voice gets sour at the last word. 

“We took a tour of the school I got accepted to in New York.”, I respond, my own voice shaky. It’s not that I’m afraid of my dad. Sure, he can have a temper but he never lashed out at me like my mother. That doesn’t mean he still couldn’t hurt me with his words or his actions. 

Eddie remained silent but I could tell from his posture he was prepared to defend me if need be. Wayne cleared his throat, startling me. Neither of the other men moved an inch. “Eddie, why don’t you get the young lady’s stuff from your van so she can head out with her dad here.”

“No way in hell.”

“Excuse me?” My father took a determined stride forward and to his, and even my, surprise Eddie did the same.

“I don’t trust you. You left her here to deal with everything by herself. You have no idea what she’s been through.”

“And you do?!”

“Edward!”, Wayne shouts practically shaking the trailer. His face and tone soften as he turns toward me. “You know you are welcome here if you don’t feel safe.”

“It’s ok. I’m ok.” My voice comes out small and I see Eddie’s shoulders deflate in defeat. He turns around without looking at me, slamming open the front door to head for his van. 

Closing my eyes, I try to keep my emotions in check. I listen to Wayne as he speaks to my dad. “Daniel, you may have some idea in your head as to the kind of boy my nephew is. I assure you he is nothing like his father. He’s a good kid and good man for your daughter.”

My eyes open when I hear the sound of footsteps coming towards me. “Yeah well, that’s for me to decide.”

When we head outside, Eddie is standing by my dad’s rental with my things. The car unlocks and he opens it placing the bags in the backseat. He comes around to the passenger side to open the door for me and I fling my body into his, wrapping my arms around him. To my dismay, his arms stay by his sides. 

Welcome home.

I reach up to cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “No. Don’t go back to that place, Eddie. I need you here with me, ok?” His jaw clicks as it tightens, his eyes now fully meeting mine. Balancing on my toes, I place a kiss on his lips. He flashes me a small smile as his finger pushs my hair behind my ear. 

My father huffs air through his nose. “You know what? Maybe Wayne is right. I don’t know the boy. Why don’t you come over for dinner later, huh? What do you say, Munson?”

Eddie turns and glares at him. “I’ll be there.”

My heart breaks as he stares helplessly as we get in the car and drive away. 

####################################

My dad looks around hesitantly as we enter the house. He hasn’t been here since the night he left. 

“So, uh, where is your mother?”

“I’m not sure. She said she’d be out late.”

“Can you call her to see if she’s willing to come home early?”

My eyebrows furrow at his question. “She doesn’t know you’re here?”

“Not exactly. I flew down here as quickly as I could after our last talk.”

I leaned against the back of the couch, crossing my arms. “Wow. Quickly, huh? Only a little over a month. Must be a new record.”

He sarcastically laughs in my direction as he folds his own arms. “You sound just like your mother. Or did you learn that from the Munson kid?”

“Eddie.”

“What was that?”, he snaps.

“His name is Eddie. Not the Munson kid or freak. Eddie.” I scowl at him. “And no. Believe it or not I learned how to stand up for myself on my own.”

He walks over to the phone and brings it to me. “Just call Abigail and get her here.”

#######################

My mother was extremely upset when I told her what was happening. An hour after I phoned her, she barged into the house ready for a fight. 

Preparing for the worst, I had changed into my jeans and one of Eddie’s shirts I stole from his closet. I packed a small bag and hid it near the door knowing that depending on how things went tonight, Eddie would insist I leave with him and I wasn’t prepared to deny him. When my parents are talking to each other, let alone in the same room, it’s complete and utter chaos. 

“So, you’re telling me that not only did you just show up unannounced and welcome yourself back into my house but now I’m expected to cook four people dinner?”

“We can order something. Abby, I’m surprised you haven’t done this already. What do you know about this kid? I mean his father is in jail for Christ’s sake.”

“I’m not sure why you even care. You didn’t even know she had a boyfriend until I told you.”

I was already overwhelmed. I knew this was the beginning of what would be a long evening. My parents watched me as I exited the front door to go outside. The air felt cool against my skin. I laid in the grass, staring up into the sky.

Soon none of this will matter. Soon we will be far away from here and we will be happy. This is just a good reminder of what you are leaving behind. 

No matter where you go, you’re taking it all with you. You can’t run from this.

“Is there a particular reason you are laying on the dirty ass ground, my lady?” Eddie’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as I smile up at him. “And excuse me, is that my shirt?!”

We both laugh and he casually lays down beside me placing his hands behind his head. “Why ARE you out here?”

“I couldn’t take any more in there.” I sigh as I turn my face to meet his. “I know how you feel now. When you say you don’t like the way they talk to me. I’ve been used to it for so long I didn’t think about it…until I heard my dad talk to you and about you. It makes me angry.”

He reaches and intertwines his fingers in mine. “I can take it though. All I care about it what you think of me.” He sits up on his elbow and kisses my forehead down to my lips. The taste of cigarette is stronger than usual on his tongue. “We’re going to be ok tonight. Remember, you’re safe with me.”

“My knight in shining armor.”

#################################

My dad ordered a pizza because my mom refused to cook for him. 

“I’m not obligated to do shit like that for you anymore.”

When it got here and the table was set, everyone sat around it, awkwardly staring at the plates in front of them. 

“So, no one is going to eat then? Fine. More for me.” My dad leans over, grabbing the large box, and placing a couple of slices on his plate. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve had Indiana pizza. In California they try and fancy it up. It’s so odd—”

“Daniel, can you get to point? Honestly, no one cares and, speaking for myself, I don’t want you hear any longer than you have to be.” My mother interrupts him and his eyes narrow in on her. 

“Fine.” He tosses the pizza aggressively back on the table and wipes his hands before placing them under his chin. “Let’s get to it then. Edward!” Eddie looks at my father and I can see that his own protective wall is up, preparing for anything. “I don’t like the idea of you with my daughter.”

“Dad. You said you wanted to invite him over to get to know him.”

“I know what I said!”

“Shocking. Danny says one thing but means another.” My mother takes a sip from her glass. 

“Why?” Eddie’s tone is completely controlled. 

My dad’s angry gaze shifts from my mother back to him. “I know. I know people like you. I grew up here to and yes, I knew your parents. Especially your father. If I wanted my kid to be with some future jailcell bound trailer trash—”

“Dad!”

