#got mom 5 books and i got 2 lol

[bunnyb34r]

Went to the mall to buy gifts and only really shopped at the bookstore lol

I could've gone to the closer bookstore or the half priced one honestly then but I dont think I'd have bought as much if I had

[somelazyassartist]

Sometimes you just don't sleep for 3 days because you're too busy weeping over the fact that a 111 year old mail ship at the bottom of the Atlantic will probably completely erode within your lifetime. for fun

[thesirencult]

PAC READING: YOUR DIVINE FEMININE'S AURA

Discussing your feminine's general aura and characteristics. Friendly for both men and girls/theys who like girls. You can also pick it to see how your aura is as a feminine ❤️

Book your reading by sending me a private message xoxo S.

Pile 1

7 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 10 of swords

Your DF has the aura of a sweet herbal witch. She lives in her little cabin in the woods and like a fairy she works on perfecting her craft. Greens and purples look great on her.

This is a slow and steady energy. This is someone who loves taking their time. She loves learning and implementing her skills. Making coffee becomes a daily ritual and same goes as washing the dishes.

Her attention to detail is immaculate and that can drive you crazy sometimes but you know that with all that good comes some bad. Very well presented, you can take her anywhere and all eyes will be on her. Very earthy, stable and focused on building a foundation for all things practical before she jumps onto commitment.

Her steady "working on myself" attitude stems from getting backstabbed one too many times. She knows that she has to build herself up and after that all her dreams will manifest. She is into self development and may love going through that tag on Tumblr. She may even be a blogger herself.

She is investing in herself and doesn't shy away from learning about accounting or law. Nothing will stand on her way to that cute fairy cottage *aggressive cute walk* 😉.

Pile 2

9 of pentacles, queen of swords, the magician

Whoever has this DF as a counterpart or has that aura, WOW. Miss Independent. A handful. We love seeing that *sprinkle, sprinkle* here. CEO. That's C-Suite energy!

This woman is someone powerful and dominant. Like a race horse you will always bet on because you KNOW, it will always come first 😉 (pun intended). She works very very hard for what she wants and similar to pile 1 she can be in accounting, finance and law. Good with numbers and her hands. I bet she has a dirty sense of humour.

From the first moment you see her you will know she is the real deal. Others blend in the background while she power walks in the room. Penetrating stare and red bottom high heels, her allure is different. She doesn't have to show dominance, others feel that she is the boss. Mami energy. Ferocious when someone comes for her loved ones. She could even be in law enforcement.

Red and brown. Symbolising high energy that's still grounded and serious. Do not cross her.

Pile 3

King Of Swords, Knight Of Wands, Ace Of Swords

Now, this one? A handful ! Try to tie her down. You just can't. A brat.

This person is very fluid. They don't care about terms and conditions. They are highly intelligent and her mind walks a thin line between spirituality and logic. The most unconventional, they will find a solution no one sees yet it's right in front of them. Highly intellectual and well versed in philosophy and math.

This reminds of a movie with James Franco where he played a start up founder who was into spirituality. A crazy genius. A party is a party and they will be there.

Partying in Ibiza? They've done that. Phuket for a Muay Thai Camp? That did that last year! Eiffel tower to try a croissant with pistachio filling? They just got back yesterday and guess what? They hate pistachios.

This person is the type to run a start up company focused on clean energy and when shit hits the fun they will call an astrologer and ask for recommendations. They respect everyone. They will listen to your mom and dad when they talk about their days and take mental notes of great ideas. They know great ideas come from the most unconventional places and fields.

Pile 4

Page Of Cups, Page Of Swords, The Fool (5 Of Swords + 8 Of Swords + 5 Of Pentacles flew out)

This can be my age difference pile. They will run you to the ground lol.

This is someone with lots of mental capacity. You ask them about World War II and they will tell you how Nazis and Churchill used astrology and why the war happened and after 5 hours you will be listening to them about Ancient Mesopotamia. "How did we get here?" You will think.

Well, it doesn't matter cause you love listening to their voice and their warm heartfelt laugh. They look innocent and pure and even if they try to intimidate you you will let them think they can but in reality they look like a cinnamon roll and they are a cinnamon roll. Their life was not the best and they have lots of trust issues. They may look innocent but their eyes hide a painful past. Like a kitten thrown out and left out in the cold they feel lost and unappreciated.

You listening to them means the world and you will be shocked at how appreciative they are and how loving with you. They are very romantic and they may have great expectations and daydreams about their love life.

I get that you might start off as friends and meet in a very random way on a daily run or while getting groceries or a tire changed. You will immediately fall in love with them and they will seem like they don't suspect a thing. Let me tell you, they know, they are just too scared to show their feelings and until you grab them and kiss em you won't know how much passion is brewing underneath this innocent and clever facade. They might turn into pile number 2 in a few years lol.

Ready for everything, you will always be a warm embrace and their home when they come back from exploration. You will love how they yawn while reading a book and how they stretch when they wake up showing revealing their tummy. They are cute to you, even if everyone else sees them differently, that's how you view them. They might be a black mysterious cat but you think of them as a tired little kitten waiting for a safe home that will accept them as they are.

[061306]

␥ list of things i’ve successfully manifested !

i discovered manifestation and the law around early 2022 and here's what i have manifested since then! this might not be much but this is to remind me that i am capable of anything and everything!

𖥻 1. clearer skin

i used to have a terrible breakout on the right side of my face + oily skin. now my skin is much better and less oily! i do not have acne anymore.

