#does anybody know geography

[torifuckingspring]

you know when those circles under your eyes turn from gray to black to purple to purple with additional lines and shit

like climbing the sleep deprivation ladder

[motherjoel]

arms tonite (joel miller/reader)

summary: basically its YOU who gets stabbed by the baseball bat. joel isnt good with feelings. david does not exist david cant hurt anybody. a bit of angst and a bit of fluff. also LOOSELY based on arms tonite by mother mother

a/n: yawlllllll it has been a MINUTE but i am back for some tlou cause i just really wanted to write for these characters i love so very much. i apologize if the timing of their travel is fucked, i truly have no concept of geography so we can ignore that.

wc: 3.5k

warnings: just general tlou gore, nothin too bad

-

-

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Joel Miller. But as you lay here, Joel's hands soaked in your blood as he attempted to stop it from pulsating out of your abdomen, you knew it was love that you were feeling. It was supposed to be simple. After your brief stay in Jackson, the two of you were supposed to take Ellie to the fireflies. Yet, nothing seemed to be simple these days, especially not around this girl.

In the amount of time the three of you had spent together, you developed an unbreakable bond. Ellie became a sort of surrogate sister to you- you’d lost your family when you were just a kid during the outbreak and you never had the chance to become a big sister. At least not for long. And then there was Joel. You weren’t quite sure what he meant to you yet, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t die for him. For both of them, really- a life without them wasn’t worth living. Of course, you never planned on telling them that.

The day started fairly nice- with Joel allowing Ellie to make her own decision about who would be taking her to the fireflies. Sure, you and Ellie would be fine with Tommy, but Joel had failed to consider the bond the three of you shared when making this decision. He was thinking of only himself and his fear- this is what you had told him last night after his fight with Ellie.

“What the hell was that?” you asked him after he stormed out of Ellie’s temporary room. 

“It was nothin’. Doesn’t concern you,” he replied, brushing past you as he made his way to the couch where he decided to set up camp for the night. 

“Um, it sure as hell does concern me, Joel. Are you seriously going to abandon us? After everything we’ve been through, after how much that girl trusts you, Joel!” you raised your voice a bit, trying to keep yourself from alerting Ellie upstairs. Those words stung him a bit. He didn’t see it as abandonment- he saw it as protection. After everything you went through together, he never once put himself first.

“She doesn’t know a thing about what this means,” Joel turned to you. “She- she’s just a kid, she-” he stopped himself, trying to gather himself. “I can’t bring her. I’m not capable, I’m slowin’ down and I just can’t. Do. It,” he exhaled, dropping himself onto the couch. 

“Wow,” you replied, softly sitting next to him. “You’re really underestimating yourself,” you sighed, Joel, lifting his face to look at you. “I mean, not only yourself but me, Joel. In case you’d forgotten, I’ve gotten myself through some tough shit. And Ellie? Man, she's the toughest kid I’ve ever met. Hell, she's one of the toughest people I’ve ever met,” you said, observing Joel’s worn face. “I mean… don't you think she at least deserves a choice?” you asked, hoping to convince Joel to come to his senses and realize who he was.

“I’ll take the couch. Bedrooms down the hall,” he grumbled before turning his back to you and lying down. There was nothing left you could say at this point, so you decided to spare yourself and make your way to the bedroom. The bed was pretty big. It could’ve fit two people.

The moment you saw Joel in the stables the next morning, you could feel your heart soar. Before he said a word, you knew he had made the right decision. The three of you squeezed onto the horse, Ellie sandwiched in the middle, and you were off. You and Joel sat in peaceful silence for a while, occasionally responding to Ellie’s rambling to show you were listening. Before you knew it, you were arriving at the so-called firefly base. 

“What the fu-” you started.

“Holy shit! Are those monkeys?” Ellie exclaimed, pointing at the crowd of animals before you.

“Must be from the old labs,” Joel muttered, a hint of interest in his voice

“Look at them go!” you giggled.

“First time seein’ a monkey?” Joel asked the two of you. 

“First time seein' a monkey,” you replied in unison, both awestruck. A smile crept onto Joel's face at this- the togetherness he felt in rare moments like this is what kept him going. 

You soon came across the fireflies symbol painted on a couple of signs, but no guards appeared nearby. You all dismounted the horse before making your way inside, guns drawn. You in the back, Joel in the front, and Ellie sandwiched between yet again. The building you came across was abandoned from the looks of it, with papers scattered about. 

“They just left,” Joel said, coming across a packing list among the scattered supplies. You suddenly heard a clang from another room, drawing your attention.

“Maybe not all of them,” you replied as the three of you carefully moved towards the sound. Your heart picked up its pace- whatever was in that room couldn’t be a firefly. Maybe a raider, you thought, which didn’t help your anxieties. Joel put a finger to his lips before opening the door, signaling for your silence. Relief rushed through you as you saw the source of the noise was just a few stray monkeys. It was only moments later that you heard voices- voices that certainly didn’t come from an animal. Peering out the window, the three of you saw a group of men, presumably raiders.

“Shit,” you murmured, instinctively grabbing Ellie’s arm.

“Out the back,” said Joel, leading the way for the three of you to make your escape. You ducked behind some sandbags for a moment before making your break to the horse. As Joel untied the horse, you heard footsteps quickly making their way over to you.

“Joel!” Ellie screamed as the man swung his bat at his head, hitting it on a tree and breaking it in two. While Joel dodged his attack you jumped on the man and banged him into the tree behind him before he knocked you back on your ass, banging your head on the ground. You’ve had your fair share of concussions, and you knew that's exactly what just happened to you. Joel quickly recovered from the first attack before grabbing the man, a wave of anger in his eyes as you’ve never seen before. His arm tightened around the man's throat, unrelenting in its strength. Struggle as he may, it wasn’t long before his neck was snapped. You remain on the ground, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you look at Ellie, shakily holding her gun. Her eyes darken as they shift down to your stomach. Your eyes follow hers and you finally see what she’s looking at. When the man hit the bat into the tree, it must've snapped in half. One half was on the ground a few feet away from you, while, unfortunately, the other half was buried in your stomach.

“Shit,” Ellie said, lowering her gun and walking over to you. Your hand reached down, adrenaline still pumping through your body, and you instinctively pulled the wooden piece out of your abdomen. You barely even felt it. Joel was silent the entire time, and you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. You threw it aside before noticing three more men coming your way. As fast as possible, Joel hiked himself up onto the horse and grabbed you while Ellie pushed from the ground before pulling herself up, you now sitting between the two. Joel didn’t let himself focus on the anxiety in his chest that blurred his vision- he needed to get you both to safety.

“Fuck,” you sighed, adrenaline wearing off a bit and pain seeping in. 

“Go!” Ellie yelled to Joel as you began to move. She grabbed her gun and shot backward at the men- she didn’t have the best aim, but it certainly deterred them from advancing anymore. Ellie kept peering over her shoulder, on high alert. If you weren’t putting all of your focus on staying conscious, you’d have noticed her slight tremble. You would have noticed Joel's body tense when your breathing slowed, his occasional glance over his shoulder. His erratic heartbeat as he tried to keep you talking.

“We’re gonna get back to Jackson and we’re gonna get some help,” Joel said over his shoulder. There wasn’t a hint of emotion in his voice- he was excellent at hiding how he truly feels. 

“No,” you uttered, using all of your strength.

“Sorry, no?” Joel questioned.

“Get her to the fireflies,” you whispered before your vision began to blur. Your lifeless body crumpled off the horse, Ellie attempted to hold on but it all happened too fast. The cold snow was stained red, the warm blood leaving your body melting the snow directly beneath you. Joel and Ellie quickly hopped down, one on each side of you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ellie panicked, hands shakily reaching towards your abdomen. 

“Ellie,” Joel said, voice laced with panic. He motioned for her to grab his pack while he placed his hands onto the wound, blood seeping through the gaps in his fingers. He had never felt so helpless in his life- at least, not since Sarah. That same shuddered breathing coming from a person he loves- he couldn’t bear it.

“Joel, what the fuck do we do,” she asked. Joel continued to silently work on packing your wound with an extra flannel he had in his bag.

“It’s ok,” you croaked. They immediately turned to you on the ground, almost stopping in their tracks. “Just help me to that house,” you said, motioning towards a house about 50 yards away. You were struggling to breathe under the pressure of Joel’s hands on your wound- it almost seemed useless, you were still losing blood like crazy. Joel tied the flannel around your waist to try to keep the blood from seeping out. Once he decided you were situated, he picked you up bridal style and led you to the house. When you arrived, they gently placed you at the entrance, Ellie staying with you while Joel made sure the house was clear. He returned to help you inside, lying you on an old mattress. You let out a small laugh as you got situated.

“What?” Joel asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. How could you be laughing right now?

“Don’tcha think it's kinda cute?” you asked as he fussed with your bandages.

“What’s that?” he asked gruffly, not exactly in the mood for your attitude.

“Oh, just that I might be dying in your arms tonight. I dunno, feels like a movie,” you said, your pale lips curling into a smile. He gave you a look, pausing briefly to peer into your eyes. You wordlessly pleaded with him to lighten the mood a bit, for Ellie’s sake. He didn't say a word.

“Joel, what the fuck do we do?” Ellie repeated herself in her panic.

“It’s ok. You guys go. Now,” you said. Joel's eyebrows furrowed at this. “You leave, go north. Go to Tommy.”

“Um, the fuck?” Ellie asked. “I don’t know what you think this is but we're not leaving,” Ellie said, frustration creeping into her voice. She looked hurt by this, and it broke your heart. Were you doing the same thing Joel had done just last night?

“The kids right,” Joel said as you turned to look at him. “You’re either comin' with us or we're all campin’ here for the night. No in-between” Joel finished. You pleaded to him with your eyes again, begging him to just give up on you. The two of them would be fine, you knew it. But you didn’t know the emotional toll it would have taken on the stubborn man in front of you. He was stubborn, but so were you. Only you didn’t get a chance to prove just how stubborn you could be before you couldn’t fight the darkness that crept into your vision. 

-

You woke with a start the next morning. You often woke in a panic these days, but the feeling was only further cemented when you realized you didn’t quite recognize your surroundings. The only thing you could recognize was Joel’s eyes on you, which brought you some semblance of comfort. When he noticed you awake, he rushed to your side. As much as you could imagine Joel to “rush.”

“Hey, you uh, awake. You’re awake,” he said softly, trying not to wake Ellie asleep in the corner of the same dilapidated room you’d been in for a while now. 

“It would appear so,” you replied, attempting to sit up a bit.

“Hey, hey, relax,” he put his hand on your shoulder, urging you to lay back down. “Your infections bad. We managed to trade for some penicillin but it's not gonna be enough. We gotta figure out how to get you back to Jackson,” Joel said, lightly lifting your shirt to look at the wound.

 You cursed the heat rising to your face as Joel's fingers brushed your bare skin. You’d never been intimate like this before, though this was barely intimacy. He hadn’t ever touched your skin like this- with such delicacy. You were fragile to him at this moment, and you needed to be handled with care. You hated being a burden, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice to be taken care of for once.

You were too busy focusing on your own reaction to this gesture to notice Joels. His hands shook as he cared for your wound, wincing as he saw that it really wasn’t getting any better. He didn’t know what this meant- he wasn’t a doctor by any means, but he knew this wasn’t good. 

You were in and out of sleep throughout the next day or two, letting the dull, throbbing pain lull you into sleep. It hurt to watch Joel and Ellie worry about you, especially because there was nothing you could do to help. Your days felt numbered- the amount of penicillin was scarce and you weren’t feeling any better. You barely had the strength to keep your eyes open, much less speak. 

“Joel,” you managed to croak- you couldn’t even spare the energy to seethe at the pain pulsating throughout your body.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replied, kneeling next to you. He only called you sweetheart when he needed something- what did he need from you now? To live? “Whatcha need?”

“You’re special, you know that?” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“And why is that?” he asked, wiping the tear.

“You really know how to make a girl fall in love,” you smiled- this isn’t something you ever planned on telling him, but as you lie there, vision blurring around the edges as the darkness caved in on you, there was nothing else you wanted to say.