He points his boney index finger in my direction. “Don’t interrupt me. I’m TIRED of people interrupting me!”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Eddie’s voice sounded like he was still in control but his eyes flashed with warning. “I know I’m not the best guy in the world and yeah, I may be some trailer trash freak but I love your daughter. Even though I know she accepts me for who I am I still want to be better so I can give her the life she deserves.” 

I watch him speak with wide, admire filled eyes. Growing up I always felt like everyone was looking out for themselves. I had to take care of me after my world came crashing down. Eddie was the first person I met who actually cared about what I wanted. 

“And deserves way better than what you both have put her through.”

My mother looks down in shame as my dad immediately comes to the defensive, rising to his feet. “You don’t know anything!”

Eddie stands up as well. “I know what it’s like to have your father abandon you and a mom who doesn’t care!”

“I didn’t abandon my family. Your father is in prison. I can see and visit my daughter anytime I want.”

“Then why don’t you?!”

His question startled my father into silence. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breath. I could feel myself wanting to hyperventilate and Eddie saw it to. He sat back down beside me and pulled my hair out of my face.

“Is that how you feel?” My dad asks me. “Do you feel abandoned? Like I don’t want to see you?”

When I open my eyes, they are met with my mom’s tear-filled stare. She quickly looks away, taking another sip from the vodka in her glass. 

“How else am I supposed to feel? You left us in the middle of the night and run off across the country to be with your new family. Since then, I rarely even see you. Your wife has something coming up or Susie needs a new thing or something going on with the baby. I’m your daughter to.” The tears start to feel and I don’t try to hold them back. “How could you leave us like that? How could you leave me?”

“Honey, I…” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Your mom and I; we started dating when we were really young to. We thought we loved each other and we tried to make it work but… I just couldn’t bring you. I needed to find my own way and figure out who I was. I don’t want you to experience the same thing. I don’t want you to blink and then suddenly it’s ten years later and you’re stuck in a dingey trailer in a small-town taking care of a family by yourself.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The ridiculousness of what he was saying was just so absurd. I felt Eddie’s palm touch the back of my hair. “You know, I think I understand you a bit more now.” He says with a small smile. Grabbing his face with my hands, I pull him in for a kiss. His smile grows as he reaches up with his thumbs to wipe the tears from face. 

Eddie turns to my mom. “You got it from here?”

“Yeah. I can handle him. Did it before either of you were born.” She places her cup down and stands up as we rise from the table. 

“Wait. What the fuck is happening?” My dad’s face in painted with a bewildered expression. 

I grab my little bag by the door and without missing a beat Eddie takes it from me, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Have a great flight back to California, Dad. Maybe now that you supposedly figured out who you are you’ll have better luck with your other two daughters.” 

As we open the door to head to Eddie’s van my dad reaches for my arm to pull me back. Eddie was quicker, spinning me around, and out of the way. “Not a good idea.” My father straightens up to square with Eddie but I can tell in his eyes he’s done. He genuinely does just want to get out of this town and head back home. 

“It’s funny that you’re so afraid of me hurting her yet you break her heart every day. I wish you two could understand how amazing she is. She’s changed my life in just a few months. You guys had her for her whole life and this is what you decided to do with it?” Eddie shakes his head in disappointment. Taking my hand in his, we head for his van, and drive off into the night.

###########

“Eddie, stop the car.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” He glances between me and the road.

“Just pull over, please!”

The van screeches to a halt on the side of the road as Eddie pulls over. “What is it? Are you ok?”

I unbuckle my seat belt and climb across the small area into his lap, pulling his mouth to mine. His hands slide up to grip my face bring me closer to him as I grind my hips against him. 

“Now. Need you. Please.”, I whimper between kisses. He unbuckles his own seatbelt and lifts my up, pushing me between the seats to the back of his van. I hastily fumble with his belt as he aggressively pulls my jeans and panties down. 

Eddie removes his lips from mine and spits into his hand, reaching between my legs to spread it into my already weeping folds. I exhale a heavy moan as his fingers glide against me. He pulls out his cock, pumping it a few times with his soaking hand, and easily inserts himself into my aching cunt. 

Pushing my hands against his chest, I roll him over onto his back. I grind against his hips as quickly as I can but for the moment it’s not hard enough. I need it harder. As if reading my mind, Eddie’s hands grip my waist, guiding me till I’m bouncing on his cock. He hits that spongey spot inside of me making me moan out his name. 

“Harder. Baby. Please.” I beg him. “Please.” 

He sits up and locks his arms around my back as he thrust up into me roughly. Wrapping my arms around his head, I cling to him, pulling him to my chest. I can hear and feel him grunting into my skin. I fall over the edge as I cum, my pussy tight and throbbing around him. Eddie slows his pace but pumps his hips hard into me as I ride myself through my orgasm. 

I lean my cheek against the top of his head as he picks up speed again chasing his own release. His arms let me go and one of his hands reaches to pull my head back. His thumb traces my face as he looks up at me with those beautiful lust blown eyes. 

He pushes me off of him and I watch as he gives his dick a few more quick pumps with his hand before his body shudders as he cums. I look around and hand him a napkin which he uses to clean himself off. I lean back against the cold metal of the van and Eddie slithers with his pants still stuck around his ankles beside me, both panting as we try catch our breath. 

He takes my hand in his. “You okay?”

I smile as I turn my head to face him. “You ask me that a lot.”

He chuckles. “You’re right. I should stop caring.”

“Yeah. I’m okay. More than okay.” I reach and move a piece of his long hair out of his face. “I’m really sorry for what he said to you. About you. I don’t think any of that stuff.”

“I know. That’s all that matters to me.” Eddie grins as he places a kiss on the back of my hand. “I’M sorry for what he said to YOU. No one should have to hear bullshit like that from one of their parents. But, um, like I said, I do understand you more and some of the things I know you tell yourself even though they are nowhere near true.”

The sound of my stomach growling echoes through the van making Eddie cackle as he grabs his own stomach. I punch his arm lightly. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m hungry! We didn’t actually eat anything.”

He leans forward and pulls up his pants crawling for the front seat. I do the same as he extends his hand to help me. “Come on, Princess. Let’s go find some sustenance!”