𖥻 2. weight loss ( 14 kgs )

i went from 69 kgs to 55 kgs in around two months with minimal exercise ( walking ) & a simple diet.

𖥻 3. height increase ( 11cm )

i used to be 150cm but not anymore lol. i got better proportions too!

𖥻 4. text messages & instant replies from people.

i also manifested message from a friend i was no longer in contact with.

𖥻 5. passing exams i thought i was going to fail

accountancy was my weakest subject but i manifested passing several tests and exams. i also manifested getting better in it!

𖥻 6. getting above average % board exams

board examinations are a big deal in my country and i, unfortunately, ended in a stream i was not interested in. i manifested getting ~80% in them despite getting way lesser in school examinations.

𖥻 7. food

one single thought turned into an assumption and i am having whatever i want for dinner!

𖥻 8. storage of my phone increasing

i only have 32gb of storage in my phone lol. so sometimes i have to clear app caches to make space, but not anymore.

𖥻 9. love confession

i simply wanted a love confession and i got it. as easy as it gets.

𖥻 10. an increament in my mom’s salary & money for myself

my mom really wanted an increament and i manifested it! she got increament of 5.5k! also manifested a bonus for her. + got gift money from my parents and relatives!

𖥻 11. letting go of & detaching from several people

i used to be attached some people that hurt me but not anymore. i have let go of them and it feels so much better.

𖥻 12. books & manga ( jjk )

my mom is not the type to let me spend money on buying books ( for leisure reading ), much less a comic book. but i manifested her allowing me to buy 4 books + 1 manga volume! she even paid for them.

𖥻 13. delaying the start of my college, teachers & professors taking leaves, not getting scolded for submitting assignments late

my college was supposed to start from early june but i manifested a delay and it started from mid-july. i have manifested both school teachers and college professors taking leaves on my desired days.

𖥻 14. nice aura + compliments

i have a magnetic aura, people feel comfort around me and i get so many compliments about literally everything i do!

𖥻 15. quick deliveries of my orders

🤭🤭🤭

𖥻 16. winning an elocution competition

i was really worried because i only found about it a day before and some other contestants had been trained by their professors. i was full of nerves but still won the first rank! the judges said my content was unique and everything i did was perfect.

𖥻 17. kitten type beauty

manifested myself big upturned eyes with pretty lashes & a v-shaped face with smooth skin!

𖥻 18. cats loving me

call me a cat whisperer the way cats love me! i can easily befriend any cat!!! ˃ᴗ˂

𖥻 19. desired skincare products for cheap

i really wanted vitamin c serum and face cleanser and sometime later i saw an ad with an offer to get both for 1 rupee! crazy right?

𖥻 20. entering the void on several occasions.

i have entered the void several times albeit unaware. recently i've started becoming aware before snapping out of it!

masterlist. | notes – i've also manifested getting a merch of my bias. i got it from my best friend as gift but i didn't add it on the list because i didn't want break the perfect 20. also this list is as on 04 DEC 2023.

[danieyells]

If you could, could you post Alan’s lines? I like him but he’s so stone cold at low affinity it’s hard to sus out his personality

SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG ANON AND @otomelover23 so many things got in the way. . .mostly myself lol. . . .

Honestly that stone coldness is a big part of his personality. He's not great at expressing himself and he's very to the point. But as his affinity goes up, he's more. . .concerned for you. And he wants you around more, trusting himself to have you around more.

I posted all of them again this time! A lot of his have similar energy because of his stiffness, so I feel like being able to see them all helps to idk see the gradual change i think.

Default:

"Get your things. We're going."

"...What do you want?"

"Don't get involved with me."

"I'm going out. You guys get back to work."

"Get back. It's dangerous."

"Slack off once, and you'll find out how hard it is to get back in the game."

You've got mail:

"Some letters here for you."

Affinity 1:

"Oh, you're awake."

Affinity 2:

"I don't eat in the cafeteria. Portions aren't big enough. That's the only reason."

don't feel awkward in there or like people find you too intimidating to be near or anything? aren't worried about seeing Dante? if you say so.

Affinity 3:

"My wallet? Yeah, it's pretty beat up. Can't bring myself to chuck it though. Got some good memories with it."

reminds me of my brother, who kept our dad's old wallet. It's basically in tatters, held together by rubber bands, but sometimes what you have is what you have. . . .

Affinity 4:

"I'm going to the Pit. You should go back to your house, {PC}."

he doesn't want you to see him punch a man into oblivion.

Affinity 5:

"That sounds like a bike engine, but it's not one I know. ...Be right back."

INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT much like Tohma he's probably pretty security conscious. Maybe he's more security conscious because Tohma isn't around. Or maybe he's not used to how Bonnie sounds yet.

Affinity 6:

"Was that class really revision...? I didn't think I missed that many..."

my boy is not book smart, he is fist smart and maybe street smart. please study with him. he needs flash cards. pretty sure the only reason he's passed any grade is because he goes on plenty of missions.

Affinity 7:

"Lunch? Huh. I forgot to eat. Guess I'll just grill some meat and have it with rice and miso soup. That's my go-to."

y'know what i'm glad someone here eats proper meals. even if you forget at least you're eating eventually!!!

Affinity 8:

"One of the Vagastrom guys asked me to add him on WickChat... Do you know how to do that?"

Affinity 9:

"I don't want to get anyone mixed up in my life."

He looks sad when he says this. . .he's really worried about how being close to him will affect others huh.

Affinity 10:

"Better sleep. Got an early day tomorrow."