Joel felt panic consume him when your eyes closed.

“Hey, hey darlin’, wake up for me, okay?” he pleaded. Ellie stalked over, panic heating her chest. “Ellie, grab her legs,” Joel said. It was like he was kicked into a new gear- he was going to do whatever it took to keep you with him.

-

You didn’t know where you were. The walls were unfamiliar and white- stark and sterile. The first thing you noticed was the couch in the corner of the room, occupied by your two favorite people. Joel sat upright, arms crossed and eyes closed. His brows were furrowed like he was having some sort of nightmare. Ellie’s expression mirrored his, as she lay on her side with her head resting on his leg, arms curled into her chest. Your heart warmed at the sight- he was becoming a father figure to her, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. You tried to sit up, failing immediately as pain shot through your body. You winced, perhaps a little too loud, as Joel’s eyes shot open. Ellie remained in a deep sleep on his lap.

“You’re up,” he acknowledged, almost like it was too good to be true. He carefully shifted his body so he could move Ellie from his lap and onto the couch before he stood to walk towards you. “She hasn’t gotten much sleep, be best not to wake her,” he said, leaning down to brush a hair from her face. Seeing him be this gentle with her melted your heart. 

“How, um, how long was I out?” you asked, lifting the sheets to see your wound. It was covered and clean, but you knew it was there from the way it throbbed.

“About a week. Scared the shit out of… the kid,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. He bit back what he truly wanted to say- you scared the shit out of him. But he wasn’t going to admit that you had that much of an impact on him. The second he lets others affect his life is the second he gets weak. There wasn’t a place for vulnerability in this world. “It was, a, uh, miracle that you lived.”

“Oh yeah?” your eyebrows raised. “Shit. I’m sorry for worrying… her,” you glanced at Ellie again as she snuggled into the couch. “How did I, um how did you guys get me here?” you asked. Your voice was hoarse from lack of use, but you tried to remain strong.

“We, uh, we gotcha back on the horse. Ellie led the way, I made sure you were safe, I mean, I just made sure you didn’t fall,” he replied, looking at his feet. “Took us awhile to get back, I… I didn't think you were gonna make it,” he replied, coughing to cover up the break in his voice. He was still in disbelief that you even woke up.

“Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me,” you laughed weakly. Then it was silent for a few moments, the two of you stewing in your thoughts. “You know, I think if it had been anybody else with me, I would’ve just died,” you remarked. Joel shook his head.

“Well, that’s not true. You’re strong” he said quietly.

“Well, yeah, sure I’m strong. But I can choose not to be. I honestly would’ve been fine to die if it was in your arms. But I couldn’t do that to you. Not… not again,” you paused, gathering your thoughts. “It’s just… you’re it for me, Joel. You and Ellie- you guys are it. And if I can’t have you guys, well, let's just say I wouldn’t mind staying asleep,” you confessed, avoiding eye contact.

“Ahem…” you heard Ellie clear her throat from her position on the couch. “Sorry, I have a habit of snooping, but holy shit you’re awake!” she squealed, bouncing over to you and plopping herself onto you in a hug. She knocked the wind out of you, and you may have cared if you weren’t so happy to see her.

“Hey, hey, easy on her now,” Joel said, pulling Ellie back from you a bit. He was still quiet, processing what you had just said to him.

“Ahhh, my sweet Ellie girl, how I missed you so,” you smiled, pinching her cheeks.

“Bullshit, you were definitely just dreaming about Joel the whole time. Must’ve been nice, sleeping that long,” she laughed. You ignore the first part of her sentence.

“Yeah, I guess I’m pretty well rested,” you smiled, ruffling her hair and pulling her into another hug.

“I’m gonna go get someone, a nurse,” Ellie excused herself from the room, leaving you with Joel yet again.

“I’m sorry if that was too mu-” you started before Joel cut you off.

“No, no, don’t apologize, sweetheart,” he said softly. It wasn’t a whisper- it was just soft. He’d been so soft with you. “I… I can’t say I don’t feel the same,” he looked down at his shoes.

“Oh, uh, you do?” you blushed. You felt so childish, like you were admitting you had a crush on him, but it was more than that. It was a partnership, a dependency- a loyalty to one another that didn’t need a label. Only, you couldn’t hide the way you felt anymore.

“Gosh, I can’t even tell you how it felt to see you like that. It should’ve been me, you know,” he said, disappointment evident on his features.

“Um, no, it shouldn’t have. Besides, how would we have gotten your big ass back to Jackson?” you giggled, grabbing his hand. His expression changed then as he looked down at your intertwined hands. “Joel, what does this mean?” you asked.

He chose not to respond with words- they were never his strong suit. Without a word, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. It was soft and it was sweet and it was like nothing you had ever experienced before- not from someone you loved. You reciprocated, weaving a hand into his hair to pull him closer.

“Yeah, they’re just in here-woahhhhhhh!” Ellie yelled, giggling and running out of the room. Joel quickly pulled back and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“That little shit,” he sighed.

“Well, she was gonna have to find out somehow,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckles.

[sunboki]

— TEASER

You and Han Jisung are the ultimate best friends. While he’s busy nerding away, you’re filling him in on the latest and greatest drama. That’s until he brings up crushes. And I mean, what’re you supposed to say when he asks you that? It’s not like Jisung’s your crush… right?

📓 » Han Jisung x f. reader

GENRE┊non idol au, friends to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers, two idiots being oblivious, fake relationship au, highschool au, angst, fluff, slowburn

WORD COUNT┊estimated to be around 5k-6k words

WARNINGS┊profanity, lack of communication, childish pettiness, stupidity at insane levels

AUG’S NOTES┊if you don’t have a date this valentines, just know we’re both in the same boat ☹️ hopefully some hanji will help!!

THE BOYFRIEND STATUS TAGLIST — OPEN

The first night of your downfall all started in mid-January.

All was well and had been going well, until it wasn’t.

You’ve known Han Jisung since second grade, starting with having to apologize for knocking over his castle and him proceeding to cry even louder in the sandbox, snotty in his red and white striped shirt.

You swear that shirt is still in his closet.

And when he was wimping away in a corner, you were the one that got him out of his shell. To this day you’re convinced you’re the first person to ever witness the true Han Jisung, who starts slapping things when he laughs really hard, who gets overly competitive during board games, who keeps hundreds of mind-blowing tracks he’s produced to himself, and who (you wouldn’t admit it) has one of the prettiest smiles in the world.

Freshman year of high school you met Jisung again in your Geography class.

Initially, it took you a moment to recognize his face, having changed quite a bit over the years. And certainly not a bad kind of change. Although, his nerdy personality was all the assurance you needed to figure out it was him, apart from that he switched to contacts, grew his hair out more, and looked, y’know, “older.”

Older as in: what happened to you? ..Why are you so attractive?

But you won’t get too far into that.

Through the years he tutored you. Jisung had a knack for studying since day one, and despite occasionally looking like he could pass as a dropout (usually the week before finals), no one else could maintain better grades than him.

So, on a night both you and Jisung were slouched over your desk, procrastinating school work by rating people at school from most to least kissable, he turns to you, face halfway illuminated by your lamp.

“Do you like anyone?” Your boba-eyed friend asks while you aimlessly scroll through your camera roll in search of the photo you’d been talking about, mumbling a quiet “of course” in response.

Jisung makes an unconvinced noise and clasps his hands together, leaning forward.

“No like, like like anybody.”

Finally escaping your ‘rating people’s kissing-capabilities’ headspace and now entering into your ‘is this the question i think it is?’ one, you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

It’s a strange question, not a Jisung-question, and you find yourself growing increasingly nervous the longer he stares at you.

You’ve never even thought about it really, so why are you so sweaty? Why does your heart feel as if it may just beat out of your chest, why is your mouth so dry?

Questions.

Clearing your throat and secretly praying it didn’t give away your piling anxiety, you feign a roll of your eyes, tapping your fingernail on the cool desk.

God, why are you so nervous?

“Um, nobody, why?” You retort, ignoring the scrutinizing squint of his eyes watching you.

It’s never like this. You’re the one that teases, gets him all shy, stumbling over his words. So now you suddenly feel like Jerry and he’s Tom.

Abnormal.

“C’mon, there has to be someone you think is cute,” He whines, and before you can stop it one word smacks you upside the head.

You.

“It’s Minho!” You shout, hurried and barely audible as if trying to tune out your inner panic.

Han looks stunned.

Han as in best friend, not crush. Right.

What were you thinking?

“..Min.. Minho?” He phrases slowly, evidently surprised.

Being completely honest, you’re just as surprised as he is. Minho is attractive, sure, but never in your life did you consider him like that.

Oh how you wished you could erase all of this from ever happening.

It doesn’t make sense. Because it’s not like you’re into Jisung. Or are you?

Nope. Nuh-uh. You were just caught off guard and unprepared. Not to mention it was an unexpected question, that’s all.

Fuck.

You like Jisung. There’s no point of lying to yourself anymore. From the start of seeing him again, those “friendly” gestures weren’t friendly anymore, they were intentional, pursuing. Walking from class to class together, constantly checking your texts, meeting his eyes only to smile like fools.

“Yep. Minho. That’s the guy,” Cutting each sentence shorter than the last, you nod fervently, avoiding his gaze.

Both soaking in utterly hellish silence, the tension was likely seeping through the cracks in your door at this rate.

He really shouldn’t have ever brought this up, and you shouldn’t have said Minho. So on the bright side, at least you’re both at fault here in the grand scheme of things.

“..Alright then.” He shrugs and goes back to writing down notes, ignoring how the room feels a hundred degrees hotter and that every inch of your soul is drenched in a cold sweat, plagued with the situation you landed yourself in.

What has gotten into you?

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[deadqueerboys]

Okay, so.. the Wine Stream just ended, and I have thoughts!!!

Wilbur Soot x Reader (headcanons sfw/nsfw)

First time writing for Wilbur, I have no idea if he allows it or not.

I have the conscience that I'm gross for that. You have no idea of how ashamed I'm.. but horny thoughts are horny thoughts!!

No gender specific, I'm more used to writing for male/gender neutral reader.

NO MINORS HERE!!!

I'm the king of starting a thing and not finishing it! You gonna see this a lot on this one, i don't know why i am like this. If you want me to keep going with those, just ask me. Also, I'm accepting requests again! For Quackity, Wilbur, Slimecicle, and who whatever you guys want!

Does anybody really read that? I know you want to scroll until the nsfw part.

Sfw - because I'm a nice person.

I can only imagine this guy coming home from a fly or spending time with friends and needing to see you.

He loves to be close to you. Especially touching you in a soft way, like holding hands, petting your hair, or just letting his hand for you to play with it. (I'm autistic, I swear i can spend hours just playing with somebody's else hand, moving the fingers up and down, like a child).

Wilbur is always kind, and he might or not get worried when you call him William.

It was almost 1am, Wilbur spent more than two hours just seeing some videos and also trying to get an inspiration for a new song. You were worried. You've always been, but he insisted that it was just his work.

"Hey, love, uhm.. I'm going to sleep if that's okay for you.." You say with a tired and weak smile, trying to be positive.

Wilbur didn't heard, he never did when he had headphones on. You got closer to his chair, taking his headphones.

"Ugh! William, I'm going to sleep, okay? Don't make any loud noise." You said before rolling your eyes.

Something just happened. Wilbur's mind just stopped. He got up, and in a question of second, he was already in front of you. Always with those puppy eyes, like if he did something wrong.

"What did you just call me?" He asked, his voice sounding like a lost child: kind but scared.

Loves to talk with you about anything and everything, geography in special. He had some other hyperfocus, but that one hits hard!

Need stimulation, like playing with fidget toys like a spiner and those kinda of things, but loves when his partner notices it. Imagine backing home from a day of work or studying and he just hugs you and ask how was your day, after a long conversation, which he was looking kinda upset, you give him one of those colorful toys who shine and you have to touch all of the buttons who are lighting. Oh my God, he's so happy! He plays with it all the time. And he always makes sure to remember that his partner gave him this.