#######################

Tages: @hufflepuffprincess24 @fanfiction-lover-24 @theoriginaldoll87

[xenonmoon]

Ok this is a part I've completely forgotten from when I've read this comic the first time

Wait, is this a flashback that fills in when they mentioned during the 2006 era (surely one of the Hulk crossovers from around that time) in which he mentions having been to a psych?

Here:

Why am I trying to identify some resemblance of continuity into a marvel comic series

Huh?

So Marc was convinced he """"caught"""" DID while assuming the roles of Steven and Jake and he asked to be tested.

Let's not forget: This was how the character was first written to be, inspired by a real life case of a (what back then was known as MPD) patient, but inspired only. It was mainly a story of a deeply traumatised man who got heavily "lost in character" trying to run away from his past and guilt. It got the vibes, but it was meant to be a different thing. Different times and all of that.

With time, two versions of his condition emerged: one that leant more into the "his other identities are characters he impersonates / he's convinced to be" reading more heavily, and one that leant more into "The others are separate entities with some degree of autonomy"

They are both different readings of the same concept, which were used by different writers in different degrees depending on their interpretation of the character and the story they wanted to tell.

Moench always tried to play on the ambiguity of it and anyone (characters and readers alike) could interpret it in their own way.

Dixon and Huston, just to name some, went more with the 1st while Steven Grant (the writer) is the holy prophet of the 2nd during the early days (he's the one who established it as a proper reading after all).

However, the second reading seemed to have sort of disappeared after a while. Sort of like, during the late 80s till the 90s talking about someone with potential MH issues was apparently not cool? Most writers seemed to have completely forgotten about that.

Then the turn of the century happened and suddenly talking about MH was cool. But apparently everyone forgot which particular brand of MH struggles the character had so people sort of made up their own?

Or just fucking slapped some cheap pop psychology shit like "borderline psychotic" "psychopath" or "multiple personality disordered" or stuff like that. Throwaway labels that were in no way reflected by the plot. Ok the last one almost ALMOST got it and really stuck with the character (despite the alleged "personalities" almost never appearing or being treated as aliases) but-

There's one problem though. Even if he was confirmed to have That Specific Disorder (which is, in our civilised terms, DID), there'd be one problem.

It's a real disorder with real diagnostic criteria and real people living with it. The character wasn't written to fit said criteria and work exactly like one, only to show similarities on a surface level.

Trying to claim something that isn't made to be X is X shows both poor understanding of the X thing and poor respect for people living with X, or even worse contribute diffusing harmful stereotypes about the X thing. Classic rep gambit, for this reason most of the times I think it's better leaving it unmentioned unless you know what you're doing.

Well that's dramatic

(I omitted a part because it's funnier in its separate post)

That's... one way to do it? It's very conservative of what was said in the previous runs connecting them all without overriding anything significant. And gives it a supernatural (? sci-fi?) origin (brain got rewritten by an entity), so to distance itself from any real world connections (outside of its resulting behaviour)

Clever in its own way, as it's a solid attempt to bring order to chaos while being respectful to previous works.

I'm not sure I like it. Most likely not, as it shift from an internal, mental struggle to an external and more "physical" cause that can be "removed" by eliminating the agent responsible for it (in this case, the ancient consciousness from beyond space-time). MK's condition is no more something that stems from him but that was "done" to him, something that somewhat reminds me of when they thought MPD was iatrogenic and didn't actually exist?

But it's not really really that eloquent on how much exactly is Khonshu's fault and how much stems from MK trying to manage their condition. And how much of all of that is a permanent change.

While I really dislike the "because it's crazy" introduction it sort of serves ad a bridge from the previous era of the character (in which everyone labelled as such without motive, as I've said) so it can be properly dismantled and disposed of as the character slowly transitions to a new "era".

I can respect the attempt, while not exactly fond of it

[recurring-polynya]

Fanfic Round-up 2022

Well. I survived 2022. Sometimes that's all you can say.

It was my worst writing year on record, by far. I posted 199,638 works this year, which sounds pretty good, but a huge chunk of that was written in 2021. A more honest estimate puts me at 113k or possibly even more like 103k. :/

Anyway, so what did I do?

Well, I spent the first part of the year posting What We Do with Our Hearts, which is the aforementioned big chunk of workcount I did in 2021. Overall, I feel like it was well-received, especially for being a story about a guy's not-great relationship with his grandfather. It never got a whole lot of kudos compared to hits, which is perplexing to me-- I don't know if started it and didn't like it, or people just forgot or what. I got lots and lots of comments on it, tho, so I know that the people who liked it really liked it, and that's all that really matters.

I also did a couple of short stories for Rukia's birthday, which you can find in chapters 2-4 of my anthology fic, Squad Six is Jerks, vol III. The first is about Rukia and Ichigo trying to talk about their love lives like the idiots they are, and the second two are continuations of some of my more popular AUs, the transcendentally stupid Rukia and Renji join Squad 11 much to the dismay of Byakuya's blood pressure AU, and a modern AU where Renji is a tattoo artist and Rukia is his high-powered businesswoman client (more about this later).

a jackrabbit underneath isn't a very happy one. I always thought there was an extra dimension of Awful to that Academy-training-trip-gone-nightmare story, in the sense that Rukia and Renji say some unkind things to one another shortly before Renji departs, and I wanted to poke around at that bruise.

ohhhhhhhhh, I wanted to badly to finish a little in love this year, and I worked on it a bunch and didn't feel particularly good about it and gave. I did write one single interlude chapter, which was about Rukia coming to live with the Kuchiki, except in this AU, her sister is there, dying. I sure was a ray of sunshine in the early part of this year!

I should back up actually, because that's not exactly true. I spent a lot of the spring on a sequential art project, my Soul Society Tattoo Artist AU, which wasn't exactly fanfic, but it took up some of the same space in my brain. There's a tattoo artist-related subplot in What We Do with Our Hearts, and I think I was looking back at it and realized that I had missed a prime opportunity to do a Tattoo Artist AU that took place in-universe, in the sense that it's all still in Soul Society, but thru a series of Hisana-related twists, Rukia and Renji never met in Inuzuri, Renji never made it to Shin'ou, and becomes a tattoo artist, instead. I mean, there is a fanfic part, two entirely separate fanfic parts, actually, none of which I actually posted. It was probably the most fun thing I worked on this year, and I hope to pick it back up again eventually.