Affinity 11:

"497... 498... 499... 500... Phew..."

don't mind pc they're just gonna watch you do 500 sit-ups/push-ups/pull-ups/whatever. . .no no they don't mind the sweat at all please continue--

Affinity 12:

"Bandana seems to disappear right around this time every day lately... What's he doing?"

this chat's between 11am and 4pm. . .pretty sure Sho would be busy with the food truck around that point. . .does Alan not know Sho runs a business lmao. . .I mean I guess Alan doesn't go into the more populous parts of Darkwick much.

Affinity 13:

"The first-years've each got their own strengths. Both can do stuff I can't."

Affinity 14:

"Bandana's got potential. He's quick, and he's strong. Rest comes down to motivation."

I think Sho's motivated, just motivated to do his own thing. Although I'm sure he'll develop more interest in the world and actions of the Institute and anomalies eventually. . .maybe. Or maybe Hyde's interest will keep him away lol.

Affinity 15:

"I'm heading out. Mission. Make sure you go to class. ...I'll let you know when I'm back."

alright mom i'll go to class gosh. does this feel like a headpat or forehead kiss line to anyone else? he just doesn't want you to worry about him. He knows he's doing something dangerous. But he promises he'll come home. He won't be reckless because you're waiting. Maybe I'm reading too much into it lol.

Affinity 16:

"Where am I...? Guess I should tell them I'm gonna be late. WickChat was this picture, wasn't it...?"

poor boy is so lost lmao please help him get where he needs to go. . .how does this man go on hikes in the mountains and shit. . . .

Affinity 17:

"You're still awake? Don't stay up too late."

Affinity 18:

"Oh, didn't see you there. I'm heading out for a run, but... Could you wait here for me?"

He wants to spend time with you, so please be waiting when he comes back. . . .

Affinity 19:

"I pat people on the head a lot? Didn't notice. I'm doing it again? ...Sorry."

IT'S HARD NOT TO WHEN PEOPLE ARE SO MUCH SHORTER THAN YOU also that wasn't a complaint please give them lots of pats :'3

Affinity 20:

"I'm taking some of the Vagastrom guys to the mountains today. ...You want to come too?"

CAMPING TRIP WITH DA BOIS!!!!!

Affinity 21:

"This one's all fixed up. I'm gonna take a shower. Wait there."

there like in the shower or--(he uses そこ which refers to someplace near the listener, so he just means 'where you're sitting' but still.)

Affinity 22:

"{PC}. Got time after this? A friend of mine gave me some fresh boar meat."

He wants to cook for you! He cooks in a very wilderness style, but still! He wants to share his bounty! He's showing you he can be a good provider. No, he didn't hunt it himself but good community connections are also important!

Affinity 23:

"You're you, not someone else. You're doing a good job. Hold your head high."

he doesn't want you to fall into a cycle of self-loathing or of trying to be anyone but yourself. Maybe what others do feels more impressive to you, but you aren't them and you can't compare yourself to them. Even if you're 'weak' in one way or another, you have your own worth in other ways. So be proud of yourself, instead of trying to get the pride of somebody else. I think he really cares about your mental wellbeing and he doesn't want you to lose yourself. Because he's lost himself--and he doesn't want that for you. Don't wallow in self-pity, don't agonize over the past. Be proud of how far you've come and walk your own path.

Affinity 24:

"Can't sleep? ...I'll take you for a drive. Quick run should help you reset."

Imagine falling asleep in his car and he has to figure out. . .does he wake you up, does he carry you somewhere. . .he could bring you back to your place but he doesn't know how to get there so. . .you wake up in his room, in his bed. . .does he have the understanding that "you probably shouldn't sleep in the same bed as somebody without them okaying it first" and he sets up his tent and sleeps in it or uses his sleeping bag or sleeps somewhere else in the dorm or maybe in his car. . .frankly even if he doesn't he'd be afraid of hurting you in his sleep. There's no way he'd sleep in the same bed as you. Maybe lie awake in there with you or something. But he'd be too scared of what harm he could cause to fall asleep.

Affinity 25(max):

"I'm lucky I've got you, {PC}. As long as you're with me, I feel like I won't lose sight of who I am."

HE SMILES WHEN HE SAYS THIS. 99% of his lines have his usual expression, but this one he really smiles and that's how you know how much he appreciates you. I feel like he kind of gave up on himself--he's a big, dangerous brute, he's not someone worth getting close to, it's dangerous to even want to. . .but you make him feel like maybe he has a chance again. You make him look in the mirror and see someone he hasn't seen in a long time, and he realizes that person is himself and he would have never seen the version of him who isn't dirtied with blood again without you.

Spring:

"Don't get lax just 'cause it's warm out. Stay focused."

"... Good camping weather."

"Oh, it's you. Must've dozed off. Better get back to work."

BABY IF YOU NEED A NAP JUST TAKE A NAP. . . .

"The cherry blossom illuminations? ...That kind of thing's not for me."

Summer:

"It's getting hot out. Make sure you stay hydrated."

"Looks like we've got another mission order. There's more anomalies out there in summer."

"The Pit's getting noisy. Those guys better not be pulling stupid shit again..."

LET LEO PLAY MUSIC IN THE PIT HE MISSES GOING TO THE CLUB.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you again... I was just going for a jog. Didn't think you'd be round this corner."

Alan turning a corner and slamming straight into you and being shocked aw--

Autumn:

"Good season for a workout. Want to join me?"

"...Maybe I'll go check out the fall leaves."