Clingy, but not in a weird way. A sweet way. Soft hugs, kisses on the cheek, arms around of you in public, and anything he feels like doing.

He has so many ways of expressing himself for you! He can sing, write, read, talk, give you gifts, literally everything!

He has such a sweet smell, he never smells bad!

Loves to give you comfort. If it's a cold night, you can sleep with the sure that in the moment that you woke up, you'll have socks on your feet and one more blanket than you slept with. As you slowly woke up, he's sleeping with his messy hair all over his face, it's an adorable image!!

(It might be kinda amab at this part, but..) Come on, give him some of your clothes, you know he looks perfect on it!

Now nsfw - because I act like a slut even being asexual.

MORNING SEX!! He's all messy, but now he's holding your waist from behind, rolling his body against yours. You don't even notice it, and then you feel a hard thing touching your leg, which makes you almost jump. In fact, you couldn't, because his hold was too strong.

"Mhm.. babe, wake up.." You whispered, trying to look in any direction as you couldn't move your neck for look behind you, where he was.

"I'm already awake.. it's been a while, actually." Wilbur smirked. Now that he knows you're awake, his plans will turn into actions. "Tell me.. did you miss me, huh? Did you miss it..?" His voice is teasing. He knows that. He started to kiss your neck while putting you closer to him, if that was possible.

Now, think with me, he's all tired and he wanted to bad to be kind with you, but today was passing him off! The make-out season just started to be more aggressive. His body is taking all the control over you. And you almost can't breathe. Even though he seems like not caring for it.

"W-wil.." You asked, taking the breath you could before he keeps kissing you aggressively.

"Yes, honey? Do you want something?" He asks, that dirty smile on his face was just there for arouse you. Wilbur looked at you before starting to kiss and suck your neck. "You're so pretty.."

He kept talking while you started to grab his hair. As you moaned. You felt him getting harder.

Loves compliments you while having sex.

He's a totally bitch when we are talking about hickeys, Wilbur loves to give you them, all the time, you're his propriety, why wouldn't he like that?

He also loves it when you give him marks, scratching your nails on his back and in his chest, biting him in anywhere, but sometimes he might ask you to be careful, he doesn't want so many attention for it when he's making an concert.

Hates public sex, but lives for public teasing! Hands on your thighs, slowly going up.. when you look at him, he acts as if he isn't doing anything.

(For M! Reader or just amab, i'm sorry):

He would totally sit on your lap on public! He's moving and slowly going up and down while he still keeps having a normal talk with other people. When he finally feels he got you, that he turned you on as much as possible, he get up and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"What? You weren't thinking about this now, right? Babe.. we're in public.." Wilbur plays innocent, giving you his hodie so you can cover your erection.

You know what he wants, everybody knows what he wants!

Oh, please, moan his name! That's the only moment he would love hearing you call him as William. (Will still better to moan, in my opinion).

Such a perv with a smile on his face! You know what he's doing. He does it for fun.

So, this scenario didn't get out of my head for a while.. it's personal, I think. Also, it's really gross and maybe too kinky. Maybe I could call this one as "Playing Alone". Enjoy it if you want:

You spend all the day out, and by the text, something was obviously wrong with Wilbur. He said he was only playing guitar, and as a gentleman, he asked if he could take your guitar to try a new thing. You said yes, there was no reason to say no. But, the feeling that had something happening just couldn't get out of your mind. As you go home, you go upstairs. As you're getting closer to your room, you can hear his soft moans. Oh, that little bitch, he couldn't even wait until you got home?

"Wilbur? Babe, are you there?" What a dumb question. You knew he was there! Still, you asked because, depending on his reaction, the things you are doing with him later might change.

"Yes.. yes.. uh.. that's not a good moment!" He says he was desperate. You felt that. You started to hear him moving and fast, running around the room, maybe hiding something. Then, he opens the door with a big smile and his clothes all messy and crumpled. "Hi love.."

You took a long saw of the room, nothing was out of place.. except that your guitar wasn't there. "Uhm.. babe? Where's my guitar?"

"Your guitar?" He seemed more nervous as he looked at all the places except in your eyes. "Oh, I broke it. I.. it fell on the floor.. and I.."

"YOU WHAT?!" You screamed, an angry tone on your voice. He couldn't have done that.. he wouldn't even dare think about that!

"Okay.. alright, calm down! I didn't break it... you know.. all of your clothes have my smell now.. I was needy, and I tried to distract myself by playing with your guitar.." He started to explain himself, blushing as hell, making fast moves with his hands. "It weirdly had you smell in it because you said you always let a paper with your perfume inside of it.. I started to play it, just some normal melody, and.. when I noticed my mind were already out."

"What do you mean with out? I know you jerk off, but.. oh God... no! No! No!" You shake your had while denied it. "No, you didn't!"

"I'm.. I'm sorry, okay?" Wilbur stuttered nervously.

"Just show me it! How bad was it..?"

Wilbur walked inside the room and took the guitar out of the closet, where he had put her before. The guitar has cum over all of it. Probably not inside, so it wasn't a big problem, but it still looks sticky and milky. Between all of the emotions.. horny was the one who provided.

"Oh.. babe, you were missing me, huh?" You asked, a smirk on your face, grabbing his chin, making he look at you..

As I said, I like to don't finish some projects, let some other people imagination be free. If you continue it, make sure to let me see it, I'm anxious.

[winterlogysblog]

4KOTA HIGHSCHOOL AU

Liones University

Founder - Bartra Liones President - Meliodas Vice President - Gilthunder Prefect of Disipline - Dreyfus School Doctor - Hendrickson Middle School Principal - Guila Highschool Principal - Howzer Drama Teacher - Gowther PE and Science Teacher - Derieri PE Teacher - Griamore

Known Groups (Past):

The Seven Deadly Sins - Delinquent Gang led by Meliodas (yes, the president of the school) Members: Meliodas - Former Leader of The Ten Commandments; President of Liones University Ban - Owner of Fox's Sin (Bar & Resto) Escanor - Veteran Soldier Harlequin - Alias: King; Fashion and Costume Designer; Owner of Chastiefol (Fashion Clothing Brand) Diane - Former Ballerina; Model for Chastiefol Gowther - Drama Teacher of Liones University; Producer and Owner of Nadja Theater Merlin - Former Vice President of Camelot Academy

The Ten Commandments - Delinquent Gang led by Zeldris Members: Zeldris - Owner of Underworld Corp. Mael - Former Member of The Four Archangels Derieri - PE and Science Teacher of Liones Academy Monspeet - In the US Gloxinia - In France Drole - Also in France Melascula - Professor at Camelot University Galland - Professor at Camelot University Grayroad - <No information found> Fraudrin - <No information found>

The Four Archangels - Student Council Group Members: Ludociel - President Mael - Former Vice President turned member of the Ten Commandments Sariel - Secretary Tarmiel - Comittee Chairman

Known Groups (Present):

The Four Knights of the Apocalypse - just a gaggle of individuals Members: Lancelot - Captain of the Basketball Team; Models for Chastiefol in his free time (either he gets paid or he gets free stuff); Straight A Student (he doesn't even try); Subject of expertise - Math Percival - The most innocent bean known around Campus; Subject of Expertise - Foreign Language (doesn't know why he's good at it) Gawain - Former Camelot University Student; Captain of the Women's Volleyball team; Straight A Student; Self proclaimed chick magnet; Subject of Expertise - Science Tristan - Student Council President; Straight A Student (you're doing great sweetie); Subject of Expertise - Science and History

Percival Platoon - 4kota sub-group led by Percival Members: Anne - President of Fencing Club; Straight A Student; Subject of Expertise - English Donny - Varsity Basketball Player; Subject of Expertise - PE Nasiens - Hendrickson's assistant; Models for Chastiefol in his free time (automatic free stuff); has an obvious crush on Percy; Straight A Student; Subject of Expertise - Science and Geography

Tristan Platoon - 4kota sub-group led by Tristan Members: Isolde - Cheer Captain; has an obvious crush on Tristan; Subject of Expertise - Art and Design Chion - Campus A-hole; Does not care about anybody except for Tristan (Isolde and Jade too but mainly Tristan); Subject of Expertise - Science and History Jade - The tolerable one; has an obvious crush on Isolde; Subject of Expertise - Geography

Lancelot Platoon - 4kota sub-group led by Lancelot Members: Sixtus - Foreign Exchange Student (currently in France staying with Uncle Glox and Drole); Subject of Expertise - History (really good at memorizing specific dates) Tioreh - Member of the Gymnastics Club; Subject of Expertise - Arts and Design

[aethernoise]

get to know you tag!

Last Song: A New Hope (Ul'dah daytime theme)

Currently Reading: I have a bunch of tabs open with Blender weight paint tutorials, does that count

Currently watching: I just started Rainn Wilson's Geography of Bliss

Current Obsession: learning to take ingame assets apart and do fun stuff with them! Doing some porting hairstyles to other races but also trying a mashup or two (though none of them are good enough to use yet because I have to learn how to add weights back to hair, RIP) and also Blue Mage LOL

Tagged by: @fadeddreamssart

I don't want to tag anybody because I'm a weenie so consider this an "open tag" situation - feel free to use me as an excuse to share some fun facts.

[daimonclub]

Quotes and aphorisms on food

Quotes on food Quotes and aphorisms on food by various and famous authors and writers, ideas and thoughts to a well balanced diet and food philosophy to eat and live better. I will not eat oysters. I want my food dead - not sick, not wounded - dead. Woody Allen We live in an age when pizza gets to your home before the police. Jeff Arder A gourmet who thinks of calories is like a tart, who looks at her watch. James Beard Unbought feasts.  (Lat., Dapes inemptae.) Latin Proverb An anonymous man from the 16th century always used to say: "There are many important things in life, the first is eating, I don't know the others." Carl William Brown Hunger is a good cook. Author Unknown Tomatoes and oregano make it Italian; wine and tarragon make it French. Sour cream makes it Russian; lemon and cinnamon make it Greek. Soy sauce makes it Chinese; garlic makes it good. Alice May Brock Eating is touch carried to the bitter end. Samuel Butler One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well. Virginia Woolf I would like to find a stew that will give me heartburn immediately, instead of at three o clock in the morning. John Barrymore Only the pure in heart can make a good soup. Ludwig Van Beethoven

Aphorisms on food Yogi ordered a pizza. The waitress asked How many pieces do you want your pie cut? Yogi responded, Four. I don't think I could eat eight. Yogi Berra Edible. Good to eat and wholesome to digest, as a worm to a toad, a toad to a snake, a snake to a pig, a pig to a man, and a man to a worm. Ambrose Bierce The discovery of a new dish does more for human happiness than the discovery of a new star. Anthelme Brillat-Savarin I do not like broccoli. And I haven't liked it since I was a little kid, and my mother made me eat it. I am President of the United States, and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli. George H. Bush The healthy stomach is nothing if it is not conservative. Few radicals have good digestions. Samuel Butler I am not a vegetarian because I love animals; I am a vegetarian because I hate plants. A. Whitney Brown What most moved him was a certain meal on beans. Robert Browning I just hate health food. Julia Child Life is too short to stuff a mushroom. Shirley Conran Anybody who believes that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach flunked geography. Robert Byrne A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands. Lord Byron The right diet directs sexual energy into the parts that matter. Barbara Cartland

Aphorisms and quotes on food It is a difficult matter to argue with the belly since it has no ears. Cato The Elder For its merit I will knight it, and then it will be Sir-Loin. Charles II Thou shouldst eat to live; not live to eat. Marcus T. Cicero Although there is a great deal of controversy among scientists about the effects of ingested food on the brain, no one denies that you can change your cognition and mood by what you eat. Arthur Winter Food = joy ... guilt ... anger ... pain ... nurturing ... friendship ... hatred ... the way you look and feel.... Food = everything you can imagine. Susan Powter Bread that must be sliced with an axe is bread that is too nourishing. Fran Lebowitz Food is an important part of a balanced diet. Fran Lebowitz Inhabitants of underdeveloped nations and victims of natural disasters are the only people who have ever been happy to see soy beans. Fran Lebowitz More die in the United States of too much food than of too little. John Kenneth Galbraith Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly. M.F.K. Fisher Food was always a conduit in our family for storytelling, and it was a way for us to keep in touch and remember things. We're people that use food to keep each other together and to always cheer us up and make all of our days better. Rachel ray My favorite food city is wherever I happen to be eating. You know what they say, love the one you’re with! Pamela Anderson A crust eaten in peace is better than a banquet partaken in anxiety. Aesop The soup is never hot enough if the waiter can keep his thumb in it. William Collier The one way to get thin is to re-establish a purpose in life. Cyril Connolly