I guess I did some short stories, too, this year? I wrote a little present for @fluffnflightillustrations that takes place in her Princess-Knight AU. I did a prompts even around May, where I got people to suggest "What if?" scenarios. You can find them in my what if requests tag, or they are collected in Chapters 6-13 of Squad Six is Jerks, vol III.

Okay, now we're back up to the summer where I failed to finish a little in love. I eventually gave up, because it just wasn't happening, and I picked up that Modern Tattoo Artist AU again, and tooled into an actual story, this could be permanent, you know. It is complete, I finished it up right before Christmas. I've always wanted to write a romcom, and now I can say I have done it. It's a pretty cute story, I guess, and I would probably like it more if someone else had written it. I'm not sure if it's because it's a modern AU, which I like to read but feel weird about writing, or if it's because I wrote it in an as-I-went format instead of writing the whole thing out, but I got almost zero sense of satisfaction after finishing it, which was...frustrating. I'm glad other people liked it, at least-- statistically, it's one of my most popular fanfics by nearly every measure. Figures.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I wrote wherever is your heart, i call home, a porno about the joys of married people late night shower sex.

Edit, b/c I forgot: I also wrote a couple of short stories as part of the Bleach Returns! event in October, to celebrate the return of the anime! There was the Renji's Bad Tea: the Origin Story, and Happy Squad 10 Day, To Those Who Celebrate.

What an incredibly strange year!

I've spent the last two weeks or so in an absolute rage about how much I hate my own writing and how disappointed I am in myself, but, jeez, writing all that out, it feels like more than it was. I dunno. My resolution from last year was to have more fun writing and...I dunno. I feel like some of that was fun, but there was also a lot of making myself miserable, and then hardly having anything to show for it.

Anyway, I've decided that 2023 is not going to be a writing year. That's not to say I'm not going to do any writing, but I'm gonna put myself under any pressure, and if I don't write anything... well...¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maybe I've written enough. Mostly I just want get back to some of my projects that I've been neglecting. I really want to pick up the next part of Heart is a Muscle again, and I'm feeling a little kinder about what I managed to write of a little in love last summer. Finishing either of them would be amazing, but I'd honestly be happy to just make a little more progress. Anyway, every year doesn't have to be a writing year. I'm hoping to have an art year and a houseplant year and my-volunteer-job year and maybe do some redecorating in my house year. If some writing falls out as a byproduct, that's great, but if not, that's fine, too.

[wizzardhat]

you know i had a feeling i would end up having to break my oath to make an in-character choice, and it would have been cute and gay if it came as a consequence of something to do with gale, but all things considered im like, of course it would end up being related to astarion. an oath of the ancients paladin cannot just become besties with an undead vampire without enduring at least one major moral dilemma. gonna add a readmore for spoilers and rambling

i released the 7000 spawn. of course i did. the alternatives were to let them rot in cages for eternity or kill all of them. im curious if letting astarion complete the ritual would have broken the oath as well. It would be painfully ironic if the answer was no. but when it came down to make a choice between protecting the innocent and destroying the undead, my paladin chose to protect the innocent, and that was apparently the wrong answer. But really, it was the only answer that didnt prove them to be a complete hypocrite.

i like this a lot as the logical conclusion of their friendship with astarion, extreme opposites meeting in the middle. specifically im thinking of a line you get from him early on, when he tries to convince you to take control of the cult of the absolute. if you say "that is evil power" he says something along the lines of, "power is just power, its the people who use it who are good or evil." Damn if that isn't almost exactly the same sentiment you get form your conversation with the oathbreaker knight.

i have an imagined backstory for my tav that is related to the character they're based on--which is, ironically, also an oathbreaker paladin. That character broke his oath because he refused to give up on someone he loved past the point when they were dangerous to keep alive, and betrayed another paladin to protect them. But for my Tav, I let the opposite be true--they did give up on that person, because their order had convinced them it was the right thing to do, and as a result they had to watch their loved one die. So my Tav carried a deep sense of regret their whole life for that one mistake, and made a personal conviction to never give up on someone who needed them, or who they loved.

That conviction is what I imagine lead them down the morally dubious paths they had to take to complete the various companion quests, and on some level, i think they knew that eventually the oath they made to their god and the oath they made to themself would split. this backstory tidbit also adds a lot of extra layers to the line you say to gale (if you are romancing him) when you confront the elder brain at the end of act two, to "choose the one who loves you." because thats exactly what they failed to do, and it was a mistake they refuse to make again.

And in a game where gods are generally not to be trusted, my paladin abandoning an oath in favor of their own sense of justice thematically makes a lot more sense then being like, rip to you guys but my god is different lmao (although i guess selune is shown to be unambiguously good but thats only because shes standing next to shar, the bitch of all time.) also when romancing gale theres something kind of extra gay about "lets abandon our gods together." im sure gale would have a LOT to say to a distressed paladin with a freshly broken oath given everything with mystra being just as fresh.

mechanically though, idk if i can keep this change lmao. i rely way too much on misty step to give it up as a spell. Unless i dual class in to something else that gives me misty step. or i can just stay next to gale every fight and rely on him dragging me around with dimension door lmao--i do have at least one item that gives me one free misty step per short rest. also not having speak with animals will shatter my heart lmfao. i guess ill decide tomorrow if i want to reclaim my oath for purely mechanical reasons and just hc the oath staying broken, or actually commit to the practical consequences. I could also just like. try it out for awhile and talk to the knight again if i change my mind. at least i fucking hope thats the case lol.

[eatzmoth]

The Madness? Of Mono Yellow

If you've been on the internet in the past few years there's a chance you've heard the phrase "the madness of mono yellow." Maybe you can't place your finger on where it came from or maybe you know exactly what im talking about. The source of this phrase comes from the 4chan post that started the idea of the backrooms. 

No this post is not going to be about the backrooms. Instead, just for a moment, I want to talk about the picture of the backrooms. It's considered a liminal space. Defining liminal space is kind of tricky and there are many meanings and there are some great videos out there that talk about them and their nature so i'd go check them out! The best way I can describe a liminal space is by an area that invokes a certain feel to it, with usually a mix of creepiness, nostalgia, and artificialness. Usually liminal spaces have a certain type of lighting that helps gives us this kind of feeling. But what about the lighting that makes it creepy, nostalgia, and artificial? Creepy and artificial can be explained by the low lighting and "underbaked" almost game like quality it gives the photo. How can lighting be nostalgic? The truth is lighting plays an important role in our lives and sometimes, as an autistic person, I feel like im the only person who really appreciates it (and at times the most effected by it.)