"The days are getting shorter. You should get home before it gets dark."

"...Long nights make me think about stuff I'd rather forget."

he killed dante in the autumn or winter. noted.

Winter:

"Cold out in the mornings lately. Guess I'll warm up with a coffee."

"The first-years ditched... What do they mean, "too cold"?"

"As long as you got some muscle, you can handle the cold."

i handle the cold well because i'm fat, myself. my brother, who's plenty muscular, gets cold much easier than i do U:

"It's freezing... Guess I'll break out the kerosene heater. Gotta make sure you ventilate if you use it indoors, but it works real fast. Can't do without it in winter."

His birthday:

"Whose birthday? ...Mine? Oh... Forgot all about it. ...Thanks."

Your birthday:

"Today's your birthday, yeah? ... Get your stuff. I'll take you for a drive."

New Years:

"You helped us out a lot last year. Hope you'll stick around."

Valentine's Day:

"This chocolate's for me? Do everything proper, don't you? Thanks. I appreciate it."

HE SMILED AGAIN. I wonder if he's ever been given valentine's chocolate before. Even if he thinks it's just out of obligation, I think he must be really happy. . . .

White Day:

"White Day's when you repay people for what they got you on Valentine's Day, right? Sorry if these aren't your thing... Didn't really know what you like..."

. . .my first thought was that i read that sometimes lingerie is given as a white day return present. . .and i just imagined that Alan asked what he was supposed to do if he liked the person he got a valentine's day gift from on valentine's and Leo saw an opportunity for chaos and said to get them some sexy white underwear and Alan just. . .believed him. And it's a very embarrassing moment for everyone involved. pc absolutely wears them when alan asks them out for things tho. waiting for the day alan finds out they're wearing it.

April Fool's Day:

"I'm actually a dog. Woof. ...Sorry, that was a lie. Forget I said anything."

he's a little confused but he's got the spirit.

Halloween:

"Saw an anomaly I'd never seen before just now. Ran away when I tried to stop it. That's when I realized it was a human."

i would not be surprised if his upbringing was sheltered and he just did not know about halloween to begin with haha

Christmas:

"...You should spend Christmas with family."

Well everyone's stuck at Darkwick so that's not likely to happen. Also don't tell that to Sho. . .but we can be family now! And spend Christmas together!

Idle:

"...You okay?"

"...You seem busy. Let me know if you need anything."

Absent:

"...You came back. You look all right. We're gonna need you for the next mission."

SO YOU SEE HE'S A LOT KINDER AND SWEETER WHEN HIS AFFINITY GETS UP THERE. . .BUT HE'S STILL COLD. BECAUSE HE'S AFRAID. . .but you make him feel more comfortable. You help him feel less like a destructive monster and more like a person. Where he pushed you away before, he keeps you closer now. Still a little at arm's distance but much closer than before. I HOPE THIS HELPED YOU SEE MORE OF HIS PERSONALITY, ANON o/

[operationslipperypuppet]

Naddpod Carnegie based on what I can remember, post-show euphoria comedown. (That’s more for me so I can remember it later)

The music was played by a quintet, and the director was Emily’s brother, Brian. They were incredible.

Music started early and people talked through a lot of it but it was all incredible. When they played Kingshammer, everyone lost their shit after one note. When they finished we freaked out. We were correct to do this.

The whole two crew was dressed up and looked so great! Murph’s jacket was bedazzled.

The band stayed on stage for the show and played music under moments of it as it happened.

We started with the Boobs. They were nominated for the hit awards show, the Batubies, 5 years after the fall of Thiala. Bev was wearing a too-tight bow tie and grew a bad mustache. Hardwons outfit matched what Jake was wearing. Moonshine wild shaped just her torso into a penguin (still with huge boobs). Paw Paw was covered in hair gel and grew a perfect mustache. They were all gunning for pawpaw to win, and the photographers only wanted to photograph him.

Balnor was the host. He was possessed by a joke book, dungeons and laughies. He had veneers and Hardwon and Moonshine wanted some as well. Hardwon filed his teeth down to prepare, Moonsshine opted to wait for a dentist. The boobs HATED Balnor’s jokes. He hissed at them when they tried to take his book. Moonshine admitted to maybe being attracted to hissing Balnor.

The awards show started with an in memoriam to certain villains they’d killed. They were described: Josh - thrown out a window by Moonshine, The Crag - beheaded by Bev after a beheading song/dance (I do not remember lol), Galad - beheaded by Hardwon and then resurrected and beheaded by hardwons mom (jake blows kiss to Lydia), The Bear Prince - killed by Moonshine then brought back as a zombie so he could be killed by Hardwon, who was trapped in honey the whole fight, Thiala - eaten by Moonshine.

Awards were as follows: A best dramatic acting - they played clips from the actual pod; Hardwon finding out about his parents, Bev trying to resurrect Erlin when Thiala killed Pelor, Moonshine’s “child has a duty to his father, hero has a duty to the world”, and Donkey Kong’s recap of the wars - DK won. The audience was confused. Moonshine and Hardwon were angry because “that wasn’t canon”. DK sent in a video acceptance speech. Pendergreens won best redemption arc and gave a speech about how good Bowflexes are, and then Ren won a free bow flex. Coach Bortram won best smite, murph thought he remembered his voice. He did not

Best hero was the boobs rescinding their nominations so Paw Paw could win. Balnor, possessed, gave it to Galad, resurrecting him. Paw Paw was the only one to escape a restraining spell, and fled the theater, chosen knights in hot pursuit. The Boobs were annoyed with Balnor and when he died onstage were called out by Cobb and MeeMaw for being mean. It was nice to have Cobb.