Salami Italian typical food To eat is human, to digest divine. Charles T. Copeland Square meals often make round people. Joseph E. Cossman I found there was only one way to look thin: hang out with fat people. Rodney Dangerfield Let the stoics say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen. Ralph Waldo Emerson When a man's stomach is full it makes no difference whether he is rich or poor. Euripides Cheese is milk's leap toward immortality. Cliff Fadiman Roast Beef, medium, is not only a food. It is a philosophy. Seated at Life's Dining Table, with the menu of Morals before you, your eye wanders a bit over the entrees, the hors d'oeuvres, and the things a la though you know that Roast Beef, medium, is safe and sane, and sure. Edna Ferber I've been on a diet for two weeks and all I've lost is two weeks. Totie Fields Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly. M. F. K. Fisher Food has it over sex for variety. Hedonistically, gustatory possibilities are much broader than copulatory ones. Joseph Epstein I am not a glutton - I am an explorer of food. Erma Bombeck Food ... is the topmost taper on the golden candelabrum of existence. Donald Barthelme He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man: that he may bring forth food out of the earth; And wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which strengtheneth man's heart. Bible, Psalms The food here is so tasteless you could eat a meal of it and belch and it wouldn't remind you of anything. Redd Foxx One should eat to live, not live to eat. Benjamin Franklin More die in the United States from too much food that from too little. John Kenneth Galbraith God comes to the hungry in the form of food. Mahatma Gandhi It isn't so much what's on the table that matters, as what's on the chairs. W. S. Gilbert Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion. Sir Walter Scott Mellow nuts have the hardest rind. Sir Walter Scott

Thoughts on the art of food Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. Oscar Wilde We ought to know about our culinary past. Food and identity is terribly important ... I don't mean we should go out and eat historic dishes, but we should know what makes us different ... self-confident nations have that sense of where they come from. Tom Jaine What is food to one, is to others bitter poison. Lucretius Food is much better off the hand than the fork. Mario Batali You can't just eat good food. You've got to talk about it too. And you've got to talk about it to somebody who understands that kind of food. Kurt Vonnegut We need a quarter of the food we eat to live, the rest is used to fatten industrialists, advertisers, doctors and undertakers. (obviously for those dying of hunger the situation changes.) Carl William Brown Food - what is chosen from the possibilities available, how it is presented, how it is eaten, with whom and when, and how much time is allotted to cooking and eating it - is one of the means by which a society creates itself and acts out its aims and fantasies. Margaret Visser There is such a thing as food and such a thing as poison. But the damage done by those who pass off poison as food is far less than that done by those who generation after generation convince people that food is poison. Paul Goodman A gourmet is just a glutton with brains. Phillip H. Haberman Jr. As a child my family's menu consisted of two choices: take it, or leave it. Buddy Hackett A store of grain, Oh king is the best of treasures. A gem put in your mouth will not support life. Hitopadesa First rule of Economics 101: our desires are insatiable. Second rule: we can stomach only three Big Macs at a time. Doug Horton Most of us are either too thin to enjoy eating, or too fat to enjoy walking. Edgar Watson Howe A lot of Thanksgiving days have been ruined by not carving the turkey in the kitchen. Kin Hubbard A man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner. Samuel Johnson He who does not mind his belly, will hardly mind anything else. Samuel Johnson He who cannot eat horsemeat need not do so. Let him eat pork. But he who cannot eat pork, let him eat horsemeat. It's simply a question of taste. Nikita S. Khrushchev Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may diet. Harry Kurnitz I judge a restaurant by the bread and by the coffee. Burt Lancaster The most dangerous food to eat is a wedding cake. Author Unknown

Quotes on food and wine Food is our common ground, a universal experience. James Beard The fact is that this generation - yours, my generation ... we're the first generation that can look at poverty and disease, look across the ocean to Africa and say with a straight face, we can be the first to end this sort of stupid extreme poverty, where in the world of plenty, a child can die for lack of food in it's belly. Bono The act of putting into your mouth what the earth has grown is perhaps your most direct interaction with the earth. Frances Moore Lappe Ask your child what he wants for dinner only if he's buying. Fran Lebowitz Food is an important part of a balanced diet. Fran Lebowitz If you're going to America, bring your own food. Fran Lebowitz Vegetables are interesting but lack a sense of purpose when unaccompanied by a good cut of meat. Fran Lebowitz I told my doctor I get very tired when I go on a diet, so he gave me pep pills. Know what happened? I ate faster. Joe E. Lewis If there were only turnips and potatoes in the world, someone would complain that plants grow the wrong way. Georg C. Lichtenberg Everything you see I owe to spaghetti. Sophia Loren Choose rather to punish your appetites than be punished by them. Tyrius Maximus It ain't what you eat, but the way how you chew it. Delbert McClinton You can travel fifty thousand miles in America without once tasting a piece of good bread. Henry Miller Never eat more than you can lift. Miss Piggy We are digging our graves with our teeth. Thomas Moffett Lunch kills half of Paris, supper the other half. Charles De Montesquieu No man is lonely while eating spaghetti; it requires so much attention. Christopher Morley You needn't tell me that a man who doesn't love oysters and asparagus and good wines has got a soul, or a stomach either. He's simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed. Hector Hugh Munro He that eats till he is sick must fast till he is well. Hebrew Proverb There is only one thing harder than looking for a dewdrop in the dew, and that is fishing for a clam in the clam chowder. New England Proverb

Vegetarian food pyramid Want to learn to eat a lot? Here it is: Eat a little. That way, you will be around long enough to eat a lot. Anthony Robbins We know that ever woman wants to be thin. Our images of womanhood are almost synonymous with thinness. Susie Orbach We may find in the long run that tinned food is a deadlier weapon than the machine-gun. George Orwell Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody. Samuel Pepys Make food a very incidental part of your life by filling your life so full of meaningful things that you'll hardly have time to think about food. Peace Pilgrim He who eats alone chokes alone. Arabian Proverb It's better that it should make you sick than that you don't eat it at all. Catalan Proverb Don't dig your grave with your knife and fork. English Proverb A good meal ought to begin with hunger. French Proverb Appetite comes with eating; the more one has, the more one would have. French Proverb There is no such thing as a pretty good omelette. French Proverb Coffee should be black as Hell, strong as death, and sweet as love. Turkish Proverb When one has tasted it he knows what the angels eat. Mark Twain He who is a slave to his stomach seldom worships God. Saadi I have found it to be the most serious objection to coarse labors long continued, that they compelled me to eat and drink coarsely also. Henry David Thoreau There is nothing to which men, while they have food and drink, cannot reconcile themselves. George Santayana To eat is to appropriate by destruction. Jean-Paul Sartre Eating is not merely a material pleasure. Eating well gives a spectacular joy to life and contributes immensely to goodwill and happy companionship. It is of great importance to the morale. Elsa Schiaparelli He jests at scars that never felt a wound. William Shakespeare There is no love sincerer than the love of food. George Bernard Shaw

Ideas and quotes on food Seven's a banquet nine a brawl. Author Unknown Worthless people love only to eat and drink; people of worth eat and drink only to live. Socrates For much of the female half of the world, food is the first signal of our inferiority. It lets us know that our own families may consider female bodies to be less deserving, less needy, less valuable. Gloria Steinem Lunch is for wimps. Oliver Stone Man shall not live by bread alone. The Holy Bible Put a knife to thy throat, if you're a man given to appetite. The Holy Bible Much meat, much disease. Author Unknown Fang drops so much food on his ties we keep them in the refrigerator. Phyllis Diller Do not arouse disdainful mind when you prepare a broth of wild grasses; do not arouse joyful mind when you prepare a fine cream soup. Dogen A good, honest, wholesome, hungry breakfast. Izaak Walton Our lives are not in the lap of the gods, but in the lap of our cooks. Lin Yutang Find out more visiting these links: Good food for your diet (With Videos) Vegetarian food diets (With Videos) Thoughts and reflections on food Aforismi e citazioni sul cibo International and Italian recipes Enogastronomia e turismo Italian recipes, fashion and travels https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/collection/easy https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes http://allrecipes.com/recipes/1947/everyday-cooking/quick-and-easy/ http://www.sjana.com/blogs/lifestyle/food-for-the-soul Cooking traditions in Lombardy, Italy Read the full article

[blotsburg]

kevin schlieb headcannons bc im obsessed with him and there arent very many posts about him

-total softie

-very awkward and nervous but forehead kisses calm him down

-total mama’s boy but pretends he doesnt love her as much as he really does (100% drew her pictures all the time in elementary school)

-gets so focused on his drumming that he sometimes bleeds and his hands are numb from the drumsticks hitting the drum

-would listen to ‘tears over beers’ on repeat when thinking about how he was too scared to confess to you

-is insecure about his smile so he tries to smile very slightly without teeth bc some kid in 5th grade said his smile was crooked

-he has OCD and often does things such as turning the lights on and off repeatedly or constantly making sure he doesnt step on cracks on the ground. his parents assumed it was thing he liked doing that he just never grew out of when in reality hes does it in order to “save his loved ones.” he also unpauses and pauses videos as well as always playing a specific song first on the drums before playing any other one.

-one time when you, hunter, kevin, and emily were eating dinner at your house, you had a very colorful tablecloth. it had a bunch of random items that were all types of colors. instead of eating, kevin was just touching them all in rainbow order. you all saw it out the corner of your eye so you three looked over and saw him randomly tapping the items on the tablecloth. you, hunter, and emily all shared a very confused look. you asked kevin what he was doing and he just shrugged and said, “i just have to.” he figured it would be hard to explain. you just nodded and continued to eat. you often find yourself why he did that but kevin denies that it even happened.

-he likes being held

-he sleeps with his legs tucked in and all curled up

-loves it when you scratch his scalp lightly and play with is hair. he cannot get enough of it. always hopes that you’ll do it when cuddling.

-always falls asleep before midnight

-cant say ‘i love you’ to anybody. not his mom, dad, little brother, or you. the reason is because he’s scared he’ll give someone his all and they’ll be ripped away from him or leave him. you constantly remind him that you love him, being okay with the fact that you know he won’t say it back.

-hes a thigh guy. thigh boy. thigh man. loves thighs. we don’t know to this day why, but he just does. when sitting next to you in the car or on a bus, you bet his hand will be on your thigh. he loves being in between your thighs, his neck on your lower stomach. definitely your go-to cuddle position + he gets head scratches

-total geography nerd

-thinks baby yoda is unbearably hideous and you always have playful arguments about it

[mushroompoisoning]

does anybody know what the study of like. planets is called. planets and how they work and form and how their geography is formed. what specific study is that or is it just geography

[klinejack]

does anybody know any geography or map games i can play online to stimulate my visual memory of the earth? i am progressively more and more disappointed with my brain on this subject and i don’t like it :(

[banannabethchase]

Adam's parents are gone for the weekend, and invites Jon over to stay.

~

NOTE: As indicated by the rating and content warnings, there are no depictions of anybody having sex. There are conversations about wants and interests, but there's no written acts or anything. It's all implied like a YA novel.

The chapter contains some of my favorite lines I've ever written and I hope you enjoy this <3

Mini playlist: Heaven's Gate - Fall Out Boy Truly Madly Deeply - Savage Garden Lightning in a Bottle - The Summer Set Moon - The Cab

~

Adam manages to avoid Kenny and the Jacksons enough the first month of the school year, other than that moment with Matt when he had the sunglasses. He ticks off every day he makes it without an incident, until, suddenly, it’s been days since he thought about it.