If you were born before 2010 you might know what im talking about, but didn't lighting feel warmer? No im not talking about the actual feel of them. What I mean is the tone of a light bulb. Some lights are on more on the warmer end of the light spectrum and some are on the more cooler end of the spectrum. I don't know why but I remember the only places where you'd experience truly white lightbulbs or lightbulbs on the cooler end of the spectrum where school, industrial buildings, and sometimes hospitals. These were places where I actually experienced the most discomfort due to my sensory issues and I never really understood until I started to research about it. I feel like in the past few years truly white lights or more cool leaning lights have become popular. I think it's because it's considered more modern. Some of my most prevalent memories with this shift in tone has to be when my parents ran out of the lightbulbs they had stocked up on and had to get new ones that had the more cooler tone, and funny enough when our local target changed it's design. I remember walking into the bathroom and turning the lights on and immediately running to my mom about it. Also my local target still had the same design as it did from the late 90s and when they changed it they updated the lights and whole atmosphere to be more "industrial." Nonetheless it feels like I cannot escape this new cooler tone lightbulbs and it's made my sensory issues noticeably worse. I'll never understand when older people talk about pleasant everything looks now compared to like the decor in the 60s/70s. Obviously I wasn't alive then but I feel like the 60s/70s can be described by the color yellow and yellowish lighting. It seems more friendly and inviting to me but again, it's because im autistic. I think you also see this more because of the whole minimalist aesthetic becoming popular.. something I equally hate. 

I believe this is what brings the nostalgic feel to certain liminal spaces. Theres been a noticeable decrease in the use of yellow toned lighting throughout the decades and if you were born in the 90s or early 2000s you may especially get nostalgic over this kind of lighting whether you realize it or not. If you have read up to this I just want to say thank you, this was basically just a brain dump but i'd like to hear other people's thoughts about this!!

[fallcrestrpg]

lıllı Hotel: Merfolk Suite - Morning 12/26 ıllıllı

DYLAN

The relief she felt when the kids reverted back to their original selves. While it was interesting to be carrying around a mini Julian, it was not the same - not that she'll ever admit that vocally. "It's finally more quiet on this floor." She snorted, "Strange, but nice." She commented after months being surrounded by babies and their parents. Everyone clearly went their own ways to spend the day, which Dylan is very much thankful for.

FERNANDA

Fernanda simply gave her an unimpressed look from across the room. "It's not exactly like you couldn't have just asked to be moved to another floor at any point," she pointed out. The mermaid knew the woman wouldn't because whether she ever bothered to admit it or not, Fer and the kids were the only reason she was in Florida to begin with.

DYLAN

Her fingers stopped typing when Fernanda responded, looking up over her laptop screen. "Would you move up with me if I were to book the whole floor to ourselves?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Despite her time spent with the cousins, the whole family and friends gathering was still something out of her comfort zone.

FERNANDA

"At the time? Of course not. The entire purpose of me staying here with the rest is because I was part of the support network all adults came up with so we wouldn't be overrun by teenage-brained toddlers," Fer replied with ease, her tone as even as if they were discussing the weather. "_Now_, however? It would be a completely different set of circumstances. One of the key ones being that said toddlers have now reverted to their fully-grown, hormone-driven selves and Aunt Dee was wise enough to already book a room a floor below because she does not wish to be in the midst of _that_..."

DYLAN

Her eyes did not leave Fernanda's as she closed her laptop and set it off to the side. "So.. you are saying you'll be willing *now* because if that's a yes..." Dylan would get it all sorted out in a heartbeat if Fernanda said yes. Another thing to never tell Nox about. Because she doubt the kids still needed supervision if even Dee herself moved elsewhere. However, she took a pause when another thought came about. "This whole trip, you've been teasing me quite a bit, darling. I almost feel like this is one of those times as well."

FERNANDA

"If you book a different suite -I could not care less if the entire floor is included or not- I can assure you that I will certainly be following you to that suite." There was nothing in her tone of look that would indicate she wasn't serious. Not that this was much to go on, as Dylan had stated, the mermaid was a master for deception in that realm. But this time she was definitely serious in her intent...at least of moving. She would not commit to anything else just yet.

DYLAN

It was enough that her brother and Nox was going to tease her about it - she was legitimately a dead woman if her father saw how foolish she was acting over someone. Regardless, Dylan got to the phone and started making arrangement. She *could* have gotten someone to do it for her, but some things are quicker when done by herself.

However, the disappointment she briefly felt when she learned she couldn't clear a whole floor 'in such short notice' or so they said. Nonetheless, she did manage to snag one of the luxurious bi-level penthouse suites. "Shall we head up? We could send someone for our stuff later."

FERNANDA

She watched but made not motion or sound as Dylan had her daily little power-trip with the poor soul who answerd the phone. She did grin in response to her words and said, "Sure! It'll give me an early start to see if I want to claim the first or second level of the suite for myself."

DYLAN

Her eyes narrowed as she was just opening the front door. "Here I thought we were going to *share* both levels of the suite." As someone who learned not to have high hopes at an early age, she found herself strugging with the mermaid's words. Still, she pressed ahead and led the other towards the elevator which was en route to their suite. "Hmm.. not bad." She commented the moment she stepped in.

FERNANDA

"That's what happens when you make assumptions," Fer replied with ease. "Next time, consider asking if one other person you're going to share the space with believes two-levels are really necessary. Otherwise, I'm left to believe you made this choice so we each had our own space." She gave a hum of agreement as she walked in past and took a seat. "It's not entirely a loss. Think of it as a lesson in what _not_ to do if our future merger goes through. Making all the decisions yourself inevitably backfires."

DYLAN

"What's wrong with having a bi-level suite? We've got the common areas on the lower floor, and then one bedroom, lots of closet space, a large bathroom with a big enough tub if you wanted to let your tail out instead - there's a shower as well. A nice terrace." She hummed as she took note of the place. "Look at these tall windows too." She chuckled as she stood by the window, taking in the view.

"It's a vacation - a well-deserved break. Why can't we endulge ourselves a little?" Mostly she wanted Fernanda to relax since she was the one doing most of the work with the kids and the furry ones.

