#everything in the house is whole wheat

[foldingfittedsheets]

So my trip to New Jersey is off to an auspicious start (withering sarcasm). My betrothed and I couldn’t pack lunches and had to get it at the airport. Then we were left at the mercy of their dad bringing us something to eat when he picked us up.

He offered to bring hoagies. My betrothed and I were both dismayed. They like a hoagie just fine but I hate cold cuts, and in general the only sandwiches I like are warm ones that I must eat warm because Food Temperature is a thing for me. I doubt he’s heard of bahn mi and I don’t know how popular it is on the east coast anyway. But the act of saying to their dad: “She doesn’t like hoagies,” is a whole can of worms neither of us want to open. (We are trying our damndest to avoid talking about my food sensitivities as relates to autism. He is a psychiatrist with mountains of prejudice around the word.)

So they ask me what I’d like him to bring instead and I looked at them with the sad wet eyes of a creechur past their limits because the airport is stressful and I was overwhelmed. They decide a bagel and cream cheese would be good and I’m so relieved and happy that they’re so smart.

And he says. “All the places that sell them are closed. Would she just like granola?”

No. No I would not like granola to be my whole dinner. What I’d really like is a massive burger but that would violently offend his yuppy health sensibilities and he’s in no way equipped to actually feed me something that substantive.

We start bargaining with this man. Over where to get a bagel. He hits us with “But they’re a breakfast food,” and, “If I can’t find one I’ll just bring granola.”

Every conversation with him is his quiet judgment that we can’t live on kale chips, granola, and vegetarian protein drinks like he does. But he did manage to bring me a bagel.

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[lucyandalexiafan]

blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything. 

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms. 

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed. 

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl" 

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body. 

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want. 

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin. 

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me" 

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut" 

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact. 

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

[anthonys237thfreckle]

Love in Oklahoma - Javier ‘Javi’ x F! reader

prompt: javi and his girl bought a small farm in Oklahoma, reworked it and adopted little nancy!

TW: mentions of injury, implications of smut

i saw @tempesttamers make a post about seeing anthony ramos with nancy and they needed a javi fic who has a miniature cow named nancy lol. it was such a cute idea, so thanks for that!

Whenever it wasn’t tornado season down in Oklahoma, the excitement was buzzing for the next one. Everyone round the bonfire of another cheap motel, all the storm chasers would gather and share stories of chasing a twister or two, the failures, close calls, successes… reminiscing the adrenaline high everyone felt in their own way.

But you and Javi had no place to stay apart from those motels. Your homes were far away from the southwest, and though storm season was over, Javi still needed to do a lot of research and analytics for storm patterns, their paths, conditions, humidity levels and even sometimes forecasts. Storm Par was busy all year.

Since he dragged you from your own job in the city down to Tornado Alley, you felt like you belonged down there, among the wheat fields, cheap food, thick humid air and wide skies; you and Javi would stargaze at times, and they seemed brighter down there for two reasons. One, there was no pollution for them to shy away behind and two, Javi was there - the man who seemed to make everything brighter.

So rather than stay basically homeless, Javi saved up some money and bought a little house with a farm. Barely half the size of a football field, it was selling for pretty cheap, so you Javi bought it for the two of you.

It wasn’t grand, but you two loved it very much. A small, simple, two story farmhouse with a porch, wide and welcoming, its wooden steps leading up to the red-brick house. Inside, it was definitely in need of some handiwork, but it was inviting nonetheless. After all, blank walls are nothing but a canvas to store potential. Dark stained wooden floorboards run throughout, giving it a rustic elegance. Though scuffed by generations of footsteps, they were very well polished. The kitchen, an open wide space, the heart of the home, had a traditional water pump basin and sink. You grinned when you saw it, turning to Javi who raised his eyebrows in shock and chuckled quietly, shaking his head in amusement. The sink sat beneath a window with a picturesque view of the backyard. White wooden cabinets adorned the walls, giving the kitchen its own light. Though the house was partially furnished, providing you with a large, rectangular dining table, some vintage pantry cabinets, and some sturdy chairs the previous owners left behind.

The second floor was led by some creaking wooden steps, and after climbing the short flight, you were met with a master bedroom with a large window overlooking the front yard, connected to a bathroom with checkered floor tiles, one of your new favourite things. They had a normal tap unlike the kitchen basin downstairs, and large mirror with some storage units and a shower. The other room, another bedroom, was smaller in comparison, but still had a window and a large bookshelf covering one whole wall. The other bathroom, almost as large as a room itself, was spacious, with two sinks, a rainshower, and bathtub.

Needless to say, you two fell in love with the house.

Once you two moved in, you both started to rework the place a little. Javi invited some close friends from Storm par and you invited Kate and the Tornado Wranglers to held paint the walls. Once that was done, everyone went out for dinner at a local diner, letting the stench of fresh paint air out. 2 weeks of relentless reworking went by, the crew made everything a lot faster; the house was homely, cozy, inviting. A bit of a contrast to the two city people you two were, but all the hard work made it all the more impressive. All your old stuff was shifted in, the crew helping you move all the heavy furniture, then left you two to do your own thing. Once everything was furnished, you both fell asleep on your shared bed upstairs, holding each other close.

After a day of rest, you both spent from sunrise to sunset out on the farm. Javi drove you to the farmer’s market, finding people who sold nearly mature crops with the purpose of repotting. You both bought 3 tomato plants - one in each colour: purple, red and yellow - 2 cucumbers, some Napa cabbage, romaine lettuce, arugula, some raspberry and blueberry shrubs. Once back the sun was high, you both slathered some sunscreen on and spent hours outside, repotting everything into the fertile southwestern soil.

The Tornado Wranglers came over for housewarming, bearing gifts; Kate bought you a pot of flowers, with her own recipe for a fertilizer which wasn’t damaging. Tyler brought a handmade sign saying ‘Not our first farmhouse!’ with the ‘Not’ crossed out in red paint. You accepted it with a laugh, and Javi just rolled his eyes playfully. Boone bought you both a vintage polaroid camera, and you had the idea of taking a photo of everyone who visited this house, and sticking it on the wall near the entrance, as a cute little housewarming idea. Lily brought some food, her famous enchiladas. Dani bought you two a weighted blanket and a toolbox, knowing how handy that can get. Dexter bought you two some encyclopedias and books you two would definitely enjoy. Everyone shared laughs and jokes and memories over dinner, and you both realized how this farmhouse really changed your lives.

You both started living a new life together, which contrasted everything before.

You always had a knack for baking and cooking, but only did so occasionally, because you could always buy bread from the supermarket, and you were busy. Now that you had joined Storm Par (once you cornered Javi and Scott into finding ethical investors) you both worked from home, giving you a lot of time for each other, and equally important, yourselves. Now, not a weekend went by when you went on a baking spree, pulling in Javi to help you out leading to flour fights, stolen chaste kisses where he’d lift you onto the counter, and everything in between. You baked sourdough, focaccia, dinner rolls, peanut butter cookies, muffins with fresh blueberries from the yard.

Javi rarely ate breakfast, mostly because he was too lazy or never had the will to eat anything shitty anyways, so every morning he’d be blessed with a platter of fresh herbed butter on sourdough toast, free range eggs from some chickens you both bought, and crispy organic bacon. Now, he claims breakfast is his second favourite meal, and when you ask what comes first, he just gives you a knowing look, which ends up with him getting flicked on the forehead.

All in all, your lives had changed for the better, but it was only about to get even better.

As you both drove back from the farmer’s market one evening, you saw a little curled up black and white creature on the side of the road

“Hey, baby, look..” you pointed over, and his eyes followed yours.

“Is that-” he slammed the breaks, rushing out of the car, you following behind.

It was a baby cow, or a miniature one, and its leg had a horrible gash on it.

“Its owners probably ditched her, pool gal…” He said softly, stroking the calf’s head when he found no ear tag on her.

You and Javi shared a look, and a silent communication went between you two. You needed to help her out.

You rushed over to your trunk, pouring out some milk and giving her some sustenance in the hopes of earning her trust. After carefully lifting her, making sure she didn’t thrash around, Javi put her in the backseat after you put a blanket down. You sat with her, the animals’ head resting in your lap. You drove a little way out of town for a vet, and after a quick checkup, you were given some ointment, and since the calf was abandoned, you both decided to keep it.

“Come on, Nancy” Javi said soothingly, carrying calf back into the car.

“Nancy?” you chuckled “We’re naming her already?”

“Yeah” Javi said with a chuckle “I like Nancy” he smiled, petting the calf’s head

“So do I” You said after a moment of thought. “Let’s get going”

Once everyone was back home, you brought out a wheelbarrow, and Javi put Nancy in there, the both of you gently bringing her to the barn. Once she was settled on a pile of hay, Javi gently tied her neck to a pole, making sure it wasn’t cutting anything off. You brought a bottle of milk with you, feeding her as her big black eyes got drowsier.

“Can I sleep here with her?” Javi asked you with concern.

“In the barn?” you laughed “Seriously?”

“I’m dead serious, (name)” Javi said, a look of determination you couldn’t fight.

“Alright, let me get the limoncello candle” you said in fake annoyance. Javi smiled, and called out.