He’s actually enjoying the classes and the non-Baller Club people for the first time since middle school. He aces the first AP Human Geography test, nails the in class essay on Beowulf for AP English, and does okay on the first Chemistry test. He and Alex study with Jon, who gives them tricks and strategies to survive. He makes it to October in one piece, and wonders, a little bit, if this is what people mean when they say high school is the best years of their life.

Having Jon in his corner, too, is different. He knows Adam’s tells, the name of all of Adam’s animals, all the mistakes Adam’s made, and he likes him no matter what.

It’s more like home than a person’s ever felt.

On a chilly early October afternoon, Adam’s chatting with Dalton about the cows they plan on showing, when Jon, all swagger and neon hair, swings up next to him outside of the ag barn, yells, "Boo!", and Adam nearly jumps out of his shoes.

“Is this the guy?” Dalton asks. He makes a show of looking Jon up and down. “Good look. Weird hair.”

“That’s why I do it,” Jon says, nodding to Dalton. He turns to Adam. “Hey, so, wanna hang out tonight?”

Adam nods. “Yeah,” he gives Dalton a look. “That sounds great.”

Dalton does not react.

“Dalton,” Adam says, “can we, uh, get a moment?”

“Ugh, fine,” Dalton says, “deny me my in person real life fanfiction bullshit.”

“Don’t you have, like, two boyfriends?” Jon asks.

Dalton shrugs. “Yeah, but this is different. Sometimes you want some strange, you know?”

Adam shoves him toward the path back to school. “Okay, bye, love you, get out.” He turns back to Jon. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So, I was thinking,” Adam says. “I have an idea.”

“Two very shocking turns of events, based on how this conversation is going,” Jon pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. “Tell me your thoughts and ideas, Cowboy.”

Adam wants to smoke just to put his lips where Jon’s have been. “You, uh,” Adam is suddenly nervous, “you wanna stay over tonight?”

Jon blinks. “Tonight?”

Adam nods. “My parents are out, they’ve got a wedding that didn’t invite anybody under twenty-one, and I’ve, uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve never been alone overnight before.”

“You want a buddy?” Jon asks, gently teasing. “Yeah, I’ll stay over. But don’t expect me to put out or anything. I’m not that kind of girl.”

Adam stares at him. “Put – put out? Are you kidding me, is this 1974?” He bonks Jon over the head with his agenda.

Jon shrugs, that little smile on his lips. “You’re right. I’ll probably put out if you ask nice.” His eyes go suddenly soft and serious. “I mean, if you want to.”

Adam swallows and hides his hands, because they’ve started shaking just a little bit. This is what he’d hoped for, but things are going far more according to plan than even his best scheming could have suggested. “I think so. Yeah, I think – I think it’d be nice.”

Jon smiles, a little wider, then leans in and presses a gruff kiss to Adam’s temple. “Okay, cool. I gotta go home real quick and get some stuff, okay?” He starts to pull away, but then he leans back in and kisses Adam on the mouth, hard like a promise. “See you soon.”

“Want me to drive you?” Adam calls as Jon walks away.

“I’ll bike over later.”

Adam gets a little hot all over. “Like – motorcycle?”

Jon throws his head back when he laughs, hair going everywhere. Adam wants to paint the moment, but settles for memorizing it. “Yeah, you wish, hot shot. No, I got an old ten speed.”

Adam blinks. “You dumbass. You’re coming with me.” He strides over and grabs Jon’s arm.

“I can bike!” Jon complains as Adam drags him across the campus toward the lot. “Oh, my god, you’re strong. This is so annoying. Get off.”

Adam drops him and settles for guiding him – Jon calls it shoving – by the shoulders. “Get in the car. You’re not biking, like, twelve miles.”

Jon pouts. “But it’s fast!”

Adam groans. “It’s not faster than – get in my truck, you dumbass. I’ll drive you and then we’ll go back to mine.” He opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat.

Jon, teasingly, begins stepping backwards. “I could just leave.”

“Get in the truck!” Adam can’t stop laughing, can’t hold back the glee. Jon is now weaving between other people trying to leave the parking lot.

“Can’t hear you!” he yells.

Adam groans and moves to turn his car around so he can go meet Jon from behind, but then he sees that he’s blocked in. By Matt Jackson.

“Oh, Jesus Christ McFuck,” he whines. The impulse to go home and get trashed hits him like a train. He rips his eyes away from the rear view mirror, grip now iron on the steering wheel, and does everything he can not to look in the rearview mirror. It’s too scary to think that Matt’s eyes may be looking back.

The door clicks open, and Jon jumps into the passenger seat, energy still floating around him. “You were supposed to chase me!”

“Was gonna,” Adam mutters, and immediately Jon’s tone shifts.

“What? What happened?”

Adam jerks his head behind him. “Jacksons. Behind us.”

Jon makes a weird face. “You – you wanna, like, reverse into them or something?”

“Why do you look mildly turned on by vehicular damage?” Adam asks, decidedly going forward in the line.

“It’s you doing the vehicular damage,” Jon replies, “so, like, kind of always turned on.”

“Even when Mr. Pham is talking about inequity of wealth in global communities?” Adam asks, making it to the first of three stop signs in the line. “That seems irresponsible.” He glances in the rearview mirror out of habit, and immediately wants to throw up. Matt was looking at him. “What are the odds of them behind right me in the line?!”

“Breathe, Cowboy,” Jon says gently. He rests a hand on Adam’s arm, and Adam drops it from the wheel, grabbing him.

“I am breathing,” he says. “All I want to do is slide tackle the two of them. And then, like, punch them in the throat.”

“Charming,” Jon says. “Talk more violence. This is fun.”

“You’re gonna get me in trouble with Scotty if you don’t put on your seat belt." He doesn’t look in the rear view mirror this time, just uses the ones on the side. It loosens the vice crushing his chest, if he just pretends they aren’t there. But that can only go so far.

“Scotty and his little parking lot police golf cart can’t even outrun me on foot,” Jon says, buckling anyway and throwing his feet up on the dash. “Let’s focus on tonight and the way I’m gonna make you forget about those Elite assholes.” Jon begins to rant about how mediocre they are, how lame their name is, and it sounds like he’s reading out of a book. It gives Adam the room to breathe, the opportunity to laugh. The vice falls away. “And tonight,” Jon says, “we’re gonna make it so the only thing you remember about Kenny Omega is that his dick is weird and he fucks like trash compared to me.”

Adam finds himself giggling. “Thought you said you wouldn’t put out?”

“That was before I had the image of you punching someone in the throat and the way you, ooh, stop fully at every single stop sign.” He fans himself. “The dichotomy of man.”

Adam gets him in a headlock once they’re off school property and holds him like that until they get to Jon’s house.

He runs in and gets whatever the hell from his house, then leaps back out through a window of all things.

“Why – there is a door!” Adam sputters.

“Gotta keep ‘em on their toes,” Jon says, sliding in.

“Who’s them?!”

Jon grins, then leans in to kiss Adam gently. “You, baby.”

They get to Adam’s and the tone changes. Seeing the backpack a little more filled with stuff, and knowing it’s clothes, maybe a toothbrush, makes Adam’s body feel too small, like there’s so much willing to burst out of him.

“Um,” Adam says, going for the fridge. “I, uh, since we’re alone tonight. You want a drink?” He pulls out two beers.

“Oh, no,” Jon says, stepping backward. It’s the first time Adam’s seen panic in his eyes. “Um. I don’t – I don’t drink.” He rubs anxiously at his jaw, where the stubble is the thickest. It’s where Adam finds his hand often, too. “I can’t.”

“Oh.” Adam looks down at the beers in his hands, then back to Jon. “Um. Sorry. I’ll just put them…” He trails off, and shoves them into the fridge. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s – it’s cool. Had an issue a bit ago, sophomore year.” He frowns. “Eddie and I were fighting.”

Adam nods. He thinks he remembers rumors of that. He was so wrapped up in Baller Club back then – the problems of other people were small compared to the way Cody and Kenny were fighting. “About what?”

“I was, uh, getting a little too into football,” he ruffles his hand through his pink streaked hair, “focused on the wrong things, you know? Going to the parties. Sophomore year, the seniors were all obsessed with drinking." Adam remembers that - Chris Jericho, soccer captain, spent hours talking about how good the parties were. It was the first time the Elite started a war against other people on the soccer team. "So I was, too.” He kicks at the bottom of the chair. “Got a little too into it. Eddie was worried. He was right to be.” He finally looks up into Adam’s eyes. “One night, after a party, I went to pick up Eddie to hang out. And I, uh, almost wrecked my car. Eddie was riding shotgun. He said,” his voice catches. He clears it, and starts again. “He said if I kept it up, the drinking all the time, that is, he was leaving. We yelled. He walked away. And I realized nothing was worth seeing him leave.”

Adam sits down in his mom’s chair at the table, and Jon follows, sitting in the chair Adam usually chooses. “That’s a lot,” Adam says. “I’m sorry I brought the beers out.”

“Nah, don’t be, Cowboy,” Jon says, smiling with a little sadness behind it. “Sometimes I need to talk about it. Remind myself why I don’t.”

“Speaking of Eddie,” Adam says, because it’s been bothering him, “does he know about us?” He pauses. “Like, that we’re boyfriends like – like you two are?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jon says, like it’s normal. “Yeah, he does. He’s been with Miguel for a little while too.” He shrugs. “Eddie’s my endgame, but we don’t think it makes sense to get stuck in that, you know? I’m gonna marry Eddie one day, live in some shitty little apartment happily ever after with taxes and bills fucking it up, but that doesn’t mean we can’t, I don’t know, find connections with others.” Jon’s smile goes soft, gentle. “And I like our connection.”

Adam grins. “Glad to hear it.

Jon scuffs his shoe on the ground. “Uh, so,” he clears his throat, “I got a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever, um, have you actually done anything before?” Jon asks. “I know I was talking shit earlier, but I honestly don’t know what to expect from Kenny Omega and his sexual attraction to soccer cleats.”

Adam nods. “I had, uh, sex. With Kenny. A lot.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “A lot, he clarifies?”

“Shut up,” Adam says, burning pink. “Just with him, though.”

“Nobody else?” Jon asks, and it’s more gentle than Adam expects.

Adam shakes his head. “I, uh, I gotta be honest with you. I don’t think I’ve gotten over Kenny.” He doesn’t know why he says it.

Jon is quiet for a moment. “That’s okay. I’ve got Eddie, so maybe we’re kinda in the same boat there.” He meets Adam’s eyes. “You think he might be your Eddie?”

“I don’t know,” Adam says, and he really doesn’t. “If we don’t iron everything out, I hope not. But if we do.” He lets it hang in the air. He doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to allow hope to seep in through the cracks of his own insecurities. And, he realizes, doesn’t want to let latent feelings for someone who won’t speak to him get in his and Jon's way.

“You don’t have to make any decisions about that,” Jon says, and he stands, offering out a hand. “Just – live the moment. If you two get back together, awesome. If you don’t, that’s the way it goes. But right now,” he’s pulls Adam’s hand, walking backwards, “it’s whatever you want.”

Adam follows him. “Whatever I want?”

Jon grins. “You know what I mean.”

They give up on words for a while, lazily making out on the couch, when Jon’s hands find themselves crawling up the front of Hangman’s shirt. And he pauses.

“Wait.” He pulls back, and yanks Adam’s shirt off.

“Um.”

“You have legit abs." He sounds reverent, astonished. "You – what do you do, paint those on?” Jon reaches out and touches Adam’s chest. “Fuck, you’re the painting.”

Adam stares. “You’ve seen me shirtless!”

“Yeah, like, for a second, but now I get to look, and I’m looking.” He looks a little dazed. “How do you even get those?” He looks up, dead into Adam’s eyes. “Is this what all hot cowboys look like?”

Adam fights the urge to cover up. He’s never had this before – someone staring at him like this, saying all these complimentary things. With Kenny, it was the norm. All of them had abs, unless they’d just loaded up on a pasta party, and even then they’d pull the joke they’d call ‘fat abs’, which, looking back, really wasn’t funny at all.