FERNANDA

She couldn't help but laugh a little at the response she got. "I'm sorry, I can see that your intentions are surprisingly genuine in their rather self-less root, _but_ you just sounded like a real estate agent trying to sell me on a place."

She stood up and we to pull the other into a hug, arms draped loosely around Dylan's neck. "My point, however, is that maybe you should start working on getting into the habit of _actually_ asking things," she said with a small chuckle and peck to the woman's nose.

DYLAN

Was she semi-sulking? Maybe, but that easily went away when she felt the mermaid pull her in. "...Right." She mumbled as her arms instinctively wrapped around Fernanda's waist. Asking people was definitely not something Dylan was accustomed to, ordering people? Yes but as experience had told her, one could not order Fernanda to do anything.

Dylan visibily relaxed when she got a little peck, smiling softly without realizing that's what she was even doing. "...But do you like the place? Because it is pretty nice, isn't it? If anything, I think the view is pretty worth it."

FERNANDA

It was one of the first times they were alone -truly alone- since...ever, really. Even before the kids had gone all baby-mode, they were still around. And when the kids weren't around, rooms full of old men and coworkers certainly were. Knowing that doing so in anything even remotely resembling a public setting, Fer opted to go ahead and voice her thoughts now.

"Yes, I do like the place. But I can assure you that the view outside the 'tall windows' is nothing compared to that of you just naturally smiling, without having felt the need to so something cruel or pretentious for the sake of revenge," she began, making sure her gaze met the others. "I like the place, yeah, but I want you to know that I also like _you_. The _real_ you. The you that was willing to leave the idea of making our relationship a game of one-upmanship and instead took the time to learn how to practically be a new person in order to help me with my cousins, to help me with work, and that it was something you _wanted_ to do."

DYLAN

Dylan could actually feel her cheeks grow hot when Fernanda revealed what she liked about her, describing them in ways that she would have never heard before. Even now, she didn't feel like the mermaid was describing her at all because it just felt.. so strange.

However, her eyes did soften when the younger woman elaborated what exactly Dylan did. "...hmm.. The real me, huh?" That was something that she didn't know herself since she had been the Dylan Waldorf that everyone else saw for so long. With their close distance, she stole a kiss on the lips before hugging the other tightly against her as a distraction to hide how flustered she must've looked. "Well, a lot of it might just be because getting on Dee's bad side seems to be a very bad idea."

FERNANDA

She didn't fight the woman's attempt to hide her face. Clearly Dylan had no idea that trying to hide how bashful she was being, was in turn making her seem _more_ bashful, and ever cuter. Instead, Fer just chuckled and said, "Stop doing that. Shifting the blame on being scared of Aunt Dee isn't going to change my mind. I've _seen_ the real _you_ now. And I find it far more attractive than the cold-hearted, power hungry facade you put up at the office."

DYLAN

Giving up the plan of hiding herself, she pulled away and maneuvered Fernanda to be in front of her so she could hug the woman from behind while they looked out the window. Any means to get her from staring so deeply into her eyes. "Well, that facade isn't going anywhere.." The board was filled with stubborn old men, some of whom who had voiced many times that they'd prefer if her father hadn't given Dylan the position. Even if Dylan was capable, it was hard to be 'nice' with them.

"Okay, enough of that. What do you want to do?"

FERNANDA

At the mention of Dylan's decision to keep her cold approach, Fer sighed and said, "Look, I completely understand why you feel the need to keep it around _some_ people, but at the risk of being told to get my own suite, I do think it's high-time you considered making amends for the things you've done to _some others_ under the sam guise." She shifted slightly so that she was looking at Dylan directly in the eye as she said, "Kieran may be far too kind to ever _demand_ an apology from you, but I'm not. My feelings for you do not overwrite my desire to see justice and fairness be the way that we all lead our lives, and no one was treated more unjustly and unfairly by you than her." It was a difficult topic, she knew, and would understand if suddenly her input on the plans for the rest of the day no longer mattered as much.

DYLAN

She was literally trained not to give herself away but with the close proximity and Fernanda's ability to read her so well, Dylan was sure she noticed everything when the half-demon stilled. "Would it even make a difference?" She stood up straighter while one arm fell back to her side. With how she used Kieran and given her personality, Kieran could probably see it from a mile away that it was because of Fernanda that she even remotely thought about apologizing.

FERNANDA

"The only way to find out for sure, is to do it," replied succinctly, before a slight look of disappointment crossed her features and she added, "Regardless, the point of apologizing isn't for it to 'make a difference', it's to give us the opportunity to let those we've wronged or hurt _know_ that we're aware our actions were _wrong_ and we would like the opportunity to make amends."

DYLAN

Dylan almost looked skeptical at the reasoning. To apologize and to make amends would also mean that one would have to *regret* what they did. Did she regret? Dylan would say no. of course, she was not about to say any of this out loud. "...Right. I don't see this going well." If anything, Kieran might not accept it and they'll call it a day.

FERNANDA

The mermaid looked at Dylan for a moment before the look of disappointment on her face was replaced by one of incredulity. Pulling away so she could turn to face the woman fully, Fernanda crossed her arms across her chest and let out a scoff as she said, "I get it now. It's not that you don't _know_ what the purpose of an apology is -second instance of me making an ass of myself today- but the reason you don't see a point to one is because you _really_ don't believe what you did was wrong. Or rather, you don't _care_ that it was." She let out a bitter laugh as she shook her head. "Wow, _first_ instance of me making an ass of myself today was clearly thinking that I'd gotten to know you, because obviously I got the whole thing completely backwards. The facade isn't what I saw initially, but what you've been showing me instead. I am such a fucking idiot," she exclaimed, already making her way to the door. "I'll make sure your things get sent up for you," was thrown over her shoulder as she headed back down.

DYLAN

The way her heart clenched in a way she never quite experienced before. The fear that gripped her before she gathered enough wit to go after the younger woman. "Fernanda." Whatever Waldorf mentality that was hammered into her soul went out the window as she grabbed the mermaid by the wrist to stop her from walking further, "Wait.. *Please*." When was the last time she, a Waldorf, begged anyone who wasn't her own father? "Don't go... I - I" She took a breathe before she continued, "I'm.. I'm sorry. Fernanda, what you've seen, it's not.. it's not a fascade, I swear.." It wasn't a lie during all those times when Dylan was trying to be a better person, but somehow it always ended up strictly reserved for the mermaid's family. It hadn't been the first time when her infamous Waldorf attitude came back at full force.