“Love you, baby!”

—

Once you came back with the lit limoncello candle to ward off any bugs, setting it in the corner, you brought some sleeping bags and a bottle of water and milk, for you two and Nancy.

“I’m sleeping here with you” You said, handing him a sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to..” Javi said softly, never taking his eyes off Nancy as he stoked her head, tracing the blotches of black on her cream fur.

“I want to” you reassured, settling into the sleeping bag. “G’night, Javi” you murmured after giving him a sweet peck on the lips.

“Love you” he said, watching you over his shoulder as you settled in for the night.

“Love you too” you yawned “You know, if you changed your mind-”

“No” He interrupted you stubbornly “I’m staying here with Nancy” He reinforced.

“Whatever you say, baby” you chuckled, closing your own droopy eyes. “Make sure to actually catch some sleep”

“Yeah, I will. I promise” He nodded. “Goodnight, (name), I love you”

“Love you too, Jalapeño” you chuckled “Goodnight”

Javi chuckled at the nickname you loved using, and watched as you fell asleep. He looked over at a now asleep Nancy and smiled. He was so happy he bought this little home with you. He looked over at you again, then crawled over, unzipping the sleeping bag.

“Javier….” you whined “I was falling asleep!”

“Hold on just a second, baby..” He unzipped the sleeping bag, detached the zippers on his own one, and attached the two bags together and crawled inside, zipping it back up.

“Now we can cuddle!” he grinned, and you shook your head with a chuckle, burying your head in his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Okay, now really goodnight.” you murmured with mock annoyance.

“Yeah, really” He chuckled, nodding. “Goodnight, love”.

And with that, you both fell asleep in the barn, in each other’s arms, alongside your new companion. Javi dreamt of your lives progressing in this little farmhouse, filling it up with kids, maybe a German Shepherd… ironically, the house did have a white picket fence too, which made everything all the more cliche. But he didn’t care how much of a sap he was around you - since you seemed to love it anyway. Your lives had gotten so much.. lovelier.

If anything, you both found more love here, in Oklahoma.

[lionhanie]

boynextdoor playing minecraft! (ot6 hc)

what happens when boynextdoor starts a minecraft server?

word count: 1.2k i think

genre + warnings: crack LOL, cursing, written in lowercase, typos

a/n: this is so stupid LMAO. (i was playing mc earlier whos gonna match my freak)

reblogs ↺ + feedback always appreciated!

featuring… sungho as numberonecatdad! riwoo as LeeSanghyeok! (he didn’t know he was making his username when he made the account. literal full government name out there)  jaehyun as myungj4e! taesan as GiantMountain! leehan as 212121_! woonhak as xxBlockBeastxx2006! (he made it in 4th grade. says he keeps the name for the nostalgia he doesnt know how to change it)  

→ Join Server?

☆ sungho: the builder

i feel like sungho wouldn’t really be interested in playing mc “seriously” but BOYYYY get him into creative and he’s locking the hell in. ik he does NOT play when it comes to building The Ultimate Spruce Wood Base

he got sick of seeing jaehyun build dirt huts as shelter in their worlds so he took on the role of being the MAIN BUILDER… main vocal? yeah. main builder is his TRUE calling. but i genuinely think he’d be good at it LOL his attention to detail is insane

making entire mansions in survival except he doesn’t even collect the blocks himself. he just waits til people come home with them and he steals them for his builds

In the chat… numberonecatdad: who made this farm by my house 212121_: me and riwoo 212121_: y???? numberonecatdad: … LeeSanghyeok: wjats wrong with it :( numberonecatdad: it’s … so bad LeeSanghyeok: it took us 2 hrs to make btw 212121_: okay but it works numberonecatdad: HALF THE CROPS ARE TRAMPLED numberonecatdad: stay away. leave this to me

the next day its a full fledged farm. windmill in the background. beautiful fields of potatoes and wheat surrounded by a pretty fence. flowers adorning the whole thing. true masterpiece 

☆ riwoo: the noob

i think he’s not really the type to play games like mc. like give him tiny tower or something and he’s at like 400 floors.. neko atsume? he got all the cats unlocked. but MINECRAFT? idk i feel like he’s just 🙂 when he plays bc he has no idea what’s going on

everyone will be off adventuring on their own.. minding their business.. and then there's a death message in the chat saying riwoo died to something so incredibly random. everyone is just like ??? bc wdym you died to a berry bush

the members think its so cute how he’s just… there for the ride! but they can’t help but mess around with riwoo because he is truly lost  & blindly trusts everything they tell him bc he doesn’t know any better

In the chat… 212121_: riwoo stand right there LeeSanghyeok: why 212121_: ima show u a cool easter egg LeeSanghyeok: okie ^_^ LeeSanghyeok was squashed by a falling anvil. LeeSanghyeok: wat was the easter egg LeeSanghyeok: i dont get it xxBlockBeastxx2006: LKSJKJFHKJSnfd;sf GiantMountain: oh riwoo GiantMountain: if u left click u can pet the bees and they heal u LeeSanghyeok: rlly? thats cool i wanna try myungj4e: DONT DO IT LeeSanghyeok was stung to death. numberonecatdad: leave that poor boy ALONE

after that, riwoo learns to be cautious of the maknae line.... he just stays with sungho collecting flowers for his builds or lighting up the caves jaehyun explores and running from the mobs :,)

☆ jaehyun: the miner

jaehyun is definitely the type to go straight to mining when you start up a new world. the second everyone sees "myungj4e has just earned the achievement [Acquire Hardware]" they KNOW he's clocking into his full time job in the mines bye

it’s 30 mins in and he has half a set of diamond armor to his name and they’re like ?? bro we just started can you be fr rn… if any of the members ask for materials he won’t do it unless he’s getting something out of it (don’t tell anyone but he made riwoo a set of diamond tools when everyone is still using iron 😍 true romance i think)

lowkey everyone is convinced he has x-ray installed or something bc of how good he is at mining

In the chat… numberonecatdad: can i get three diamonds for a new pickaxe myungj4e: lmao NO  myungj4e: wat do i get in return numberonecatdad: how do you live in a dirt shack and have diamond armor GiantMountain: embarrassing.... myungj4e: okay making fun of the less fortunate now??? numberonecatdad: ill build u a house if u give me diamonds myungj4e: k fine  xxBlockBeastxx2006: OH BUT WHEN I ASK FOR DIAMONDS I DONT GET ANY

at the end of the day tho... he's lowkey a blessing bc if he's feeling nice enough he will hook u up with ANYTHING u need. the boys are spoiled w the way jae's chests are FULL of iron whenever they need it

☆ taesan: the fighter

unironically i think taesan would just be . oddly good at pvp. it’s like one of his random talents LOOOL "good at mc pvp" on his resume LOUD AND PROUD

like you load up into bedwars or something and he’s wiping out teams before you can even get yourself a proper set of armor. its lowkey attractive idk

in your survival world, he’s always instigating fights with the other members in hopes that they’ll want to fight. literally no one can kill him. he can probably 1v5 and still win

In the chat... myungj4e: WHO TOOK THE DIAMONDS FROM MY CHEST WHILE I WAS OFFLINE LeeSanghyeok: it was taesan GiantMountain: …what are u gonna do about it bro. huh. they’re mine now.  myungj4e: bro that was like a full stack. it took me like 3 hours to get them. where the hell are you  GiantMountain: why? you wanna fight for it? GiantMountain: whoever wins keeps the diamonds xxBlockBeastxx2006: oh ur cooked hyung myungj4e: OK DEAL myungj4e was slain by GiantMountain using Diamond Sword.

the way u can hear jaehyun RAGE through the dorm walls brings a smile to taesan's face bc he KNOWS he stays undefeated when it comes to pvp

☆ leehan: the troll

i think he’s similar to riwoo in the sense that he doesn’t rlly know whats going on but once they start their server you know DAMN well he’s looking up Top 15 BEST Ways To ANNOY Your FRIENDS in Minecraft! on youtube.,.. fucking loser (hearts in my eyes as i write this)

they’re usually harmless ones, like filling up jaehyun's chests with junk or renaming sungho's cat to something stupid like “Poopy Fart” or moving all of woonhak's cows from their pen

but ohh… if you piss him awf BADDD i think he would do some DIABOLICAL damage to the world. like imagine taesan is Also Trolling and he kills leehan before taking all of his stuff and running away into the distance. things would be quiet… too quiet…. until next thing u kno theres a whole trap waiting for taesan the second he walks into his house 

In the chat… 212121_: taesan do u still have my fishing rod GiantMountain: ye lol 212121_: can i have it back GiantMountain: LMAO GiantMountain: no 212121_: i think theres a creeper in ur house  GiantMountain: WHAT  GiantMountain was killed by magic while trying to escape 212121_.  numberonecatdad: LOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLL GiantMountain: when the hell did you set that up 212121_: >:)

OKAY YES he spent 46 minutes following a tutorial on how to set up a death chamber full of the WORST potion effects ever ... but it worked so he's sitting at his monitor feelijng like an evil mastermind