Outside, he found the Triplets and Keychain, who were arguing with the astral worm bouncer because they weren’t on the list and Onyx dressed as one of the “Stranger Kids” cast to try to get in. (Murph still DMing, Caldwell as Keychain.) They wanted to kill Paw Paw (thought he was a weird dog) and were ready to fight the Chosen over it. Paw Paw rolled a nat 20 initiative, and ran again. Nyack killed 2 knights, Onyx killed 3 others. They got VIP passes and headed inside the theater, Onyx hitting on the astral worm along the way.

Paw Paw then found the Third Mates in a bar. Zirk drank windex, poisoned himself, and Fia and Hank also drank Windex. They talked about having Windex visions and seeing Windex Goblins. Paw Paw was familiar with the ladder. Bukvar could talk to Paw Paw and translated his distress to the Third Mates. He also asked why they drank Windex. Murph said that the bartender said “this only really sounds like one of you” and looked past zirk, very clearly calling out human man Caldwell. It was beautiful. They were ready to act, healed from poison by Paw Paw giving them water. Balnors evil book attacked, and Hank and Shank took it out in one turn, doing over 100 damage with an action surge. Murph was pleasantly shocked. Fia was able to use the disenchanted book to learn the spell to free everyone in the theater They then followed Paw Paw back to the theater.

Inside, everyone discovered that the Boobs had been kidnapped by Galad, who intended to use their blood to bring back Thiala. The only witnesses to this were our beloved Duck Team, who did not get restrained but didn’t help because they were busy playing smash on a DS.

Balnor, back alive, asked everyone to come help. There was some discussion over whether the triplets would go.

He took all the heroes in the Stormborn to the mountains of Irondeep. The triplets took over the captains quarters and claimed they already had rewards accounts. They tried to order chicken caesar salads from Calder, who could only find lettuce. Hank was steering, worried about gunk in the wheel. Fia was warming up the canons, Callie was in the crows nest. Sol was in the sails, Zirk got stuck in the engine. It was glorious.

Once in irondeep, they found Galad looming over the tied up boobs, stealing Rosaline back. They rolled initiative based on the highest dex of any of their characters and could choose one to take a turn as. It was dope as hell. Order was Galad, Jake, Emily, Caldwell.

Galad used his first turn to kill Jens. Turned him to dust. Murph demanded a sad song play for his death, and he got Valiant Ol’ Cobb. (Beautiful orchestration. Un fucking earned). The remaining triplets then explained his best moments to Balnor, including asking Keychain if he was a blender and watching Friends with headphones but the subs on so others could read it. Nyack shot at Galad. Onyx smacked the shit out of Galad (with the help of a chronal shift). Galad used legendaries to hit and then power word kill Nyack. Nyack blamed Calder due to the fact he didn’t have chicken on his salad. The familiars freed the boobs. Zirk helped Bev use a “blue smite” (Windex reference) on Galad. Galad attacked and crit on Onyx. Hardwon smacked the shit out of Galad and killed him once again.

Paw Paw was then given the divine power Galad had and Murph said the audience could decide if he resurrected Nyack and Jens. It was a split vote. In the end, only Nyack was resurrected.

We then ended the show with a One Big Bed singalong. It was so wonderful and sweet and perfect.

All in all, it was a great fucking show. What an absolute gift. Here’s to 5 more years.

[seasonsbloom]

bad habit (hangman)

read part ii, read part iii

pairing ; hangman x female!reader

synopsis ; the moment you meet hangman, you know you hate him. and then suddenly, you're not so sure anymore.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “when you look like me, you don’t really need any lines.”

wc ; 15k

warnings ; angst, explicit language, mentions of previous character death (reader’s mother dies of cancer), mentions of sexual activity, (some) explicit sexual activity, horrible dirty talk, age gap, hangman is sort of an asshole but not really, inexperienced reader

note ; i cannot believe i am posting this, it is so LONG and i am so embarrassed... at first it was just supposed to be pwp and then it suddenly had a LOT of plot and backstory and then i was at 15k and hadn't even really gotten to the smut part yet and now... i'm thinking... part 2? maybe? let me know if you're interested lol. anyways... first fic... yay?

Fightertown is all sand, suntan lotion, and contrails crisscrossing like latticework across the endless stretch of baby blue that is the Californian sky.

At first, you don’t know how to handle it. You’re from Seattle, which means an average of 156 rainy days a year, and here it feels like the only water you’re ever gonna feel again is the Pacific Ocean and the layers of sweat drying sticky on your skin when you wake up every day. You’re too stingy on your electrical bills to leave the fan spinning circles that herd stale air through your room all night, and it gives you a stuffy nose anyways, so you just suffer through it. Then, in the morning, you spend ten minutes standing under ice-cold water until your teeth chatter with enough force to hurt your jaw, only to forget once more what it feels like not to be hot minutes later.

Penny says you’ll get used to it eventually. But, two months in, you’re wondering if maybe she’s wrong.

“‘Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,/ Men were deceivers ever,-’” you read from the book in front of you. “‘One foot in sea and one on shore,/ To one thing constant never.’ Now, what does Shakespeare mean by that?” 