FERNANDA

The mermaid stopped at the touch on her wrist, but was sure to pull herself free almost immediately after. Stopping her was Dylan's choice, but staying would be her _own_. Though the hurt in her eyes didn't fully ebb away, it was significantly replaced by blazing anger. "How- _how_, Dylan, am I expected to believe that you won't eventually do something to hurt me or _my family_ and think nothing of it, if you can't even bring yourself to admit that getting someone who _loved you_ shot and almost sent to jail isn't _at the very least_ worth an apology?"

Fer closed her eyes for a moment and took a few breaths. When she glanced up at Dylan, there was a hint of understanding to her gaze. "Part of me knows, that you don't _actually_ believe what you did was even remotely right or that you truly _don't care_ that it was wrong at all," she began, "But until you reach a point where you realize that you don't _have_ to rely on that mentality and approach to retain your power, you're just as likely to repeat your actions."

DYLAN

It was another hit to that wrenching feeling when Fernanda pulled away from her. She couldn't blame the other for thinking so given her track record and she at least knew to look a bit ashamed by her actions.. and how she reacted while they were upstairs. For now, she kept silent because it didn't seem like the younger woman was finished.. And just as she thought maybe she thought wrong and opened her mouth - she immediately closed it again and listened to the rest.

"...A lot of what my family does..and what I did- What I *do* wouldn't ever be classified as *right*." It was no secret that they purposely do things to avoid the law after all. The amount of shady deeds she's done, however, had decreased ever since the mermaid started convincing her to get her company clean. That was hard enough on its own. All her life she was taught that putting fear in people was the most effective way and everything she's been doing with Fernanda was undoing all of that. She was really conflicted most of the times, being wary that word would go back to her father.

"...When I go apologize.." She dragged her words with uncertainty, "Will.. you be there?" She had a feeling they might find her to be a little too suspicious if she went up to them by herself.

FERNANDA

"I'm fully aware of that, _Dylan_. If you and your family were upstanding citizens, my uncles wouldn't have felt the need to do business with you," Fer reminded her. It was borderline insulting for the half-demon to be making note of the fact that she came from a family whose habits left much to be desired when obviously the mermaid would be aware that having come from a similar family herself.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and once again took a moment to calm down. "Yes, a lot of our molding does come from our upbringing and surroundings, but we _all_ reach a point at which our decisions and choices become our own. As such, we have to _own_ them, be they right or be they mistakes." Fernanda shook her head slowly at the question. "No. You didn't need anyone's support or approval to cause Kieran harm, you'll similarly face the consequences of your actions on your own. If I go with you, I'll always be left wondering if the only reason you did it was to play the part of the 'good girl' for my benefit, and I don't want that. Kieran doesn't deserve it either."

DYLAN

"Yes, well.. Point taken." As expected, she was supposed to go by herself. Since she didn't want to disappoint the other again with her bad choices, Dylan just nodded. Kieran did sacrifice quite a bit ever during the time they were together. Despite her actions, it was genuinely a surprise when she took a bullet for her.

"I suppose that's my cue to first go find her then." Even Dylan was not going to push her luck any further than this. She was already grateful enough that Fernanda didn't walk off when she grabbed her. "... Where will you be?"

FERNANDA

The mermaid took yet another steadying breath before looking directly at Dylan once more. "I don't want to be your 'cue' to the right thing. As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to see that this entire thing was _my_ mistake. Doing the right thing should've been something _you_ prompted yourself to do, and the fact that after all this time you hadn't been bothered to do it, should've been _my_ cue to question your motives sooner."

She waved a dismissive hand as she turned to head towards the door once more. "I'm going back to spend the rest of the vacation with my family. You're free to do whatever you'd like in your new suite."

[asteriaspirit]

Call & Response

“Thanks for your patience. Eager to chat. All good on my end. What's your schedule this week?”

Maybe I should've expected it.

It wasn't unusual for Kenneth to disappear off the face of the earth for two or three weeks, complaining about work and deadlines and stress, before popping back into my life as if he had never left. These text messages between us were common place—more common that I would have liked to admit...or accept. And they always caught me off guard; just when I was at the point of leaving, of walking away and never looking back on our relationship for the past year, another one of these damned messages would ping my inbox and I would read it. All those traitorous butterflies would swoop and spin in my stomach and my brain would conveniently forget that he had been missing for two or three weeks—but almost a month this time.

I worry my bottom lip as I unlock my phone and set my thumbs to tapping out a quick reply.

“Hey. Glad to know you're okay—”

I groan, re-reading the words and knowing that if they sounded sarcastic in my head, there was no way they wouldn't sound the same in his. So, I delete the line.

“Hey,” I type for the second time. “I'm pretty free this week. I've got work coming up in two days—training a new girl—and then I'm off on vacation until next Friday. Are you in my neck of the woods?”

I read it over, read it a second time, read it a third time and contemplate adding an emoji or two, but, honestly, I can't be bothered. He leaves on these long trips to the West Coast and I don't hear hide nor hair of him. No snap-chat messages, no random emojis or pics sent via text message. There's nothing. He might as well be dead.

Hell, a few times I was convinced that I'd hear about his untimely demise from some friend that snoops through his messages and relays the ghastly news to all of his contacts.

I hesitate before pressing the send key and I'm thoroughly surprised when his response is quickly.

“Should be. I'm about five hours out right now. Hoping that the boss man sends me in your direction. Been missing you terribly.”

I snort. I know exactly what he's been missing. And...I don't blame him; I've missed him in the same manner, especially on nights when I got to go home early and the apartment was too quiet. Even when we did nothing but lay in the bed together and scroll on our phones, the company was always nice. It was appreciated. But how can he sit there and say he's missed me when he hasn't reached out once? Would it have been so hard to send a thumbs up to let me know everything was okay? That he was okay?

I crane my head to the left and then to the right, attempting to ease the strain that I can feel building at the base of my skull. It didn't used to be like this. There was a point in time when I looked forward to talking with him, to laughing with him and learning about him, but that was...quite some time ago. I doubt we'll ever return to those simple and easy mannerisms again.

And that's a shame.