☆ woonhak: the sweat

he is like the only one i imagined actually PLAYED minecraft growing up. he unironically enjoys watching minecraft streams too LMAO much like jaehyun, i think woonhak goes straight to mining in survival. except rather than /just/ mining, he’s literally trying to beat the game 

he's usually off on his own doing something but ngl .. i bet he's a backseat gamer when he see's someone doing smth wrong. let's say he's out exploring w riwoo and he's falling SO FAR BEHIND he doesn't know how to sprint he will literally walk into his room to show him how to run

bro probably watched Ender Dragon Speedruns growing up idk i feel like he’s determined to beat the world record (he won’t, but he will definitely try) 

In the chat... xxBlockBeastxx2006 has just earned the achievement [The End?] numberonecatdad: ? 212121_: ?? 212121_: is that what i think it is myungj4e: ../?//???? ?  ??? LeeSanghyeok: wat is that LeeSanghyeok: whys the achievement purple GiantMountain: r u fr rn 212121z: LMAO tryhard alert... xxBlockBeastxx2006: yooo chill we can always respawn it dw myungj4e: HOW DARE U KILL THE ENDERDRAGON WITHOUT US myungj4e: UR FAKE AS HELL xxBlockBeastxx2006 has been banned from the server by myungj4e

woonhak doesn't talk to jaehyun for the rest of the night (he's unbanned the next day, but they force him to restart so he isn't absolutely STACKED)

taglist: @onedoornet @dongminz (ty saki for supporting me with my bonedo mc thoughts LMFAO) @gluion @icyminghao

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[teaboot]

I spent a lot of time alone outdoors growing up.

A lot of time.

It got to the point that some days I'd be sitting in the back of my dull beige classroom, and on the outside I'd be staring out into nothing but on the inside I'd be remembering how it felt being barefoot and knee-deep in sun-warmed mud, cutting my palms and soles to bits against craggy rock, leaning into the wind and screaming into the ocean, sprinting through the woods and standing dead silent in the dark in a wheat field in a thunderstorm, and feeling grit under my nails and bone and wood and rock and metal in my hands

And I'd look around at my stupid, flimsy pressboard desk, and the beige walls, and the grey ceiling, and feel soft, stagnant air circulate through the vents in delicate, dainty little puffs against my cheeks, and listen to kids my age who I couldn't understand and didn't feel connected to talk about things that made my brain go numb and melt out my ears while some fake-smiley adult pretended they knew how I felt

While back home where my siblings didnt know me and my parents didn't like me the house would be dark, empty, and cold, day after day, and the only satisfaction I knew I'd get would be if someone twice my size and three times my age got in my face and fucking tried it,

And I'd think,

This isn't real.

This is designed, and this is weak.

This is cardboard façades with nothing inside, this is tissue paper, this is Styrofoam packing peanuts and puffed rice wafers and the bottom three millimeters of day-old room-temperature water

And I'd get so fucking angry, so frustrated, just so stone-cold livid, helpless and furious, that sometimes I'd start to cry, not because I was sad but because my teeth were soft and round and dull and my fingers felt like they were brand-new pink pearl erasers splitting in half and everything was too much and not enough and all I needed in the whole wild world was to shred the air to pieces for the crime of being too fucking empty, too fucking soft, not *real* enough, like a wild animal clawing into prey only to have puffy cotton candy and soap bubbles spill out, sweet and tasteless and saccharine where it should be hot, bright, loud and solid and sharp.

So when the English teacher- a tall, thin man with glasses who smelled like strong patchouli and liked to ask us to "talk about our feelings" asked me to write about my life, that was what I wrote.

He told me I had a "powerful gift" and smiled, flashing straight, dull, soft round teeth.

I remember he'd ask me every day if he could read my work aloud to the class, every single day, and every day I would say "no", until one afternoon he just took my paper off my desk and did it anyways.

I was a rule-follower. Never broke the rules, never stepped out of line. I would never just leave class in the middle of a lesson, so I guess for a moment I was someone else.

I don't remember hearing him start to speak, but I remember sprinting out the door, hearing it slam behind me, and just not stopping until I was somewhere outside with the grass and the sky and the sun and a ringing inside my head.

After a while, I went back, and by then I guess he'd finished talking.

I sat down at my desk and finished the lesson.

I thought I'd be in trouble or something after that, but nobody mentioned it.

After the bell, I went home to the dark, cold, empty house and waited for something to fight.

That was years ago. Decades, now.

To tell you the truth, though, I don't think anything has changed.

[midnightnautilus]

I think The Great Gatsby is a red herring code-wise.

BUT! If I can be a literary nerd here, the book does have big parallels to Bill.

Our main character, Jay Gatsby, is seemingly the portrait of the man that everyone wants to be. He throws lavish parties, he's seen as the talk of the town, he seems to have everything - and yet, as its revealed in the book, he spent his whole life pining after a girl he only got to be with for a short time before the war, trying to be successful enough for her. He even built his lavish mansion right across from where she lives!

Now, we also have our code's namesake - TJ Eckleburg, a billboard for an optometrist that overlooks a part of town that has basically but overrun by industriliasm and the smog and ash that comes with it.

"This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud which screens their obscure operations from your sight…"

The events that happen within the book are watched by this billboard, and while the rest of its signage has mostly faded, the eyes - surrounded by a pair of yellow spectacles - gaze down on our players.

Now, I think that Bill is both Gatsby and Eckleburg.

He came from humble, flat beginnings (like our Gatsby, who was originally named James Gatz and grew up poor and strived to become something more) and always strived for that horizon, that fleeting glimpse of freedom that he could never get. And instead of accepting his actions, instead of accepting all that he's seen (the all-seeing eyes of Eckleburg gazing down at the passage of time and the destruction of the land around him akin to Bill watching his own dimension burn by his own hand), he decides to live in a fantasy.

He keeps the notion alive that he will be back. That he is too smart, too powerful for these weak fleshy sacks who need the comfort of people. He keeps striving for something he can no longer attain.

boats borne back ceaselessly into the past and all that jazz

[livingincolorsagain]

for @fiprobably’s prompt: Non-AU: Sam and Bucky going shopping for groceries. Except Sam is away and on video call with Bucky, who is the one actually doing the shopping. Them arguing back and forth because why can't Bucky just find that specific orange juice brand Sam likes and how can Sam want to get snacks that high in calories they're supposed to be snacks not protein bars and Bucky is so goddamn insistent on the canned peaches and Sam isn't having any of it there is literally fresh peaches over there—

Bucky doesn’t like grocery shopping. He hates it, actually. He would rather do the laundry, or the dishes. He loves doing work in the backyard, or cleaning up the garage. Anything but the groceries.

That’s why it was mostly Sam’s job. Sam doesn’t mind it, Bucky is certain he actually likes it. He writes down a list and plays his shopping playlist—because Sam has a playlist for everything—and he pauses his music to make small talk with everyone and gets a lot of free samples and freshly baked goods for it.

But Sam has been running a fever since he came back from his latest mission a few days ago, and despite the fact that he keeps saying he’s fine and he can do it, he actually can’t stay awake for more than a few hours at a time, and even going to the bathroom is an effort, so leaving the house is out of question.

Bucky can’t really hold off grocery shopping any longer. The fridge is starting to look kind of sad, and the pantry is running low on everything, and if Sam was to actually leave the bed and check the kitchen he would side-eye Bucky to hell, because Bucky, you’re a Wilson now and no Wilson household should look like that.

So, after he gives Sam his pills and checks his temperature one last time, Bucky puts his best pair of sweatpants, Sam’s old sweatshirt and his bravest face on, and makes the short drive to the grocery store.

It’s a random Wednesday morning, so the parking lot isn’t full. Bucky grabs a cart and pulls out the list. He’s barely inside the store when his phone starts vibrating. He pulls it out of his pocket, frowning with worry when he sees it’s Sam video-calling him.

“Everything’s okay?”

Sam’s face is half buried in the pillow, his one visible eye barely open, and when he says, “I’m making sure you’re getting the right stuff,” his voice is croaked and small.

Bucky snorts even as his heart twists fondly.

Sam makes a small noise of protest. “You always get the wrong orange juice.”

“It happened once.”

“And it was awful.”

“They were out of the brand you like, and it was years ago, can you let it go?”

“It’s burned into my brain.”

Bucky lowers the phone as he bites back a smile. “Jesus, fine.”

So, that’s how it goes. Sam supervises as Bucky goes from one aisle to another, arguing about every single item Bucky chooses, because no, Bucky, that’s the worst kind of beans and get the whole wheat spaghetti instead and wait, I can’t see, go back. No, that's too far. Go back a little. A bit down. Y’know what? Just take a picture and send it to me.

Bucky can’t stop smiling.

“Don’t forget the snacks,” Sam says, yawning. Alpine moews in the background. “Bring Alpine some snacks too.”

“She already has a lot of snacks.”

Sam lifts his head a little off the pillow and turns it away from the camera to what Bucky assumes is Alpine napping on Bucky’s side of the bed. “Daddy says no snacks for you, baby.”

Bucky sputters. “I didn’t say— fine!”

Sam smiles, burying his face back into the fluffy pillow. “That’s what I thought.”

Bucky shakes his head, but he can’t stop smiling, because Sam’s eyes are drooping and he’s fighting it. “Go take your nap, I’m almost done anyway.”