Amelia is starting to look like she’d rather be anywhere else. You’ve been at it for about 55 minutes, meaning you’ve got approximately 5 more left for today’s session. Usually, you’d call it quits by now and let her enjoy the remainder of her afternoon because she looks tired enough to fall asleep right here at the dinner table, but you don’t want to leave yet. You’d like to think it’s because you’re a sensible teacher. Most likely, though, it’s because the Benjamin residence is airconditioned, and Penny keeps that shit racked up to a moderate 71 degrees all day, and apparently, you’re a selfish bitch who will put her own need for heat relief before her student’s need for a reprieve from Shakespeare.

Which, like. Semantics.

“I don’t know,” Amelia says, chin resting in the open palm of her hand. She probably would know if she’d listened at all, but you’re pretty sure her mind is as much on the popsicles in the fridge as her eyes are on the clock on the wall.

“It means men are moody assholes who can’t stay faithful,” Penny says as she steps into the living room, ignoring her daughter’s scandalized Mom! “Pretty self-aware for the 16th century, don’t you think?”

You hum. “Pretty true, too.”

Penny laughs. “Don’t you know it? Take it as a life lesson, Amelia.” Then she extends something wrapped in colorful plastic in your direction. “Fudgesicle?”

Maybe some part of you should feel bad about exploiting the Benjamins for their aircon and free ice cream, but you’re sort of past that point.

“Thanks.” You take the fudgesicle and start unwrapping it without any further ado.

“Mom,” Amelia, her phone in one hand and her own ice cream in the other, asks as she gets up, “can I go upstairs now?”

“Ask your tutor,” Penny responds with a thumb pointed in your direction.

You shrug, preoccupied mainly with the flavor of chocolate and fudge melting on your tongue. Your bank account doesn’t really allow for luxuries like popsicles anymore, but, God, this must be heaven.

“Yeah, we’re pretty much done with Shakespeare today. Go over those pentameters again before the test, okay?”

“Sure.” Amelia smiles at you, already halfway to the door. “Thanks. See you next week.”

You wave at her turned back, and wait until she’s disappeared before you say, “She’s a good kid.”

Penny snorts. “A little glued to her phone, maybe.”

“I think that’s sorta par for the course.”

“Not very good with Shakespeare, either.”

“Now that’s definitely par for the course with a fifteen-year-old. Be glad they aren’t reading Hamlet.”

Penny laughs. She sinks into one of the unoccupied chairs at the dining table and stretches her legs out with a sigh. She’s already switched her usual cotton shorts for jeans which tells you she’s about to head over to her bar for the rest of the night.

“I guess I should count my blessings,” she says. “At her age, I’d already hijacked two planes with two different pilots.”

Penny’s stories about her teenage transgressions are always enough to make you feel stuck somewhere between awe and profound jealousy. Your own life is downright dull in comparison.

Then again, your life - and especially the romantic aspects of it - are downright dull compared to most things.

“You must have given your parents gray hairs,” you say, packing up your pencil and notebook in your tote bag. It’s not easy with only one free hand, but somehow you manage without leaving a trail of chocolate across Penny’s tabletop.

“I sure hope so.” 

You’re down to the part of your Fudgsicle where the wooden stick pokes out of the ice cream, and try to avoid licking at it accidentally. You hate the feeling of the wood against your tongue, but the whole thing is a bit difficult, as you’re also trying to eat at a pace you know will give you a stomach ache later.

You have to get out of here before Penny sinks her talons into you and…

“You should come by the Hard Deck today,” she says, and you bite back a groan.

Too late.

“I can’t,” you say semi-automatically, “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Roughly a month ago, you pinned a sheet of paper to the bulletin board at the gas station where you’ve been picking shifts up since you arrived in town, advertising Tutoring for English, Grades 1 to 12. Penny was the only person who answered. Since then, you’ve been coming to the house once a week to tutor Amelia and, unofficially, to be lectured by Penny on all the joys life has to offer.

Her words, not yours.

“No, you don’t. You never work Sundays,” Penny shoots back immediately. Then, at your frown, she just shrugs. “You can’t lie to me, sweetie. I used to do it professionally. It takes one to know one.”

You sigh. “I don’t know that I feel like going out tonight.”

“You’ll feel like it once you’re actually out.”

Having finished your fudgesicle, you place the stick carefully in the wrapper before getting up. You reach across the tabletop and heft up your complete edition of Shakespeare’s plays. The thing is thick enough that you like to keep it by your bedside, just in case you ever wake up to an intruder in your apartment. It definitely doubles as a defensive weapon.

Penny lets out the long-suffering sigh of someone over going through the interminable motions of this spiel the two of you have inadvertently established. “What are you going to do then, tonight?” she asks. “Eat Cup Noodles and read Shakespeare?”

You can feel your face heating up. That really had been the plan.

“Jane Austen, actually,” you mumble without looking at her, clutching the book to your chest like a shield.

“Just… come down tonight, yeah? It’ll do you good to see some people. You’re twenty-three, sweetie. You shouldn’t be sitting around all on your own,” she says gently. “Please?”

The thing about Penny is that beneath her cool-girl veneer, beneath the tough-as-steel attitude of a bar owner, beneath the badass single mom allures, she’s really, really kind. It lets her get away with stuff that would be unacceptable coming from anybody else, but it also means she’s coming from a place of love, most of the time. 

You know this. Which is why the next thing you ask is, “Does your bar have aircon?”

+

The dress was a mistake.

You know it the moment you step out of your Uber. It’s too short, so you just know you’ll be spending the rest of the night tugging at the hem every few minutes. It’s also low in the back where the tightly tied straps of the halter-neck slap against your shoulders, and that means everyone can probably see the patch of acne your dermatologist promised would subside after puberty. Turns out, all men really do is lie. So you’re also going to have to find a wall to perch against and maintain that position until it’s socially acceptable to leave without Penny being angry with you.