“Well,” I find myself typing after nibbling on my bottom lip for much too long. “Let me know when you're here and I'll do what I can to make it work out.”

The smiley-face I send him is in good faith. There's no subtext, no hidden meaning to it. I will do what I can to make sure that we have at least one night together. Even if he annoys me, there is a craving that we share that must be sated and I'd be a fool to ignore it for any longer than I already have. Granted, it's his fault that it's been ignored, pushed to the wayside and forcibly forgotten. And now that he's return, it too has reared its ugly head. It feels hungry and vicious inside of me. I wonder if it tugs at him in the same manner that it does me...

The phone dings a third time and I stop gathering my things from the passenger seat to peek at it. Surely he's not still talking, right?

“I apologize again for being out of touch,” the messages states and I can feel my eyebrows lifting. He is not the type of person to apologize directly. There's always a reason behind the apology. He was running late, he forgot something at his hotel, he didn't know that we were meeting an hour before and not an hour later, etcetera. I accept these words, swallow them down and force them to fill this hole that he's made of me; a hole that can only be filled by him.

“I've had a crazy time out west, but not in a good way. It's been...pretty stressful. And I'm hoping that I can relax for a few days and we can get back into our regular routine before I'm gone again. Shouldn't be gone long this time, only a few days. And then I should be back more next month. A lot more than I have been.”

I exhale slowly. Because I've heard these words before—I've read these exact phrases before and I don't want to get my hopes up. I don't want to throw logs onto the budding embers of hope and have it all blow up in my face a third time. Honestly, it's probably been more times than that, but I don't want to think about all the times my heart has overruled my brain and left everyone confused when the outcome was the same.

“I completely understand that,” I type back while nodding to myself. “I've been working like a dog and there's all this shit happening at work—lots of turnover. I've been out of sorts too. So, if you're feeling low, don't worry about us linking up. It's no big deal.”

The hole inside my stomach yawns and growls in disagreement. I can feel sweat begin to bead along my upper lip even though the dashboard reads that outside of my tiny Versa Note, it is a cool 53° Fahrenheit. I shouldn't feel warm, I shouldn't feel achy or even teary-eyed as I press the send button.

I reach toward the driver's side door handle and pull it open when the phone dings a fourth time.

At this point, I'm never getting out of the car.

...And it's that thought that forces me out of the car.

If he was so intent on speaking to me, then he could wait until I've gotten in and settled down from work. After all, this normally happened the other way around; me waiting on a response from him about...whatever. The time we were meeting up, the place where he wanted to hang out for the night; he'd tell me these things last minute and then expect me to just appear there as if I had some cosmic powers of teleportation.

It wouldn't kill him to wait on a reply from me. No more than it killed me the past three weeks waiting on him.

I'm thankful that I live on the first floor of the apartment building. I don't have the energy to climb up stairs tonight and I shoulder open my front door while attempting to stop myself from yawning. I can almost feel the soft cushions of the bed beneath me, but there's things I have to do before I can succumb to the blissful void of slumber.

Bags get thrown onto one end of my couch, I toe off my gym shoes and shrug out of my jacket before hanging it up. I make sure the front door is locked before I find myself slumping down on the couch as well, a groan of satisfaction tumbling from between my teeth. Oh, it felt amazing to be home.

“Thanks for that,” his message reads, “but I want to get back to our routine. As long as you do as well? Everything okay? You seem mopey.”

I squint at the phone between my palms and tip my head slightly to the side. Mopey? Did my words really convey the “mopey” feeling? I scroll quickly, reread a few lines, and snort to myself again. He was hearing what he wanted to hear. Definitely.

“Eh,” I type by way of response while shrugging my shoulders in the same moment. “I've just got a lot going on right now. Not really mopey. Just tired.”

“Are you sure? You didn't backslide while I was gone, did you? Or, maybe you got your feelings hurt because I was out of touch for so long?”

I clench my jaw and allow the phone to slip from my hands and land on the cushion next to me. He had some amount of nerve saying those words to me. Get my feelings hurt? Of course I got my feelings hurt! I didn't know if he was alive or wrapped around a tree! What if he fell between the cracks in an earthquake or a steel beam fell from one of the buildings he was working on and impaled him?! I wouldn't even know!!

Rubbing my hands up and down my face, I sigh and attempt to push past the violent emotion that swirls unbidden in my chest. I have half a mind to call him, to tell him how much his lack of communication really pissed me off, but it's late and I don't want to end the night on a sour note. So, instead, I close my eyes and count backward from ten.

...I'm feeling marginally better by the time I hit two.

“Just got a lot on my brain,” I type back to him, the words leaking from my fingers slowly. I wonder how much I should tell him. Does he really care about what's going on here, with me and my job, or is this just filler to take up the time between now and whenever he finally lays down to sleep? Maybe keeping it lighter is the better idea.

“No backsliding,” I type after a pause. “No one to backslide with.” And I end the sentence with an smiley face sticking their tongue out at the viewer.

And...he doesn't reply. Not immediately.

I've gone through my purse, taken out receipts and change and even put on pajamas before I find myself back at my couch, phone in hand, a new message waiting to be read.

“For future reference,” he says, “if you're trying to make yourself sound extra good to your Sir, saying a shortage of playmates is why you haven't been bad isn't the best angle to take...”

...I hate that he can read between the lines. I hate that he can pick up my subtext without even trying. I hate that sometimes it feels like he knows me better than I know myself. I hate playing catch-up with him and he's always

in the lead, never giving me an ounce of room to make a single mistake. And, most of all, I hate that I like it so...fucking...much.

I clear my throat, willing the cocktail of embarrassment and arousal to subside before I attempt to reply to him.

“That wasn't my intention,” I type, but I don't get far before I'm erasing the sentence. He would know if I'm lying.

There is no excuse that I can give him, no explanation that would sound good either from my tongue or my fingers. There's only the truth and I am laid bare because of it. He was right when he mentioned that I was in my feelings about him being gone. I was. I am.

I am not a creature that enjoys being alone.

I'm still floundering with what to type to him, how to salvage this situation, when the phone dings in my hands. My gaze is drawn to the screen and his words.

“I'll let you know when I pull in. Dunno if it'll be tonight or tomorrow. But I'll keep you informed.”

“Okay,” I quickly type back. “Thanks. I'll see you when you get here.”

“You will.”

Against all better judgment, I allow myself to hope.