Sam stubbornly opens his eyes wider. “No.”

“I only have the snacks and cat litter left, there’s no way I’m gonna mess that up.”

“But—“

“Sam.”

“Fine,” Sam says. “Love you.”

Bucky’s smile grows. “Love you, too.”

“Salt and vinegar chips.”

“I know, Sam.”

“Just making sure.”

“I’m hanging up.”

He hears Sam laughing just as the call cuts off.

check out this post if you wanna send me a prompt!

[for-quill-with-love]

The robin found it's way inside this morning. I'd fed it enough, apparently. I'd already been calling it 'Soot' in my head for some reason.

I set her seeds on the windowsill where she was perched, and she sang her little morning song as she ate.

I was going to make a farm today.

I made myself a hoe and a couple of buckets for water, and as I was checking my comm for messages I found the map. It was new to have a map right in my comm, instead of needing to make one from paper.

And there was this new thing it called a waypoint. I was able to mark my front door with it, and it showed up on the map and in my identifier camera.

Clever. And useful.

I decided to put the farm in the valley below my house, pushing the dirt around to get a flat area to work with and lugging water from the village's farms as it was the closest water I could find.

It was hard work. Familiar, in the way that all of this was familiar to me. I had set up farms like this before; I had the muscle memory for raking my hoe through the dirt to til the soil.

I knew how far apart to plant the melon and pumpkin seeds to give them the best chance to thrive.

But I had a lot of different things to plant, and I wasn't sure how the new ones would grow.

After making sure everything was saturated, I dug through my chests for any and every kind of seed I'd picked up along the way.

There was one that showed up as "tomato" on my comm, that I didn't remember picking up from anywhere. It might have come from the village, I wasn't sure.

It was some sort of vine, though. Maybe it was like the melons and pumpkins? I planted it along the edge just in case.

Corn went next, and then the potatoes and carrots and onions. The onions had come from the ground like a root vegetable, so surely that's how they grew.

And after punching all the grass I had to clear a spot for my farm, I'd found enough seeds to plant a whole section of wheat!

I would probably need more, if I really wanted to have enough for both me and also the animals I'd need to round up later.

I pushed my hair out of my face, wishing once again that I had some way to tie it up and away. Maybe I could do something with the silk I'd been collecting. It seemed too sticky and too fragile to really do much with.

There was a buzz from my comm, and I checked it to see the new message that'd appeared and--

Well, surely I wasn't--

I couldn't find it. I knew all comms worked like that, I had to have a way to get on or off world.

It was gone from this one.

I hadn't noticed, not with the new map and the recipes and the way to identify what I came across. There was no way for me to be able to get off this world. I didn't even have a was to see the address of this one.

Bands of iron were wrapped around my chest and shrinking, tighter than the iron chestplate had sat on my shoulders.

I couldn't stop my eyes from darting, my hand grasping for an axe that wasn't in it's normal spot on my belt. I didn't have a belt on right now. I darted back up the hill, tripping over my feet.

The rest of the day was a blur.

Numb and fuzzy and muffled, like I'd taken on an elder guardian without milk or a fast way through the walls of prismarine.

I couldn't hear anything beyond the thick, sticky silence. I couldn't focus on what was in front of me, the world painted blobs of green and blue and gray.

There was blood in my mouth, like licking a lightning rod after a storm. It fizzed in a way that made my stomach rebel, something that should have been accompanied with the sour-sweet of--

Of something. I'd used my fangs for violence before, not just to tear roast chicken apart to eat.

I was fire on netherrack, blue ice pressing in from all sides and yet the burning refused to leave.

The blue ice won.

I was snuffed out, water dumped on a lava pool and turning me dark and cold and silent.

The world was dark and cold and silent.

I didn't know where I was. And my comm was gone, probably dropped in the grass when I'd--

When I'd done whatever it was that had landed me here.

I curled up in the dark, too tired to think right and too numb to care about the danger that surely should have come from being in a place like this.

This could all be dealt with later. After-- after I'd gotten my thoughts in order

[yacinthemorning]

A Secret Third Thing

Summary: A conversation with Cleo and Scott causes Tango to ponder the nature of relationships and what Jimmy is to him. In a very Tango manner, of course.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (Undefined relationship)

Warnings: Anxiety

“I’m pretty sure your husband’s about to do something stupid.”

Tango blinked, like the cogs in his brain suddenly jammed. It took several long seconds for it to restart, during which Cleo lifted an eyebrow at the stupefied blazeborn. She pointed over his shoulder towards the fields where Scott was already looking. Of course, he felt the arrow stab into not-his-shoulder before he processed the sight of Jimmy fighting off two mobs, trying to lead them away from the cow who grazed obliviously next to them. He stumbled, and the creeper began to charge. Luckily, before it could go off he smacked it into one of the many shallow ravines, and the ranchers only took a small bit of damage from the explosion. 

Tango’s tail curled anxiously, but he knew Jimmy wasn’t helpless. He would be able to take care of the skeleton long before Tango made it to him. Instead he juggled the logs in his arms in order to pull out a steak to help his soulmate from afar. “I- I think he’s good for now.” He said with a nervous laugh, gaze returning to his trading partners. He quirked a grin that he hoped wasn’t too awkward. “But I thought you guys were over that?”

A confused frown accompanied the second stack of logs from the pair. “What?” Scott asked.

“Your, uh, what was it?” He tilted his head, feigning poor memory to cover his nerves. “The whole flower husbands thingy, didn’t you- like, uh… Maybe divorce isn’t the right word…”

“It’s fine? We did.”

“I was talking to you, Tango.” Cleo clarified, brows knit.

Tango’s brain rebooted a second time with a strangled noise escaping him and a spasm vibrating through his tail. He felt his face light up. “What- M- No! Nonono, he’s not my husband!” His pitch was all over the place, crackling with the flames in his hair. “We’re not- We’re ranchin’ buddies, we don’t got that sort of schtick going…”

“Riiight.” Cleo rested a hand on her hip. Skeptical. Her gaze was far too skeptical.

“Right!” He nodded anyway. He wanted to hide behind the logs in his arms, but he was pretty sure they would light on fire if he did. Tango couldn’t return home empty handed just to explain that he burnt the logs they were using to replace the ones burnt by Scar. “That’s, uh, right.”

Scott sighed. “You know, I don’t care, right? I only bully you guys cause it’s fun, I don’t have anything against your relationship.”

“Never thought so!” Tango squeaked, taking a few steps back. How could he get out of this conversation without looking like he was running away? “We just, you know, aren’t… like… that . We’re… We’re ranchers!”

Both soulmates-by-choice exchange a glance before shrugging. “Uh-huh. Well, good luck with that, then.” Scott muttered.

“Yep! Thanks for the wood!” And then Tango bolted. He didn’t stop his full-speed sprint until he was well over the bridge and into the open fields. He peaked over his shoulder, as if he could expect Scott or Cleo to chase him down. 

He took a deep sigh of fresh midnight air. It was silly, what was there to be worried about? He traded leather for the wood fair and square. Any extra was a pity gift on their part. They were friends, for the time being at least. Everything was fine, all fine.

With assurance he started his walk back to the ranch. 

He got two steps before the sight of the stone walls melted it all away. 

Jimmy was visible over it, still wrangling stray cows back into their pen within the burnt ranch house. There must have been a kerfuffle, because the back of his pants were coated in mud and ash. One of the cows had latched onto the wheat stalks in his hand while he was distracted, and they now played tug-of-war with them. 

Any other day it might have been a warming sight, something to chuckle over. He would walk over and force him to stop, partly out of concern and partly because it was cold which meant time for cuddles. Now, though, Tango could feel his muscles tense while his conversation with Scott and Cleo replayed in his mind.

I don’t have anything against your relationship.

Those words brought on a lot of emotions, but Tango wasn’t sure he even knew what they were. Just… a lump in his chest. Most certainly he didn’t know how to feel about what Scott and Cleo seemed to think was going on. It’s not like they’ve ever done anything, especially not in front of other players. Was there something else about how they acted that gave off that impression?

“Well, if that’s how we act, nobody gave me the memo.” He chuckled to himself as he forced another step, but it died pretty quickly. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it sounded exactly like the sort of ridiculous situation he would get himself into somehow. 

Bugs filled his chest. He clutched at the front of his shirt as he took another peek towards the ranch. Jimmy had finally gotten the cows into their pen and was now trying to salvage some of the wood that was left from the looks of it. 

Did Jimmy think they were… That? Had he been showing signs and Tango managed to stumble right past them like a fool? Accidentally leading him on? If he did then Tango didn’t quite know what to do. He would hate to break the canary’s heart. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Did he? The more he thought about it the more confused he felt. He liked the guy, liked being around him and seeing him smile and working with him to steal horses and acquire horns. That was about as far as he could sparse for certain. Was that… husband things to like? 

He liked similar things about his other friends too, though… Was he actually being weird around everyone and nobody had ever told him? He shook his head, he had more than enough blunt friends for that to not be the case. But then why…

Well, he liked whatever they had now, he was pretty sure. Maybe he should just ask Jimmy what that was and roll with it?

But his feet wouldn’t move closer to the ranch. Maybe he should take a short stroll around the server and clear his head. “Yeah… A nice long short stroll.” He muttered as he spun around back towards the border.