In short: you’re deeply uncomfortable.

You don’t even remember why you picked this out earlier, let alone why you bought it in the first place. A mixture of misplaced bravado and alcohol on a night of online shopping, probably. It’s just that there’s this thing you sometimes get, this peculiar tug in your stomach, this strange desire to be seen at the same time that you’re terrified. You want to be invisible, but sometimes you think you’ll die if you don’t get any attention.

Maybe you just want people to perceive you, but without any of the negative consequences that might come with it.

That’s not how the world works, though, a voice at the back of your head tells you that sounds so much like Penny it scares you.

You spend a good five minutes idling by the parked cars, turning your keys over and over and over in your hands. You have half a mind just to go back home.

The Hard Deck is spilling buttery yellow light into the darkness of the night, and people migrate to it like moths to a lamp. You can hear the music and the chattering of voices even from where you’re standing in the gravel parking lot. It’s the sort of thing that should probably make you excited, but instead, you feel the familiar swoop of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

Ridiculous, you scold yourself. You can’t honestly be afraid of a night in a bar.

Even past ten o’clock, with the sun set beyond the horizon in a display of pinks and oranges and blues so ostentatious it bordered on smugness - like the sky was saying, hey, look what I can do! - it’s still too hot. You can feel pearls of sweat beading in the nape of your neck, the tops of your thighs, the peak of your hairline. If you don’t go in now, the make-up you spent an embarrassingly long time perfecting will melt down your face in a puddle of mascara and lipgloss.

I’ll just stay for a while, you think. I’ll let Penny make me a pink and fruity cocktail, and then I’m going home in an hour. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay.

You’re really trying to hype yourself up as you climb the few steps to the front porch. A few people are milling about here, nursing beers, a couple making out towards the railing where the light doesn’t reach.

Inside, the air smells like sweat and beer and good times. There really is air conditioning, but it doesn’t do too much to dispel the heat of too many people pressing into too little space. People crowd towards the bar, a throng of them, as they nudge and poke to beat each other to the next drink order. It’s mostly people from the Army base, you realize, a little taken aback. A sea of short hair and tan uniforms, beers in hands, and smiles on faces. The jukebox is playing a Springsteen tune.

You’re distracted enough that when somebody bumps into you, you let out an actual yelp and almost lose your footing.

Large hands come up to steady you by the elbows. “Sorry, sweetheart,” someone says from behind you.

You turn on your heel quickly. The guy is beautiful, because of course he is. The sort of beautiful you can recognize even when you get only a glimpse of his jaw and shoulders. Tall, tan, fit.

Your heart skips a beat.

He’s also not looking at you at all, hands already gone from you, neck craned to presumably look for someone in the sea of people.

“Didn’t see you there,” he says, and then he’s strutting away from you just as quickly as he’d come.

And, okay… ouch.

Now you regret wanting to be invisible earlier. Turns out the actual thing does not feel good. Not one bit.

A pit opens up in your stomach, and you need to swallow down whatever emotion is rising in your throat. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to cry.

Then somebody calls your name across the room. It’s Penny, waving at you from behind the bar with a massive grin on her face, and you could fall to your knees with relief.

You push your way through the crowd, fighting elbows and knees until, finally, your palms hit the wooden counter. It’s sticky beneath your fingers. You cringe.

“You made it!” Penny cheers. She draws a perfect glass of beer from the tap even as she talks to you.

You’re reluctantly impressed.

“Yay!” you agree, miming sad little jazz hands.

Penny laughs, never one to let even the most pitiful excuse of a joke pass her by. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“I did promise,” you say. You didn’t mean for it to come out as defensive as it does.

Penny shakes her head, still smiling. She deposits the beers in the waiting hands of a Navy pilot, then turns to you. “I don’t doubt your integrity, sweetie. Just your commitment to having fun.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slowly letting your gaze wander over the overstuffed bar. “Fun.”

This time, Penny actually snorts. “Just have a drink, yeah? Relax.”

People have been telling you to relax for years now. You’re too tense, you’re too uptight, you gotta loosen up a little. They did it in high school. They did it when you were studying for an English degree in college you haven’t used even once in the year since your graduation. Hell, you’re pretty sure somebody did it when you were still showing up to kindergarten Halloween costume contests dressed up as a Math teacher while everybody else was a Power Ranger or a Princess.

It’s just a little difficult to relax when all you’ve got is childhood trauma, an apartment you can’t afford, friends you don’t talk to anymore, and student loans to pay off until the end of your life.

“I haven’t been relaxed a day in my life,” you say drily.

You can’t be sure because she’s turning to fill a row of shot glasses lined up neatly on the countertop, but you’re almost positive Penny is rolling her eyes.

“I could help you relax.” You know it’s the guy from earlier before you even turn to confirm your suspicion. He’s sidled up behind you, leaning half over your shoulder. This time, he glances down at you and has the audacity to send you a wink. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at that.”

Now that you know he’s a total sleaze, you feel better about how he ignored you earlier.

“Seriously?” you say. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

A grin spreads over his features. You realize he has an incredibly punchable face.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “when you look like me, you don’t really need any lines.”

You bristle. A remark you hope will be scathing builds up on the tip of your tongue, but you’re interrupted before you can let it loose.