Jon’s looking at him like he’s a masterpiece, and he’s used to feeling like a factory model. “Here, don’t look too close at me or whatever, but I’m getting my shirt off and just, yeah. Don’t,” he looks shy, suddenly. “Don’t judge me, okay?”

Adam helps him take off his shirt, and finds himself looking for flaws, interest piqued by Jon’s request, but he finds nothing to startle him. Some scars around the top of his chest, something maybe surgery related around his stomach, but Jon’s beautiful and tantalizing and he has chest hair, which is the first time he’s seen it on a kid his age. Adam decides, in that moment, to shut out the memory he has of Kenny, naked and glowing under sunlight.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbles, and his mouth doesn’t feel like it’s working for words. So he decides not to worry about them, letting his actions speak for him.

They fumble, of course. Adam’s not sure why they thought they’d both be superstars at this, but it feels like safety and joy, like learning more about yourself through the touch of another. He laughs – more than once.

When they collapse onto Adam’s bed, foreheads sweaty and Adam finding pink hair in his face at every turn, Adam’s heart feels full. He feels calm.

“Your hair is in my face,” Adam mutters, because it’s getting ridiculous enough that he’s about to sneeze with all this pink under his nose.

“Deal with it,” Jon replies, and he snuggles up against Adam, his face buried into Adam’s neck. Almost automatically, Adam reaches around Jon and pulls him in close.

It’s soft and quiet for a moment, Adam sure he could fall asleep, when he gets walloped in the face. “What – why are you ruining the moment?”

“You’re breathing loud.”

Adam opens his eyes to a curtain of pink hair across his face. He spits it out, shifting so Jon flops onto the bed. “What, I’m not allowed to breathe?”

“You,” Jon says, putting himself back onto Adam’s chest, throwing his pink hair over Adam’s eyes, “aren’t allowed to kill my afterglow.”

It strikes Adam as devastatingly funny, somehow, and he laughs so hard his stomach hurts. But Jon’s laughing with him, and they curl around each other like puppies, and Adam wants this forever.

~

The weekend passes with strange domesticity. Adam’s never woken up without his parents like this before, or with Jon, but it, somehow, feels right.

They kiss goodbye Sunday evening, with Jon grabbing Adam’s bicep like a lifeline as he draws the breath out of him. Adam lingers on the goodbye, even though he doesn’t have to.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow,” Jon says, tucking a rogue curl behind Adam’s ear. “Besides. Check your texts. I sent you something.”

Adam blushes the whole car ride home.

~

For a Monday, things go pretty well. Until he crosses the building to get to Chemistry class. As he passes the gym and locker rooms, an arm grabs him, and he’s yanked into a room. His fists are up, and he’s ready to swing, when he sees Anna.

“What – why are you in the boy’s locker room?”

“Don’t worry about that,” she says. “Why are you hanging out with Jon Moxley so much?”

Adam feels his face burn. “I’m – we’re, it’s like, it’s just…” He trails off. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m your friend, and I’m the only one with a brain cell in the Dark Order. All of them think it’s cute you moved on.” She folds her arms in front of herself. “I'm concerned for your wellbeing.”

“I'm not gonna get weird about him or anything,” Adam says. Anna raises an eyebrow. “No, seriously! I won’t.”

“Yeah,” she deadpans, “because you’re great with regulating your emotions.”

“I won’t!” Adam repeats. “I swear. I mean, he’s my boyfriend. But I’m good. I swear. I’m not gonna get hurt or anything.”

“You sound like a dumbass in a romcom,” Anna says. “You really believe you, of all people, can keep yourself from getting hurt.”

Adam don’t answer right away. He knows he’s a romantic; he’s fallen in love about four times a day since he learned to appreciate a nice ass. But this, with Jon? It feels like friendship with a fire underneath it. It feels safe. It doesn’t feel like he used to with Kenny. “I do,” Adam says. “I really do.”

Anna studies him for long enough that he starts to feel ants crawl up his spine. She makes eye contact like other people make war. “I’m keeping an eye on you,” she finally says. “If he hurts you, I’m going to choke him out. I want to make sure you know that. And then I’ll probably choke you out, too.”

Adam nods. “Fair. Just – have a little faith, okay?” He smiles. “This time, I think I’m on the right track.”

“You better be,” Anna says with a sigh. “John is a little pissed that he’s not the Jon you’re getting into bed with. If you mess it up, he might confront you about it.”

Adam laughs, ducking his head. “Well, I’ll tell him he’s pretty next time I see him, how about that?”

“If you go that far, he might cream his pants.” She wrinkles her nose. “Anyway, you leave first. I’ll go out the back way.”

Adam blinks. “There’s a back way?”

With a sigh, like this is the final straw of her dealing with his shit, she nods. “Yes, dumbass, the window. There’s always a back way if there’s a window.”

He opens his mouth to respond that they are, indeed, on the second floor, and he’s pretty sure it opens out to the courtyard, but Anna’s gone and he’s speaking to air.

He shakes his head and pulls his hair off of his face, and makes his way out of the locker room. And the day only gets weirder. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. It’s not as bad as seeing Kenny, at least, and Nick at least looks a little hesitant as they pass in the hallway.

“Hi, Adam.”

It’s enough to stop him in his tracks. “Are you actually talking to me?” He doesn't say it mean, he thinks. It's truly just disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Nick says, so fast it’s like he didn’t mean to speak. “Um, that my brother and Kenny are being such jerks.” He rubs his hand at his neck. He’s cut his hair a little shorter. Trying to grow a beard. None of it masks how young those bright blue eyes are. “I just wanted to, uh. I wanted to make sure you know I’ve still got your back. And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Adam just blinks at him. Nick’s always been the gentlest of them all, he knows it, and Adam’s sorry to say he’s been on the rough end of Adam’s own anger. “You do?”

Nick nods. “I,” he pauses, drawing his eyes up to meet Adam’s. It feels safe. “I don’t think any of us did a good job of being friends to you. We didn’t help you.” He furrows his brow. “I could tell something is wrong and I just…I’ve been talking to my pastor about it, and he thinks an apology is only the first step. So, I’m sorry. For not doing something when I could tell you weren’t – that something wasn’t right.”

Adam wants to say something, but no words come, so he settles for a smile until his brain reconnects. “How’s the season going?”

Nick lights up. “Oh, so good!” His eyes go somewhere else for a second. “Well, sort of. Matt and I have that stopper/sweeper routine down pat. We’re letting in, like, no offensive players. It’s great.” He turns his eyes back to Adam’s. “And yesterday’s game - you should have seen the way we left the other team – we’re ten and oh, so we’re doing so much better than we exp…” He trails off. “Um. Well, we’re doing better than I expected we’d be doing without you.” His smile turns sheepish. “You always were always our best striker. Even though Kenny never wanted to admit it.”

“Oh. Thanks. That’s, uh. That’s high praise, from you.” He nods. “A good defender can always tell the good strikers.”

“And this one does,” Nick says. “Hey, I gotta get to my next class before the bell. I have Herrington and she’s like – ”

“Oh, definitely, run,” Adam laughs. “She’s the worst when it comes to late students.”

Nick nods. He steps backwards, pauses, then runs at Adam, wrapping him in a quick, tight hug. “I’ve missed you,” he says. “I’ll text you sometime, okay?”

The bell goes off, and Adam is left, a little baffled but content, standing in the hallway.

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

everybody was lying to me

Words: 2181 (AO3)

Originally Posted on 3/5/2024

Rating: T

Summary:

Michael Shelley was deceived by everybody in his life the moment he stepped into the Magnus Institute for a job.

They all had their reasons, of course. Some wanted to protect him. Some wanted to watch him flail about in uncertainty. Some just didn't know that they were deceiving him at all.

Gerard Keay was one of those people. He was less fond of the deception than everybody else.

For Febuwhump 2024 Day 15: "Who did this to you?"

The door on the side of this building doesn't match the wall that it's attached to.

That's not really something that Gerry's particularly concerned about, given the myriad of other things on his mind, but it's a detail that doesn't escape his notice. Gertrude's on a business trip, Mother's sending him on another wild goose chase, Michael isn't returning his calls, and the bright yellow door doesn't match the run-down brick wall.

Gertrude- Ms. Robinson to her face- is an understandable one. She takes many business trips, for varying reasons, ranging from "getting another Leitner before anybody else does" to "stopping another apocalypse, do keep up" to "ostensibly doing something for the Pu Songling establishment while visiting Beijing." These past few weeks, she's been off in Russia or Siberia- are they one in the same? Is Siberia in Russia? Gerry doesn't know, he hasn't taken geography classes and it's never been pertinent information- for something undisclosed. She goes many places for many reasons, there's no reason to think it at all strange, just a matter of inconvenience. If Gerry can't give the excuse that the Archivist needs him for one reason or another, he's less able to spend a few hours out of the shop without consequence.

Speaking of spending time out of the shop, at least he gets to be out of Mother's reach for a few days while he stays in York, looking for some Leitner that's supposedly resembling a cotton candy machine manual. All he really knows about the Leitner is don't read it- a given- and people who have read it seem drunk, which isn't all that immediately indistinguishable from actually being drunk. The cotton candy machine itself is lost or nonexistent, but even if it were real, Gerry wouldn't be looking for it and wouldn't be taking it back with him if he found it. That's not something that Mother would be interested in, and not something that the Institute would owe them a favor for.

With regards to the Institute, Gerry isn't fond of it at all, really- not as an establishment, not what it represents, and certainly not the weirdly conniving way that its Head seems so keen behaving all the time. The only real positives are the excuses it provides him, not often, but often enough, and one singular employee there that he's actually fond of. Michael Shelley is an acquaintance, with whom he'd even hazard to say he's bordering the lines of friendship, though not to the degree that Gerry's entirely certain whether his naivete is born of obliviousness or some sort of deliberate sheltering going on within the Archives. Information is their greatest asset, after all, and withholding it is a tactic enjoyed by many a worshipper of the Beholding, for... strange and unknown reasons. Gerry's never been privy to those kinds of schemes from the outside.

Michael Shelley is not the kind of person to be so quiet for such a long time. Gerry's learned that fairly quickly over the course of their odd acquaintanceship, when there would hardly be a day that went by without at least a few text messages exchanged between them. Is that normal for people who aren't even friends yet, or is he overthinking this? Did he cross a line somewhere? He's never really gotten to this point before with anybody else, so he doesn't know how to proceed from here. All that he can do is send a text, maybe leave a voicemail every once in a while to check in, and wait. He can't go to the Institute in person- again, he's in York, and if Mother caught him back in London before finding anything conclusive about the damned Leitner, she'd have his head- so all that he can do for now is distract himself by paying attention to the stupid details of everything.

Hence, the door. It's a bright, garish yellow, almost designed to attract attention, sat on the side of the stout brick building he doesn't know the purpose of, and yet Gerry hasn't noticed it before today. He's quite sure that he's passed by this building before today, since it's on the quickest route between his hotel and the cheapest coffeeshop in the immediate area, but this is definitely the first time he's seeing the door. There's no way it could've gotten there by any sort of normal means, and no way that it just didn't register, so it has to be the product of something much more immediately dangerous than a Leitner.

Furtively, he glances up and down the street, looking to see if anybody else seems to notice the odd door- nobody so much as glances at it, their eyes sliding over it like it isn't even there. Does he approach? He should, just in case it disappears, though he's obviously not going to enter it. He quickly starts trying to run through what doors are associated with, and nothing in particular seems to come to mind, nothing from Smirke's Fourteen uses it as any kind of specific symbol and no monster directly uses it in its hunting or as a part of itself. Gerry's going in blind here, which isn't something he's very fond of at all, but something that he can do if he must.

Hopefully, this is something that's either somewhat sentient or else easily destroyed. The sentient ones can be reasoned with, and he's got a box of matches on him all the time.