So, he walked. And walked. The box loomed ominously in the dark. He walked a little faster. It was nice, but it wasn’t helping like he hoped it would.

In the distance he spotted something bright, even in the night. It wasn’t a torch or lantern, but the home soaked up every sliver of moonlight offered to it. His tail perked up at the sight of a familiar face tending to the garden outside it. Impulse looked up at the sound of footsteps, relaxing quickly into a smile when he realized it was just Tango. “Hey there, buddy.” He greeted.

“Hey, how ya doin’?” Tango asked back, offering his friend a helping hand onto his feet.

Impulse dusted his knees off. “Just some late-night gardening, what are you up to? Collecting gunpowder?”

“Something like that. Thinking, making plans.” He smirked, wiggling his fingers ominously. It got a laugh. 

The front door suddenly burst open, a sword swinging out. “Ha, you think you can sneak up on us! I got ya, youuu- oh. Hi Tango.” Bdubs stumbled out completely, lowering his sword. “I thought you was those younguns who keep stealing from us. Where’s Jimmy?”

“Just little ol’ me this time.” Tango shook his head. Impulse left his side to join Bdubs instead, arm wrapping around the shorter’s shoulder. With the backdrop of the mid-modern century home the two looked like one of those too-happy families in an old advertisement. Well, if the family just got back from a brawl they sorely lost. “He’s back at the ranch cleaning up. I’m just going around collecting resources for us.”

“Oh.” Bdubs put a hand to his chest, pulling his best sad face. “So you haven’t been keeping an eye on him?”

“Nah, goes faster if we split the work. And we got him a pretty good sword the other day so he can protect himself.” Tango shrugged. “Speaking of, you got any spare iron? I’m gonna need it for some… very special plans.”

“Oh, oh sure! Yeah, we got a little. Anything for our favourite redstone buddy. Right Impulse?” Bdubs looked to his soulmate, who gave him a confused look before he nodded. 

“Right! Yeah, I’ll go get it right now! Sit tight.”

With that Impulse went back into the house. Tango raised an eyebrow as he popped out of the window to share a thumbs up with Bdubs, but the bleach-blond quickly turned back to him with a serious face. “So, Tango…”

“Yeah?”

Bdubs paused, then shook his head as if he were steeling himself. “You know, I was out earlier by the ranch and… Oh, I’m not really sure I should say…”

“Bdubs? Keeping a secret? Sacrilege!” Tango laughed. It quickly died as Bdubs approached, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“That soulmate of yours, you should really watch your back around him.” He warned. “I’m telling you this as a friend, Tango. That guy… You can’t trust him.”

Tango tilted his head in skepticism. “Oh really? What he do?”

Impulse came back out at that moment, a handful of iron ingots in his arms. Bdubs glanced back at him, gaping dramatically. “Oh, well, you know… It would just be too heartbreaking to even say! All sorts of things! Listen, Tango.” He grabbed Tango’s other shoulder. Impulse was clearly trying not to laugh. “Tango, you’ve been our friend for a long time, and we care about you! If you ever feel unsafe, you got a place here. You got that? Just say the word!” 

The hands were slowly removed, Tango backing away to go get his iron. “I thhhink I’m good, but thanks.” He grinned. “I’m pretty sure I can trust Jimmy.”

Bdubs stared hard into his eyes, before his face fell completely. “This ain’t working one bit, is it?”

“Nah.”

“Dang it!” He kicked at the earth while Impulse and Tango chuckled. “I shoulda had Impulse say it, it’s cause it’s me ain’t it? Impulse woulda got ya!”

Tango folded his arms. “Nuh-uh! No way would I not trust my rancher!” 

“When did you two get to be such good friends?” Impulse joked. 

“Oh pshhh.” Bdubs rolled his eyes, walking over to Tango’s side to elbow him. “These two been pallin’ around the server like best buddies since they met up! They’re almost as good a pair as us. Why I even bother trying?” 

Tango’s giggles died out, his gaze shifting to the unfinished garden. There it was again, that buggy feeling. “Well, you know. Jimmy’s a great guy…”

“I don’t know about that, but he certainly seems to try hard for you guys. Hey, remind him he still owes me one for that bucket, by the way!” 

“Yeah sure, uh… Actually…” He paused, glancing between his two old friends. Was it a good idea to drag them in on something weird like this? But he needed to get out of his own head. “Actually, you’ve um. Seen us plenty so far, right? Me and Jimmy.”

Two separate looks of confusion. Okay, so it was a strange question! He waited patiently for their answers, though. They both eventually just nodded, giving each other another side glance.

“Great! Great. Well, uh, weird questions, I know. When you see us, what do you, uh, let’s say generally think of us? Like, our relationship.”

Bdubs tilted his head. “I would say it’s a pretty good one? You certainly seem close.”

“You look like a couple of ranchers to me.” Impulse agreed.

“What sort of question’s that, anyways? Don’t tell me there really is trouble in paradise.”

Tango tried to wave it off, backing away. “Ah, nah, just a stray thought, y’know? Curiosity. Sorry, to bother you. Thanks for the iron!”

They continued to give him odd looks but when he didn’t stop backing away they shrugged and waved him off. He bolted back towards the ranch before they could think too hard about it all. What was he thinking? Now they probably thought their little lie secretly worked or something. He hoped that’s what they thought, rather than whatever weird ideas Scott and Cleo had gotten.

He didn’t slow until he could see the ranch walls once again. Jimmy was outside, laying on his stomach in the grass – their bed and blankets lost to the fire - with his head tilted towards the gate. He looked somewhere between bored and falling asleep. He must have finished the chores he could do without the supplies Tango was supposed to bring. The blazeborn hissed at himself, he should have been back a long time ago.

But he still hesitated. The bugs were back, twisting his stomach. Asking Bdubs and Impulse did him no good in clearing his head. If anything, they only added to it. How was he supposed to sparse through everyone else’s biases to figure out that truth? Not like there was a factual truth to begin with…

… He was just driving himself in circles. His soulmate was right there, he could just ask him.

There were no excuses to stay away, anyways.

With his tail wrapped tightly around his leg he took a deep breath and marched back down to the ranch.

Jimmy heard him approach before he opened the gate, his wings perking up first before he pushed himself up into sitting cross-legged. Tango felt his heart almost melt at the sleepy smile sent his way. It dispersed his muddled thoughts long enough to collapse down into his soulmate’s open arms. He slipped his arm around Jimmy’s waist, twisting to get comfortable in the canary’s grip, who didn’t bother to give him much time to do so before he already had his face buried in Tango’s hair. Given how the same locks were aflame in rage the night prior he was honestly surprised how quick Jimmy was to trust Tango wouldn’t burn him.

Tango chuckled. “Cold?” 

“Mn-mm.” Jimmy weakly shook his head. “But you are comfy.” He sounded almost asleep.

“Hey! I’m not a pillow!”

“Dunno, you feel like one…”

The arms around his shoulders tightened their grip for emphasis. Tango let out an amused huff. Looks like he was stuck there.

A dozy sort of silence fell over the ranch while the first shades of dawn began to creep over the horizon. With nothing but his thoughts, though, Tango felt the mysterious bugs begin to return. Should he ask Jimmy now? What would he even ask, though? Maybe he should let him nap-

“You’re thinking very loudly.” Jimmy grumbled.

“Wh-“ He blinked. “Oh.”

“What’s all the hubbub about?” 

Tango shrugged, trying to stall for time. “Just had an odd thought I can’t get out of my head.” How on earth was he supposed to word the question on his mind without sounding leading? Or without concerning the avian? 

He could feel the frown against the top of his head. They pulled apart just enough for them to be able to look at one another. “Are you getting second thoughts about the revenge plan? Cause I can come help dig, or we can come up with something else-”

“No, no, it’s all fine, that’s not it.” Tango waved him off, but grinned. “I appreciate the thought, though, thank you. And thanks for rebuilding the house.”

Jimmy beamed. There really wasn’t a better word for it, and it had quickly become one of Tango’s favourite things. The way he held his lips tight to keep from outright grinning like a doofus despite how wide his smile stretched, while his cheeks and eyes lit up. How his wings flexed only to settle with golden feathers fluffed up almost proudly. Even his back seemed to straighten a little despite trying to keep his hold around the blazeborn’s neck, inadvertently yanking Tango towards him. 

It was far more adorable than the whining and huffing – and, once everyone was gone, fits of giggles – that escaped the avian whenever someone pulled a prank on him. If Tango could he’d make a sport out of complimenting Jimmy. His tail curled up in delight. So busy basking in the precious reaction, he nearly forgot what they were talking about until Jimmy piped up again.

“So, then, what was it?”

Right. What was it again? Did that mean anything to it? Were only husbands allowed to love that sort of thing about someone? That didn’t sound right, but Tango wasn’t the smartest in these matters, as evident by his predicament. 

The beam ebbed away into concern once again. “Tango?”

“What are we?” He blurted out, then immediately covered his mouth with a squeaky ‘ meep !’

Well, there went the proverbial bandage, he supposed…

Tango could visibly see Jimmy’s mind trying to process the question, from stupefied confusion to regular confusion to some sort of short circuiting that prevented his brain’s automatic response to… Tomato. “W-what?” His voice came out horse.

There wasn’t any taking it back now. So, equally red-faced, Tango pushed a little bit more room between the two – easy, now that Jimmy seemed to turn to gelatine from shock – and repeated. “What… Are we? I mean, what do you think we are? Or, er, want us to be, I guess? Maybe.” His throat suddenly felt very dry.

“Um, sssoulmates?” Jimmy leaned to the side, like he was trying to test for the right response.

Tango could feel nervous sparks licking his hair. He tried to smooth them down, looking away in the process. “I mean, yeah, but like, Bdubs and Impulse are soulmates and they’re all married and stuff, but Scott and Cleo are soulmates and are BFFs. A-and Pearl-”

“Are you…” Jimmy paused. At some point he’d pulled his wings in tense around his shoulders, his hands completely leaving Tango in favour of rubbing nervously against his forearms. “Are you asking if I want to get married?”

“Well, I- do you? Cause I don’t… Know?” Tango felt like he was floundering, arms flailing out attempting to gesture an abstract point.

“I mean I guess that’s much more considerate to at least ask first-”

“No, I mean…!” A deep sigh escaped, followed by several slow breaths. It looked like he was just breathing embers as some weird distraction. Why couldn’t the soulbond just transfer his thoughts into his soulmate’s brain so he didn’t have to get it together? They were a type of pain, weren’t they? At this rate he might die from the humiliation. “What I meant to say- ask. What I meant to ask is… What. Are we. Like, cause I like what we are, so do you… know what we are?”

Yeah. Yeah, he was gonna lose their life to embarrassment. That sounded about right for the two of them. Or he was gonna burn Jimmy alive, because his tail was awfully close to his wings and the flames were certainly not shrinking .

Jimmy shifted, at first away but then scooching up next to Tango with his knees pulled to his chest. One wing wrapped around his exposed side over his legs, the other awkwardly encompassing Tango into the little safety cocoon. It tugged guiltily on Tango’s heart and he wanted to apologize, or perhaps thank him for bringing him in as well even though it was Tango’s fault he felt so frazzled.

He absently pulled at the loose threads worn into the knees of his jeans. “I… I like us, too. But…” It wasn’t physically possible for the avian’s face to be as red as Tango’s, but it was trying its hardest. His lip quivered for a moment before his hands full on slapped over his face. He let out a strangled little noise. “I… I don’t know, either? I never thought about it? We’re…”

There was an odd shudder through his wings. Like a flipped switch he pulled both his hands and wings away, now sporting a determined look only slightly hampered by the remaining blush. He dug through his inventory and pulled out their horn. Both hands held tightly onto it as he presented it towards Tango who instinctively mimicked the movement, ready to respond if the other was blown. Jimmy seemed to falter for a second but shook it away. “We’re ranchers! Obviously!”

Tango blinked owlishly at the other man. A grin broke across his face, and he held up the horn. “Yeah, ranchers! Of course, duh!”

“Yep. We’re ranchers.” Jimmy nodded in satisfaction. It was like those words shooed all the bugs away, pulled the tension out of every nerve. Both ranchers relaxed, melting back together with embarrassed but honest smiles. 

Tango chuckled as Jimmy remembered to actually blow his horn, responding instantly. The sun finally deigned to peak over the hills in front of them. One of Jimmy’s arms found its way back around Tango’s shoulder. “My rancher.”

“My rancher.” Tango repeated, tail wrapped around Jimmy’s waist. A warmth spread through his chest. That one was probably about right.

[dino-boyo-agere]

I don't think I ever posted this silly little AgeRe Steddie head canon of mine, even though I made an edit about it hehe

Eddie has a massive sweet tooth, like.. massive, even more so when he's regressed.

Eddie can also get very cranky, when he's hungry or tired.. or - god forbid - both.

One day, little Eddie decides that he will have ice cream for breakfast, from now on..

Steve's reply: "No, Tough Guy, I don't think you will."

Eddie is not happy about that. Little him is not the best at dealing with rejection. So, he throws a full blown hissy fit. Sticking out his tongue at Steve, yelling: "ur mean!", throwing plushies at him and storming off to his room. (Steve has a little room for him in his house, by the way) There, he angrily grabs the walkie talkie, to continue his arguing with Steve.

The latter just let's him.. He knows full well that Eddie is simply still tired, because he just woke up and that he doesn't really feel as betrayed as he makes it seem. Yes, Eddie is really upset at the moment, but that will definitely subside. As soon as he had something to eat (real food obviously), all will be better, as always. Besides, it's absolutely adorable to see him like this.

Eddie's nose all scrunched up in anger, his hair still all messy from sleeping and his pacie making it just a little more difficult to actually yell a fully coherent sentence..

Steve has to hold back a few chuckles with all his might. He doesn't want to seem like he is mocking his - already distressed - "Little Sir Cries-A-Lot". He doesn't want to undermine his emotions, be they proportionate to the situation or not. Steve wants Eddie to feel safe, valid, loved.

However, he also can't spoil him too much either, so he has to keep a serious demeanor. Trying to calmly explain to Eddie why exactly ice cream is not a substantial breakfast.. It hardly even qualifies as food.

At first, Eddie is not very receptive to the logic of things, but after about twenty minutes of arguing, stomping around and crying, he realizes that Steve won't budge on this one... Plus, Eddie is getting really hungry. So, he gives up the argument.. For now, at least.

Steve hugs his little daredevil tightly, after he - finally - ate his whole wheat cereal and calmed down a bit.

Eddie starts crying, profusely apologizing for acting the way he did. He didn't want to be like that, he never does, but sometimes he just can't help it. Sometimes, his emotions are just too big for him to deal with properly.

Steve reassures him, saying: "It's fine! Sometimes, feelings are hard to express, I get that. I love you, everything about you.. Even your tantrums. You're okay! We're okay!"

They just cuddle after that, for HOURS!!!

Text on pictures says:

Eddie, yells into the walkie talkie: "Why no gib meh ice cream?!"

Steve, thinks to himself: Don't laugh, stay assertive.. darn it, why is he so cute?

.･｡»･⁠°✧ ↑ Here the pictures without text!! ↑ ✧°･«｡･.

Sidenote:

What grumpy baby Eds calls Steve: Meanie, Dummy, Stupid Head..

What Steve calls grumpy bby Eds: Tough Guy, Pal, Bud, Sassy One..

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

banner by @froggy-clubhouse

[invisibleraven]

time loops + the GPP?

Alex awakens in a puppy pile of bodies, smiling to himself as he nuzzles into Willie's shoulder, feeling Reggie snuggled into his back and hearing Luke's snoring on Willie's other side.

They had no plans or obligations that day, and Alex was tempted to go back to sleep, just laze the day away. But unfortunately once he was awake, he was awake, and sleep would be elusive at best.

Instead he slowly got out of bed, tip-toeing down to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Sure cooking for eight people every day was a bit much, but they made their weird little polycule work. He set the coffee to brew, and started on the bacon and eggs.

"Hey Lexie," yawned Kayla as she came in, the other early riser of the crew. "Need help?"

"You can start on the toast if you want," Alex offered, nodding to the bread he'd taken out-white for Luke and Reggie, whole wheat for him and Kayla, gluten free for Flynn and Carrie who on some diet kick right now, and pumpernickel for Julie who was weird and preferred it above all others.

The others slowly traipsed in as the smell of cooking food started to invade the house, everyone grabbing what they wanted, sitting around their huge table and discussing their days. Carrie and Flynn volunteered to do the dishes, while Luke and Julie retreated to the studio, Kayla and Willie went off to do yoga, and Reggie went off to the garden to get some vegetables for their supper that evening.

Alex decides he wants to head off to the library, gathering the books that need to be returned, and offers to pick up their holds. He opens the door and...

Alex wakes up, and is confused. Wasn't he just about to go out? Instead he finds himself back in bed, surrounded by his boyfriends, and figures he must have dreamed about the morning.

Only when he goes about his day, everything is the same; the same conversations, the same actions. He's confused and a little freaked out to be honest, his dreaming wasn't usually this vivid. Only when he pinches himself, the pain is real, and when he changes up his path to go out the back door, he steps out into the garden. Okay, this is weird but not out of the ordinary.

Only when he opens the door to his car...

He wakes up in his bed again. "What the fuck is going on?"

"What's going on hot dog?' Willie asks sleepily, blinking up at him.

"I think I'm stuck in some sort of Groundhog Day bullshit," Alex replied.

"Reggie did you put us in a time loop again?" Willie asks, poking the bassists shoulder.

"Again?' Alex all but shrieks as Reggie grunts awake, looking at them both.

"Hey, what's this about a time loop?" Reggie asks around a yawn.

"Alex is stuck in one," Willie explains. "Your fault?"

"Not this time cuddle wumpus," Reggie replies. "Ask Kay-Kay."

"I am so confused," Alex moans.

"So Kayla and I bonded over a lot of bad time travel movies," Willie replies, running his fingers through his hair. "And Reggie's always been good with science, so we all worked together..."

"To make a time machine," Alex concluded.

"Yeah," Reggie says with a sigh. "Only it made a time loop instead, repeating the same two hours over and over again."