He crosses the street, careful not to seem too restless, wary of catching unwanted eyes- after all, he doesn't know for sure that he's the only one who can see the door, nor is he sure that the monster itself is even in the same vicinity as the door, and not something similar to the Anglerfish, where there is bait and there is the thing itself, almost entirely in separate places. He ducks into the alleyway- it's rather wide for an alleyway, but there's a good pile of cigarette butts piled near one of the other doors, so he'll call it an alleyway as he pleases- and looks closer.

The color of the door nearly burns his eyes, but oddly, the moment he thinks that, the bright yellow turns just a little less bright, as though it's adjusting itself on his account. The doorknob is a beautiful brass, polished perfectly, and the door itself looks almost freshly painted. Gerry gets the odd sense that this is for him, nobody else, and not in the usual sense- not in the way that a monster puts on airs to lure in a victim, any victim, but in the sense that it is all for Gerry himself. He's absurdly reminded of the concept of a man putting on his best clothes for a date, and he dismisses the ridiculous concept almost as quickly.

"Gerard!"

The familiar voice- close enough to be familiar, not close enough for Gerry to ask him to shorten it- pulls him from his investigative reverie, and he looks over to see Michael, of all people, weaving through a small clump of people on the sidewalk to meander his way over. "What are you doing in York?" He continues, a bright smile on his face. It's almost as bright as the door, Gerry thinks, and he glances back at it to make sure it's still there- it is, sitting there completely still, almost politely waiting for him to finish his conversation.

"Looking for a Leitner. You know how it is when we catch wind of these things." Gerry says neutrally, and Michael nods in understanding. Michael may be somewhat oblivious, but he does know that Leitners and other sorts of artifacts from other sorts of people are dangerous- though the mechanism by which they are dangerous is something that Gerry has no clue with regards to Michael's awareness- and he can at least keep from lying in this little instance. Gerry doesn't particularly like lying to Michael- he's fine lying to everyone else, but for some reason, when it's Michael he always feels a horrible pit of guilt in his stomach for a while after.

"I actually just came up from London, I didn't think I'd find you here- no wonder you weren't at the Institute! I'd been looking for you!" Michael chirps brightly, and all of a sudden Gerry becomes very aware of the fact that the door has slowly been opening this entire time. He can glance inside and see a sparsely decorated hallway, with walls the same color as the door and a dark carpet, accentuated with a long, white rug. There seem to be small pictures hanging at intervals along the way, though Gerry can't quite see what's on them from this distance. He'd have to go inside to get a better view.

The moment he looks back at Michael, he notices that he's clutching his head, just above his eyes, as though he's just been hit by a furious migraine. Michael has never complained of headaches before. Why is he in York, anyway? He came from London, sure- and mentioned that he'd been looking for Gerry, so there must be a problem with one of their phones, which makes Gerry feel a little bit stupid for worrying over the whole ordeal- but why? Not to mention, something seems off about him, too bright and cheerful compared to how he usually behaves, not to mention his appearance- it's just not quite right. It's like somebody took a copy of a copy of a photograph of him, and then turned it into a person.

Maybe it's just Gerry's imagination. He's used to reading into things an excessive amount, after all, and though it's served him well over the course of his life, maybe he's overreacting? Maybe there's nothing wrong at all?

Gerry takes a step back from Michael. This isn't right.��He doesn't second-guess himself like this. He knows when things are wrong in the wrong ways, and this whole thing stinks of Spiral. Something is putting those thoughts into his head, and he does not appreciate it.

"I'm sorry," Michael says, almost out of nowhere, "I wanted to calm you down. Didn't realize it would have the opposite effect." He still isn't looking at Gerry in the eye. His hair has gotten longer and curlier in the past few seconds, though Gerry hasn't seen it move. Something, somewhere, has gone very, very wrong.

"... Michael?" Gerry asks, though that's a fairly strong word for it, considering his voice is barely above a whisper. Why, out of everyone, is it Michael? For how long? Has it been like this the whole time? Has he been deceived, given the runaround, played for an idiot all this time? The door, clearly, is responding to Michael, so they are one in the same- why hasn't Gerry seen it before? How long was Michael pretending to be human?

"Yes... and no. Michael, your Michael Shelley, is dead. There's just me now." Michael- Its- voice wavers, at the same volume as Gerry's was, but there's something in it now that wasn't there before, something like an inaudible frequency playing in the background of his speech, not directly observable but definitely making an impact. It is taller than Michael was, though he didn't notice a change in height before. Something is wrong, and only growing worse.

"And what... what are you?" Gerry asks, because this is not a person anymore.

"Dearest," It finally looks up from its hands, finally looks Gerry in the eye, "Don't ask me questions like that. There's nothing to answer, you see, you're only hurting us both. I am a kaleidoscope, I am a monster, I am a melody on the wind, I am nothing at all. They are all true, in a way; I don't know which is the most true. I don't know which is more true for you than for anybody else. I know that he missed you so badly that I missed you too, I know that you are kind, I know that you did not deceive him like the others did." It seems like it's in a great deal of pain. It grows taller, still, its fingers longer and bonier, its hair even more curled. It does not seem like something that became this way on purpose.

"... Who did this to you?" It is both an admission of weakness, of trust, and a statement of alliance. Gerry isn't quite sure on this thing that Michael has become, but it doesn't seem dangerous to him. It doesn't seem quite oriented yet. It called him 'dearest.'

"Someone that you can't afford to lose." It says it with finality, both admitting that it was something that was done to it, rather than the other way around, and that whoever it was, it's someone that Gerry and Michael would have both trusted implicitly. Something like this couldn't have been done by somebody handing off the wrong book- Michael as a concept is entirely different. This was deliberate. This was calculated.

This has Gertrude Robinson's name written all over it.

[womanofwords]

STEM Kids Shenanigans (Chapter 25)

Chapter 25: The Other Secondary School

Angelo was not expecting to be pulled out of his morning geography class, but he wasn't complaining. Yujin, Dante, and Layla were waiting outside when he got there.

"Oh, you're here," Dante said. "I . . . don't know what this is about."

"Yeah, me neither," Layla admitted. "But it can't be anything good."

"Maybe it's Melanie related," Angelo suggested. Dr Violet stuck her head out of the room and called them in.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why you got called here so early on in the day," she said. "And I promise, it's something good."

"What exactly does that mean?" Yujin asked.

"Arrow Point Secondary School, a school that we are thinking about having a partnership with, will be making an appearance to meet you," Dr Violet said. "They've heard a lot about you. You might even be working on a project together."

"What kind of project?" Angelo asked. His stomach was doing flips, but in a good way.

"That has yet to be decided," Dr Violet said. "You can discuss it with them when you meet them."

(PAUSE)

They met the other school's science and maths team the next day. There was six of them to their four, meaning they were outnumbered. They were all clearly older than them (around Santo's age) and looked perpetually annoyed at everything, sneering at disgust as they looked at the school they were standing in. The only adult with them was a tall, thin, pale man with a weak jaw covered in stubble and limp, greasy black hair. Oddly, he looked a lot like one of the students, a girl with the same stature and similar greasy black hair.

"Mr Snobton, what a pleasure!" Dr Violet extended a hand for him to shake. "I'd like you to meet the recently established Marbleton Secondary School STEM Club. I have got to tell you about the flying skateboard they made outside of school!"

"Oh, goodness, how wonderful!" Mr Snobton gushed. "And what are their names?"

"Oh, right, of course." Dr Violet asked. "Introduce yourselves, children."

"I'm Dante," Dante said, shyly.

"Yujin Moon," Yujin said.

"Layla Ismail," Layla sighed, rubbing at her head.

"And I'm Angelo Riva!" Angelo said chirpily. The Arrow Point students gasped and took a step back. The headteacher jumped.

"I'm sorry, did you say your surname was . . . Riva?" the headteacher asked.

"Yes," Angelo said. "Why do you ask?"

"You wouldn't happen to be related to someone named Santo Riva . . . would you?" a boy wearing a green turban asked.

Angelo's eyes widened. "How do you know my older brother?"

The visiting students took a big step back and began whispering among each other. "That's the little brother Santo bragged so much about?" they heard them whisper to each other.

"It has to be. They look identical. Wasn't expecting him to be such a nerd. Santo made him sound cooler."

"That doesn't mean that he's better. He could be even worse than his brother was."

"Is everything OK?" Angelo asked.

"Make that one stay away from us!" the girl with a bow in her hair shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at Angelo.

"What? What did I do?" Angelo asked.

"Anybody with the surname Riva is a bad seed! We don't want a Santo 2.0!" Mr Snobton snapped. The students cowering behind him nodded frantically.

"Why? What did Santo do?" Angelo asked.

"You don't know?" another student asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous. You can't not know."

"But I don't. I never got told anything about Santo's school," Angelo said.

"We will not be working with this . . . young man," Mr Snobton said. "I'll talk to you later, Dr Violet. Come along, children. We should leave." The students filed out, shooting smug looks at the Marbleton Secondary School STEM club.

"What is their problem?" Dante asked.

"It's not what, Dante, it's who," Angelo groaned. "And I know exactly who they're talking about."

(PAUSE)

"Angie!" Mirella giggled, when Angelo came home from school.

"Hi, Mimi," Angelo said, scooping her up and carrying her into the kitchen. "Mum, where's Santo?"

"Upstairs," she said.

"Good." Angelo put his little sister down and walked over to his older brother's room and knocked on the door.

"You can come in," Santo said.

"Santo, your old school was called Arrow Point Secondary School, right?" Angelo asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Some of their science and maths team met with our STEM club and they recognized my surname. They asked if my brother's name was Santo, and then they said that everyone with the surname Riva was a bad seed. What did you do?"

"None of your business," Santo said.

"It kind of is. There's supposed to be a project between our school and their school and none of them want to work with me because of you. They say I'm bad news."

"Oh." Santo sat up and sighed. "Fine. Close the door so nobody else hears."

"Fine." Angelo closed the door, and Santo began to talk.

(PAUSE)

Ever since I was a little kid, I knew I hated rules. They were often stupid and punished the wrong people. The bullies would get away with things all the time and the normal people would get punished. The teachers would do their little talks and tell us that bullying was bad and bullying took place when someone with more authority repeatedly harming someone else with less authority. And the biggest authority figures, other than the teachers and the adults, were the kids that they put in charge and had to make sure that we were following 'the rules'.

Sweet faces to teachers and nasty faces to us, the teachers' pets made our life hell. They would even make up new rules that we had to follow or else. I had to take them down a peg somehow.

"Who put glue on my chair?"

"Who drew a moustache onto a picture of the headteacher?"

"Who rigged all the timers in science class to go off at once?"

It was always me.

Unfortunately, as a result of all of these acts of rebellion, I had gained the reputation of being a bad kid. Mama and Papa got called to school, I got yelled at and grounded, all sorts. Things didn't get any better when I got to secondary school.

The teachers made the rules, but the science team broke them with impunity. And in a school like that, a science-based school, those guys were in charge.

And they let me know it. They let everyone know it, and we all hated them for it. Someone had to bring them down a peg. Someone like me.

And it was glorious.

"Who made cookies with chilli inside that burned the mouths of the science team?" the teacher demanded.

"Who rubbed itching powder into the lab coats?"

"Who gift wrapped an exploding glitter bomb and sent it to the science team meeting room?"

And it was always me.

Admittedly, the thing that got me expelled was my very own magnum opus. You wouldn't know; you were only eight at the time, and I was thirteen. The science team was going to be receiving yet another award, and that was my time. I used a bunch of robot snakes and a very real snake, along with a remote control that would set off the sprinklers when I pressed the button. Once their shiny new trophy was being handed over, I released the snakes onto the stage and waited.

It was glorious.

They were screaming, the audience was screaming. Then the sprinklers came on like the best symphony.

And as they screamed, I sat back and laughed.

They found out it was me, of course. I was caught on CCTV sneaking the robot snakes onto the stage and setting off the sprinklers, and this was my last straw. I was expelled, the school banned my siblings and younger cousins from enrolling, and I had to swear not to tell you or Mirella or the younger cousins what I did.

(PAUSE)

"And that's what I did to the science team back in the day," Santo finished, breathing a sigh of relief. "You know, back when I was your age and stuff."