"How do we stop it?' Alex asks.

"Turn the machine off," Willie replies. "Let's go find Kayla."

Only Kayla isn't in her room, or with the girls. She's in the garage, fiddling with some dials on a giant machine.

"Hey Kay Kay," Reggie drawls.

"Pumpkin I think I fixed it!' Kayla exclaims.

"You didn't," Alex replied. "Only got me stuck in it."

"Well poo," Kayla pouts. "I really thought I had it this time."

"How many times have you guys used this machine?" Alex asks, and looks at their guilty faces. "You know what, I really don't want to know. Just... turn it off okay?"

"It will still reset the day," Kayla warns, "But the time loop should be broken."

"Fine," Alex huffs. "I'm going back to bed."

Then with a flash, Alex is back there, but Reggie is grinning down at him. "Think it worked?' he asks, Willie squeezed in right next to him.

"I dunno, but I'm not moving from this spot for the next three hours just to be safe," Alex retorts.

"Well I'm sure we can find a way to pass the time," Willie leers.

"Come on guys, some of us are trying to sleep!" Luke grumbles, causing the rest of them to laugh.

But in the end, he cheers up during their 'time wasting' and Alex can finally get on with his day-though he totally is talking to his partners about the time machine in the garage-tomorrow.

[kringas]

The Debate

Do you think it is like.. morally questionable if your best friend is fucking your ex? Like... It wasn't a BAD breakup. It was my fault, too. I sorta stopped selling her mom weed which was apparentl

y the entire reason that she was in a relationship with me. Her mom, who is like this 5’7 Polish American milf with intense eyes and extensive knowledge of generative AI, really wanted that friends and family discount. The discount wasn’t even good, though. I don’t get. I also got into her LinkedIn and wrote multiple 6 paragraph posts about the deep state but I don’t think that was the reason that she broke up with me. That was mostly foreplay I’m like pretty sure. I don’t have the best perspective on that sorta thing. I live a life in nauseating levels of confusion constantly. Due to all the high doses of antipsychotics I have been taking (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am not prescribed them anymore because I lost my insurance, but I wasn’t taking them when I was. I collected 9 months worth of doses and now I have been having a bit mixed in with my morning cereal. This cereal, which was, according to some sources, the Whole Foods Brand of frosted mini wheats (because they don’t have gelatin in them) is now curently Boo Berries precisely because they have gelatin in them (new carnivore diet that I am easing into) and because it is close enough to halloween that the Target by my house sells them and I am the type of person who buys groceries from Target now.) I also like being confused because everything is confusing and I would prefer that I have a medical reason for it, since, if I was just, like, confused because the world doesn’t make any sense and it is super bright and so so loud every minute of every single day, and I can’t make it go away by lowering my dose of stock piled VRAYLAR® (cariprazine), I don’t know how I’d handle it. I also hate having desires. I would do anything not to want anything. I dream of true anhedonia. I hate pleasure. I hate pleasure. I hate pleasure. I hate pleasure. I would do anything to escape it, to stray from the confines, to never pleasure seek again. To be actually free.

Did you see the debate the other night? I should also mention in this, let us call it a theoretical, your (my) best friend is fucking my (your) ex in, like, your general viscinity. Because I am all for free love and everything. I don’t put ENM in my Tinder bio but when people assume it I don’t feel that weird about it. But like it’s weird to invite me over and then invite my ex over and then have sex with her while I’m sitting in your (my?) living room. I think. I actually know like 5 people with this exact arragnement. Not in a sexual way, either. Not in a romantic way. They’re just trying to clicker train themselves out of feeling jealously, which i get becuase of my aforementioned desire to escape desire and jealously is desire. The debate was pretty crazy I think. I don’t follow politics anymore and I didn’t realize that it was an election year because we had one a few (couple?) years ago and I didn’t realize they come so often and with intensity. I remember in 2012. That was the last election. Now.

Anyways. The debate. I was sitting in the alleyway watching it on my phone because I had just dumpster dived the subway behind my apartment building and I didn’t want to bring it upstairs and then come back down to throw the trash away when the garbage can was right there. So I was sitting there, or really I was kneeling there. The laundromat also behind my building likes pouring chemicals into the alleyway and I decided that I didn’t want them on my pants. So I was kneeling there watching the debate on my phone. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I don’t mind the chemicals in my alleyway other than the questionable enviromental impact because it means that the alleyway usually smells like a laundromat and a subway instead of garbage) and I was like, “Wow. I’m sure people on the internet are going to have lots of good thoughts about this.” but they didn’t. I’m still holding out for it though. Would it change your mind, like, at all, if I told you that both people in my story, the ex and the friend, are women? Cis women? Would that change your mind at all? Not that it’s true, but would it change your mind? I’m really trying to get a read on the gender war right now, my fingers are incompetent and poorly controlled so I can’t find the pulse or other things like my debit card in my wallet or my two lights of broadway cards also in my wallet or a paper crane an ex-friend (not the ex or the friend, ex-friend, fyi) gave me that is also in my wallet. I don’t think there is a war between men and women because I am a gender abolitionist, though I’m not super hard on that position as I’m concerned about the logistics of removing the gender marker from pre-existing driver’s licenses, as I don’t think we produce enough white-out for it to happen in any quick method nor do we have the labor power for it yet. Like would you go to the DMV and wait in line for hours and then hand your license over and then they’d white it out on the spot? I can’t imagine the complexities of this plan. If I think about it too much my heart actually starts pounding, sweat starts forming on my hairline and I have a sense that I am in a music video, but like, who would watch a music video where it’s just DMV workers whiting out the gender marker on a driver’s license? Not me. I don’t watch anything anymore. I put it on twice speed and then look at a word document while listening to it. But then what’s the point of filming them with the driver’s licenses?

I refuse to know who Donald Trump is. Why? Because I am only myself. I am me. I am one of a few hundred million. I don’t need to know. I don’t. I deserve to be selfish, right? I deserve not to worry about it because I worry about everything (animals, people, sex, VRAYLAR® (cariprazine), concepts, words on a page, wallets, cereal, gelatin, other things.) and if I worry about anything else again, I’m going to stand in traffic but the traffic slowing on my street has been effective and the streets are well lit so I won’t get hit, I’ll just get honked at, which is WORSE because it’s so loud. I spend half my day justifying my own existence and when I can’t do that, I go on Twitter and see if anyone else is publically justifiying their existence so I can project myself on them and then I feel better and I didn’t have to put any effort into feeling like a better-worse person, which is a win-win-win-win-win-win-win-win-win-win— sorry the chatbot I am using to write this got stuck in a loop and now I have to go and send messages that make it seem like it’s a personal assistant that I am emotionally abusing but that HR can’t get mad at me for.::: CAN WE SOLVE DOMESTIC ABUSE BY JUST LETTING PEOPLE ABUSE CHATBOTS? IS ABUSE A RIGHT? I have been looking for excuses for everything. Every element of my life includes an excuse. I have an excuse for my haircut.

So please, please, please, give me a read on the morals of this situation. on the ethics. on the ethics please. I need someone else to examine it all. I need to get back to ridding myself of desire and presence. Thanks. PLEASE get me those reports sent in a Word document by the end of the day, including the spreadsheet. Then text me when you send them since I will be OOO.

Yours truly,

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Insert your boss’s name and phone number here.)

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please clap.)

[avastrasposts]

Sourdough - A Baker's Dozen TedTalk

I’ve mentioned sourdough a few times in A Baker’s Dozen but I never dedicated a chapter to it even though it’s probably my personal favourite to bake. So to make up for that, I’m indulging in making a whole post about my other obsession, sourdough bread!

I love baking with sourdough because the process behind it is like magic to me. Flour, water and salt, three ingredients, and you can get the most delicious bread. The magic, unseen, ingredient is of course those wild yeast bacteria that live around us. 

My mum was always the one who baked sweet things around the house when I was a kid, my dad made the bread. When he first got into it he produced bricks. You legit could’ve used some of his loaves as a foundation for a house. And I’ve produced my fair share of bricks in my baking career too… But he got better and for most of my life I had the luxury of having fresh, homemade bread for breakfast. That’s where my need to make my own bread came from and once I got past the novelty of being “allowed” to buy bread from the store after moving out of my parent’s house, I got into making my own bread pretty fast.  

I started baking with sourdough about ten years ago when I stumbled on a blog about it. My first loaves were flat as pancakes and it took A WHILE before I graduated from baking in bread tins to managing to make loaves that actually held their shape. Sourdough dough does not behave like regular yeasted dough… But when I did manage to make my first proper levain, you know one of those beautiful golden loaves with nice holes and crunchy crust? I ate the whole loaf in one day. I couldn’t stop. Just butter, some sea salt and that was my food for the whole day. I’d never tasted bread so good. It’s tangy and flavourful in a way that yeasted bread just can’t imitate. 

I’m no expert but here is how I make and manage my starter and my bread. Important to remember is that flour, water and climate, especially the humidity, has a HUGE effect on the dough and the bread. No recipe will have the same results and to a certain extent, it’s a process of trial and error and learning how to bake in YOUR kitchen. 