"Whoa," Angelo said. "Santo, that was . . . THE COOLEST THING EVER!"

"Keep your voice down!" Santo hissed. "Look, Mama already knows. But don't tell her that you know."

"I won't tell her," Angelo said. "But I do have to use it to clear my name."

"You're not clearing your name. You did nothing wrong. Just . . . stick up for people when they need it."

(PAUSE)

At the next STEM meeting, the four complained about the snotty Arrow Point science club. "Those kids were jerks," Dante complained, twirling a finger around his braid.

"And they're rubbing my brother in my face," Angelo said.

"Do you even know what he did?" Layla asked.

"Yeah, he told me. He got some remote controlled snakes and snuck them onto the stage with them. While they were freaking out, he set the sprinklers off and they were drenched. He got expelled and had to go to a different school," Angelo said. "Every child in my family is banned from Arrow Point."

Yujin gasped. "Even your adorable little sister?"

"Yes, even her." Angelo chuckled.

"They banned such a sweetheart?" Yujin gasped. "How evil!"

"She probably wasn't even born yet," Layla sniggered. "Although that is pretty harsh, now that I say that."

"I hope we don't have to work with them," Dante said. "They are way too high-energy for me."

And they laughed together.

(PAUSE)

They weren't out of the woods yet. As they walked out of school together, Angelo was collected by his brother and sister. Santo was wearing his spiked denim battle vest, contrasting Mirella's puffy pink dress. Unfortunately for them, Melanie saw this.

"AHA!" Melanie exclaimed, pointing at Angelo with a smug grin. "I always knew that Angelo Riva was a troublemaker! Just look at his brother!"

"Leave him alone!" Yujin yelled, using herself as a shield between Angelo and Melanie.

"Leave my little brother alone," Santo said, staring Melanie down.

"Yeah, what the hell, Melanie? You're not even a prefect any more," Layla said. Melanie gasped and stepped aside.

"How dare you! I am doing my best to ensure that this school doesn't go down the gutter, and you're just bringing street rats here!"

"Don't call my brother a street rat!" Angelo yelled.

"Come on, let's go," Santo said, dragging Angelo and Mirella away.

"I don't like that lady," Mirella said.

"Me neither," Angelo said.

(PAUSE)

"What kept you?" Angelo's mother asked.

"The mean lady," Mirella said.

"What mean lady?" Mrs Riva asked.

"This prefect girl from my school. She called my brother a street rat," Angelo said.

"She said what?" Angelo's mother looked at them with horror. "Who did it? Angelo, tell me who said that."

"This girl. Her name's Melanie Sainsbury," Angelo said.

"Great. And how do you spell that?" she asked, getting out a piece of paper and a pen. "I'm reporting her to the school."

"I don't think they'll do anything," Angelo said, sighing. "Santo's not a student."

"I'm not, but you are," Santo said. "Mama, make the call. Angie, after you tell Mama how to spell that girl's name, you can play with Mirella."

"Fine," Angelo said, scribbling something down so his mother could call the school and complain later. "That's it. Now leave me alone."

"That was all we wanted," Santo said, as he watched Angelo take Mirella upstairs.

"Angie, I wanna go to school with you when I grow up," Mirella said.

"Really? Why?" Angelo asked.

"So I can be in class with you and your friends," Mirella said.

"Mirella, that's the sweetest thing!" Angelo scooped his little sister up in a hug. "Can you promise me something, though?"

"Uh-huh."

"When you're my age, make good friends, don't get in trouble and be nice to people. OK?"

"OK!" Mirella said.

And just like that, Angelo figured that everything would be OK.

To read the other parts of this fic, see Masterlist.

[billconrad]

We Live Like Kings and That’s Hard to Write About

    One hundred years ago, the year was 1923; the Roaring Twenties. People were optimistic about the future, making lots of money and having a blast. Yet, not really. Life was hard, medical care was basic, information was scarce, the stock market was about to crash, and people were not aware of the harm they were causing.

    Since 1923, we developed technology that improved our lives, grew as a society and understood our prior mistakes. Now, we have more respect for the people around us, know about the problems in society, and are actively working on improvement. Here are some improvement examples:

    I can go to my local supermarket and purchase inexpensive pasta from Italy, tangerines from Mexico, maple syrup from Canada, and water chestnuts from China. If I was in the Eiffel Tower in Paris, I could video chat with my somebody in the Eiffel Tower replica in Vegas. I can use the Wikipedia application on my phone to look up what year Nelson Mandela was born, what movie received the tenth Academy Award, where prairie dogs live, and all about the small English town Kingsbridge. If I get cancer, a broken bone, or an infection, doctors can usually help. An event can happen in front of me, and I can record it with my smartphone. After I post it (with one click), in under an hour, over a billion people can view that video. Our phones even warn us about earthquakes, fires, power outages, and traffic. And the most mind-shattering aspect of these developments is that not one person found this paragraph impressive.

    That is a significant problem for writers. Where is the conflict, the struggle, or the dilemma? “Steve was in trouble. He knew nothing about Kingsbridge.” Umm… Steve can easily learn about that topic on his smartphone. Well, Steve could lose it. Umm… He could ask a nearby person; everybody has a smartphone.

    Now, hold on. There are still gigantic problems like homelessness. Umm… Everybody knows about it, and many people are working on solutions. In time, this problem will come under control. Want some proof that we can solve an epic problem? The air quality in Los Angeles used to be out of control. Since the ‘30s, people have understood the issue and began solving it. I recall going there in the ‘70s, and my eyes watered. Now, I can spend the day in Los Angeles without issue.

    It is a struggle for an author to invent a legitimate conflict. “Sally was watching television, and a robber broke down her door.” Umm… Did she call the police? Did Sally’s wireless security cameras capture the incident? Did her insurance company pay for the damages? Did Sally take a picture of the robber, post it, and have thousands of people look at the image?

    Now, conflict requires precise circumstances to get around society’s advances. Readers know about present technology, what they can buy, what is possible, facts, statistics, geography, history, news, biology, physics, literature, fiction, and current events. Readers do not accept oversights, mistakes, racism, sexism, bad morals, copying existing work (intentional or not), lazy writing, or uncompelling concepts.

    Plus, we have imagined so many things. How about a Star Trek teleporter? “Scotty pressed the button and beamed Kirk from the planet to his starship.” That sentence is easy to understand, and the impossible science does not mystify anybody.

    Besides the advances, people get exposed to so much. I remember in the ‘70s seeing a man wearing pink fingernail polish. That was so outrageous! But now? 3.7 MILLION videos get uploaded to YouTube and 34 MILLION to TikTok daily. As a result, every possible aspect, view, alteration, outfit, personality, sexuality, death, life, setting, and location of the human body has been thoroughly explored, exploited, created, and destroyed. This wealth of explored situations makes creating something that surprises anybody extremely difficult. He wore fingernail polish AND earrings? Yeah, no.

    These advances have introduced an endless number of pitfalls. “Stan got lost.” Today, nobody can get lost. The author must explain that Stan forgot his smartphone, there were no road signs, nobody was around, and there were no recognizable landmarks. “Tara arrived in Germany and could not ask for help.” Wrong! Many people in Germany speak English, and a basic internet search would educate the author. Plus, nearly all phones now come with a language transaction application.

    This society of kings has an additional problem for writers. Amazon releases over 1.4 MILLION self-published books through its Kindle Direct Publishing every year. While good for readers, I must compete with this vast sea of books.

    Yet, living like a king is not all bad. Our advances make it easier to publish, get the word out, and connect with people. In fact, I’m doing that right now.

    You’re the best -Bill

    November 29, 2023

    Hey book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[motownfiction]

he lives in the sky

After Sam’s funeral, Emma decides he lives in the sky.

It’s not the first time she’s thought that about somebody, let alone Sam. When she was very little, she didn’t really understand how geography worked, despite playing Madeline’s European Adventures on the computer almost every night. She thought that any place that was far away – any place you needed to take an airplane to get to – must be somewhere in the sky. So, when people would ask her things like, “Where do your grandparents live?” and “Where do Sadie and Sam live?” Emma would always point to the sky, like that answered anybody’s question. To her, it did. To her, it still does.

She has always thought of the sky when she has thought of Sam (and the other way around). Her best memories of Sam all involve the sky somehow. She remembers looking out at the harvest moon at the very end of the summer, right between Daddy and Sam, gazing at the sky like it was going to give her the meaning of life (and maybe, in some fraction of a way, it did). She remembers how he taught her to love the moon … that the sun had its place, but the moon … there was something special about the kinds of people who understood it. He used the sky to make Emma feel special … to make her feel bigger and smaller than she’d ever felt before, and in all the best ways. Sam was the sky, and the sky was Sam. Neither would have had it any other way.

Emma takes a look at the sky as she walks home from school one afternoon. She’s holding Daddy’s hand, and they’re trying to go fast. But Emma just can’t stop looking up. Daddy’s chuckling. It’s a good sign, Emma thinks. It’s been more than a month since they went to Michigan for Sam’s funeral, and the last time Daddy laughed was Christmas, before he knew about the accident, before Sam was dead. It’s good to hear him laugh, Emma thinks, even if he’s kind of laughing at her.

He squeezes her hand three times, and Emma knows what it means. 

I. Love. You.

“Look at you, looking up at the sky,” Daddy says. “You’re acting more and more like Elenore everyday. Sweet girl.”

Emma smiles, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t want to upset Daddy by telling him she’s thinking about Sam … where to go to find him. She thinks maybe if they get in an airplane, they’ll be able to see him, tap dancing on a cloud, just like he was born to do. But she doesn’t say anything. They were on a plane in January, after all, and they didn’t see him then.

She looks up at the sky one more time and decides Sam really does live in the sky.

It’s the only reason he wouldn’t want to come back down.

[oldgooddaysoldgooddays]

155

Would it even be Friday without the threat of a lawsuit? And if it’s for eating two lunches, one at noon and again at three, take me to court! But it wasn’t. I can’t talk about it. I can barely talk about not being able to talk about it. Ryan Giggs would call this a superinjunction, my grandmother would call it unjust yenta-targeting. I tell G I’m on some Saturn return quest for TRUTH as I edge towards 30, but really I’ve been watching too much Gossip Girl I paint in the morning, the giant self portrait with a Korean face mask and a bukkake energy, which nobody seems as impressed by as I am. K comes in and does not note it. We discuss injuries to the vaginal canal and how maybe Prince Albert piercings aren’t worth the hassle. A fifty year old’s tired sexual dexterity vs a millennial’s misplaced energy. I talk about sex as though I have it, and as though I want it. J texts about someone we dislike dying “by eclectic chair” and I know he means electric chair but that he’s also my interior designer. It is perfect. K and I order Indian food and she devours naan bread, shows me her neck acne - the inevitable curse of being a wasp and kissed a lot by a man with facial hair. She seems in love. “I think I’d like a first marriage soonish”, she says J - another J - arrives to hang out later than planned, bringing with him complaints of London geography and a fake British accent he breaks into every other sentence. He tells me about a high school friend who became an air steward in order to “fuck older women in airports”. It rains suddenly and heavily outside and we have to shout over it. He says he’s going to try to have my work faked for my thirtieth birthday, present me with a counterfeit Issy Wood painting. I only know J a little but now suspect he has the talent for gift-giving - a gift for gifts - that I have long tried to adopt. It’s a skill centred around listening for people’s seemingly throwaway wishes and logging them for up to 11 months. My mother, for example, has it down. Other parts of my family are given to sending out lists, blunting the magic. I’m so unimaginative I actually do best with this cold order. Often I wonder whether I care about anybody at all, if anything is sacred. Perhaps I’m capable of murder? J is describing a childhood fear of appendicitis, and asks me whether straight men get upset if I make more money than they do. I say maybe, since to some, net worth is the dick size of masculine value. The dick size you can show people without being arrested. He says I should be on the Bachelor. It stops raining Later when I’m in the bath an eBay seller from whom I’m buying old copies of Nest magazine writes to say they have been affected by hurricane Ian and so the shipping might be delayed. Damn