In order to make sourdough, you need a starter and it’s surprisingly easy to make and maintain. I have a tiny starter, only about half a cup in size. The starter is your “yeast”, a small colony of yeast bacteria that you feed and culture so that you have enough for whatever you want to bake. 

The starter takes about 5-7 days to make and once you have it, you can keep it in the fridge and just feed it before you want to bake. 

So to make it you need: 

Organic whole wheat flour, stone milled if you can find it. 

Organic will contain more yeast spores and make the process easier. Don’t use old flour, check the expiration date of the flour you have at home. Flour can actually go rancid and wreck your bread. 

Water

I use tap water but if you live somewhere with chlorinated water, use bottled water. The chlorination will kill all bacteria, the good and the bad. 

A clean jar with a lid. 

It doesn’t have to be a clear glass jar but it’s pretty handy because it makes it easy to see what’s going on. 

Ok, now that we’ve got everything, let’s start. 

Day 1 - Evening

1 tablespoon flour

2 tablespoons tepid water (roughly body temp, maybe a bit cooler)

The amount of water you need to add can vary depending on how your flour has been milled. The mixture should be like gruel, not porridge. If two tablespoons isn’t enough, add a little bit more water until you have a fairly loose and liquid slurry. 

Mix together in the jar, put the lid on top but don’t screw the lid on. Leave for 48 hours in a warm place. Inside the oven (turned off) is a pretty good place. 

You can check on your jar after 24 hours. It’s pretty liquid and should smell warm and a bit sweet, almost like honey. If you see any brighter colours in it, red, yellow, orange, I’m sorry, but you have to toss it. That’s mold and that’s not what we want. So throw it out, start again (this is one benefit of this method, all you lost was a tablespoon of flour). 

Day 3 - Evening 

Ok, so if your flour/water mix is looking good, a bit liquidy, maybe it’s separated a bit, maybe a bit bubbly and frothy, we’re all good for the next step. 

Add 1 tablespoon of flour and mix in. Leave it overnight. 

Day 4 - Morning 

If the starter is on the right track now, you should begin to see small bubbles on the side of it, inside the glass jar. It should smell sour and yeasty, “bready”. 

Add 2 tablespoons of flour and two tablespoons of water and mix it in. Leave until evening. 

And that’s it! By evening you might/should see that there’s activity in the jar, bigger bubbles forming, the starter will rise up in the jar and expand, just like a dough. If it doesn’t, feed it 1 tablespoon of water and flour again and leave it overnight. Like I said at the beginning, lots of different factors are at play here so despite the fact that it’s all chemistry, it’s not an exact science (well it is, but since we can’t measure all the factors in each individual kitchen, we need to depend on a bit of trial and error). 

So now you have a starter and can start playing around with making bread. I won’t go into that because there are so many good instructional videos online. I can really recommend Claire Saffitz’s video, I’ll link it below. 

Obviously this starter is very small. Many recipes I’ve seen online call for much bigger starters and then discard half of it when they feed it but that always seems very wasteful to me. So what I do with my tiny little starter is just keep it in the fridge in its jar. When I plan on baking I take about 30 grams of starter and put it in a bowl and mix with 100g water and 100g strong bread flour. That is then the base for my bread the next day. To that mix I add whatever flour I’m baking with. The starter gets fed another tablespoon of flour and water and stays on my countertop overnight. That replenishes the starter and gives me enough for the next time I want to bake. In all, I usually have about 150-200 ml of starter in the fridge at any time. 

If I’m not baking, the starter stays in the fridge. I’ve had it there for a month without feeding (I was away travelling) and when I got home, I just fed it like above and left it out overnight. I had to feed it a couple of times before it got back to full strength. But the yeast bacteria don’t seem to die very easily, they just go dormant and are easily revived with flour and water. 

Fun fact, the actual science behind the yeast bacteria is that they eat the carbs in the flour and then convert that into energy and emit the gas carbon dioxide. The gluten strands in the dough traps that gas and makes the dough rise. So essentially, farts make the dough rise, tiny bacteria farts. I love science :D 

What else did I want to say about sourdough? Oh yeah, TIME! Time will make your bread taste better! And this goes for regular yeasted bread too.  By letting the dough cold proof in the fridge the yeast activity is slowed down but at the same time, flavour develops. With sourdough, you get a tangier, more sour bread. I usually keep my loaves in the fridge for 24 hours before baking them, same for my pizza dough. 

So thanks for coming to my TedTalk about sourdough! It’s amazing and frustrating and a real pain sometimes but when you get it right and you get to cut into that perfect loaf that YOU MADE and it tastes better than anything you’ve had, that’s real magic. 

[walkswithmyfather]

“On the day of Pentecost all the believers were meeting together in one place. Suddenly, there was a sound from heaven like the roaring of a mighty windstorm, and it filled the house where they were sitting. Then, what looked like flames or tongues of fire appeared and settled on each of them. And everyone present was filled with the Holy Spirit and began speaking in other languages, as the Holy Spirit gave them this ability.” —Acts 2:1‭-‬4 (NLT)

“After this prayer, the meeting place shook, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit. Then they preached the word of God with boldness.” —Acts 4:31 (NLT)

Today is Pentecost Sunday. Why do Christians celebrate Pentecost? Here are some insights from Crosswalk.com:

“Pentecost is a Christian holiday, observed on the seventh Sunday after Easter, that celebrates the blessing of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles and other followers of Jesus Christ, as mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:1-31). The day of Pentecost is known in the Christian Church as the day on which the Spirit descended upon the apostles. Guided by Peter's preaching, many thousands were converted in Jerusalem.

This year, Pentecost will be on Sunday, May 28th, 2023 occurring seven weeks after Easter Sunday (April 9). Why do Christians celebrate Pentecost? According to Ray Pritchard from Christianity.com, “Modern Christians observe Pentecost as a holiday, not to celebrate a wheat harvest, but to remember when the Holy Spirit invaded the Church in Acts 2.”

The description in Act 2 states that, after Jesus ascended into heaven, Jesus’ followers were gathered together for the Feast of Harvest (aka Pentecost), and the Holy Spirit “filled the whole house where they were sitting” (Acts 2:2). “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them” (Acts 2:4). This unusual event drew a large crowd, and Peter stood up to speak to them about repentance and the gospel of Christ (Acts 2:14). By the end of the day that the Holy Spirit came, the Church grew by 3,000 people (Acts 2:41). This is why Christians still celebrate Pentecost.

Pentecost in the Bible:

Acts 2:1-4 "When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. hey saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them."

John 14:26 "But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you."

Exodus 32:22 "Celebrate the Festival of Weeks with the firstfruits of the wheat harvest, and the Festival of Ingathering at the turn of the year."

A Prayer for Pentecost:

Dear Heavenly Father, on this day, 2000 years ago, you inaugurated the church by having the Holy Spirit indwell in your believers. We rejoice that you have allowed us, men and women, Jew and Gentile, to experience new life. Thank you for the gift of the Holy Spirit, our comforter, our guide, and so many other things. And may we continue to celebrate this day until you return again. Amen."

Other links:

Bible Verses About Pentecost

5 Remarkable Things to Know About Pentecost Sunday

Prayers for Pentecost and Holy Spirit Power

[lunarsilkscreen]

Demands on Goods and Food Inflation

Roscoe Filbur was penalized under the 1938 Agricultural Adjustment act for harvesting too much wheat.

[thanks to the person who directed me to the case]

I'm going to be referencing the encyclopedia brittanica article mostly, here and there if you want to confirm my analysis and assertions.

The first thing modern analysts are going to be screaming is "Racism"..because it's true; there were plenty of racists stemming effects as this benefitted the white owned and established farms over the black sharecropper start-ups. (Don't @ me, I'm sure there's a lot more on *that* front. But in the interest of time...) The benefits helped already established farms from going under.

They did this because there was wildly fluctuating prices at the time, and it ultimately saved many farmers from bankruptcy (as opposed to *all* farmers).

Well, actually, it was because crops had dropped to less than half of their original price in a very short time due to technological advancement. So the government decided to regulate the amount of crops produced across the country so that farmers could pay their mortgages.

This was to the benefit of some farmers that overextended their debt acquiring farming equipment and land. I'm asking the question now (since racism) Did that benefit farmers in Debt over farmers without? I'm not sure.

But what this confirms for me is the idea that inflation is directly tied to mortgages and debt by larger industry. If they're going to bailout those with the most debt-which will, by design; cause inflation. What are the widespread effects of that?

We know the "New Deal" and the "New Deal Jr." We're established to help the "forgotten man". With social programs and construction programs aimed at alleviating woes the average *homeowner* faced.

And then what? Did that help a majority of people lean into advancements for society as a whole?

-OR- and this is speculation: OR did that create a class of landlords and an industry built on renting to people in perpetuity? If so; how do we go from *that* to a system that focuses on keeping houses in good repair *and* replacing/upgrading/or even rebuilding as necessary?

We should have a class of craftsmen, who upgrade homes and infrastructure to the latest technological standards, and keep houses from deteriorating because the price on the home is more important than the house inspection.

And people should be able to afford those upgrades without the risk of losing everything inside their home when the bank repossesses the home.

How do we get from where we are; to where that isn't just a pipe dream?