“Hangman.” You’re seriously confused by the tone of genuine affection in Penny’s voice. What the hell is that about? “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a round of beers.” He lets his eyes drift down to you again, and his grin grows impossibly wider. “Plus whatever the little lady’s having. You can put it on my tab.”

Little lady. You’re about to vomit on the countertop. You’re definitely not feeling a strange tightening sensation in your stomach. Nope, no way.

“No, thank you,” you say pointedly. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

Never mind you know for a fact you have about ten dollars left in your wallet.

“Come on,” the guy says, nudging you a little where he’s still hovering over you. He’s so goddamn close. You can feel the heat he radiates, can smell the scent of his aftershave, something spicy yet sweet. When he speaks, his chest rumbles with the sound inches behind you. “See it as an apology for knocking into you earlier.”

So he does remember. You’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Penny is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle of something you can’t name in her eyes. It’s enough to inspire actual fear in you.

“Let me guess…” The guy pretends to think about it for a moment or two. “You want something pink and fruity, yeah?”

You can’t believe it’s that easy for him to read you, can’t believe the way it has instant, white-hot shame flashing through you. Now you really want to punch him.

Shoulders actually, genuinely shaking with all the anger piling up inside of you, you turn to face Penny. “Scotch,” you say. “Neat.”

Penny is staring at the two of you as if she’s watching a tennis match. Then, you become suddenly and uncomfortably aware of a bar full of people tailgating behind you, waiting their turn to order their drink.

While you’re starting to feel your skin itch with all the attention, the guy seems to have no qualms. His finger appears in your field of vision as he points at you. “You heard the little lady, Penny. One scotch. Neat.”

He over-pronounces the word, the t crisp and sharp, mocking you, and you grab the countertop hard enough your knuckles protrude white beneath the skin.

Penny shrugs and reaches beneath the bar to retrieve a glass and a bottle of scotch. Then, as if calling back to some inside joke, she says, “You got it, Hangman.”

That stuns you.

“Your name is Hangman?” you ask, and you can’t keep the genuine disbelief out of your voice. “What, did your parents hate you? What the fuck kinda name is that?”

He raises an eyebrow, but the smirk remains unrattled. “You got a pretty dirty mouth, huh, sweetheart?” 

“I can curse as much as I like, thank you very much.”

He hums, says, “We’ll see about that.” 

And when you look over your shoulder, you find him staring at your lips.

You whip back around, elbows squished between your body and the bar, heart beating a hundred miles a minute. Blindly, you stare straight ahead, through the open back doors, to where the moonlight reflects off ocean waves. Something is itching beneath your skin now. You have to calm down before you blow your fuse.

“Hangman,” he explains after a moment of silence, “is my callsign.”

That clarifies just about nothing to you. “Callsign?” you repeat. “What are you, a phone sex operator?”

It was supposed to be an insult, but he throws his head back, laughing like you made the funniest joke he’s ever heard. Then he leans forward, all the way into your personal space, chest pressing to your back, shoulders brushing yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he says, “If you want me to talk dirty to you, sweetheart, all you need to do is ask.”

It sort of wipes your mind clean. No thoughts, only your body reacting - stomach tightening, hairs standing on end, a shiver down your spine. Penny sets the scotch down in front of you, then breezes off to serve some other customers. You barely even see her. Your breaths are coming a little faster, your heart is beating a little harder.

Then he straightens up again, all points of contact suddenly gone. If you weren’t sandwiched between him and the bar with nowhere to go, you think you might tip over backward. It’s all so sudden it leaves you dizzy.

He chuckles, and you hold your ground. Refuse to look at him. If he has picked up on just how rattled he’s got you, you’d rather at least not know about it.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not a phone sex operator,” Hangman says. “I’m a fighter pilot. More dangerous, just as sexy.”

You twist around to get a better look at him. Then, for the first time, you take note of the khaki uniform. Nobody, you think, absolutely nobody, should be able to make that color work for them. And yet somehow, it brings out the green in his eyes.

“Bigger environmental footprint.”

It’s pretty weak, admittedly, but this whole night has spiraled into a realm you didn’t plan for so quickly that you can’t come up with anything else. As a result, you’re uncharacteristically out of your depth.

“Bigger everything,” he shoots back, raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

You don’t know how to counter that, so you take a sip of your scotch and then have to concentrate way too hard not to spit it right back out. The first time you ever tasted alcohol, you snuck a gulp from your dad’s class of Whiskey on the rocks. This is almost as vile, if not worse. Years of consuming margaritas exclusively seem to have dialed your tolerance for straight, hard liquor down to a solid zero. 

“You still sure about that drink?” Hangman asks. The amusement is so evident in the upward turn of his mouth that it makes you want to kick his teeth in or hide behind the counter with Penny. One of the two, just as long as you don’t have to keep looking at him. “I’ll buy you something else. Maybe Penny serves juice boxes.”

Just to spite him, you down the whole thing in a single, long drink.

It burns a trail of fire down your esophagus, and you have to fight a coughing fit so violent you’re not sure you aren’t about to choke. Big mistake, definitely. Huge.

You try your best to keep your face neutral, but your muscles aren’t cooperating. At least if Hangman’s smirk is anything to go by, he’s definitely called your bluff.

“Well, you took that like a trooper,” he says drily. 

Anger lodges in your throat.

“You must be the most insufferable pilot in the whole Navy,” you tell him, hoping all the distaste you feel for Hangman translates into your voice.

Not that it matters. He seems to be one of those guys so infatuated with themselves that everything just rolls off their shoulders, like water off a duck’s back.

“I like to think so,” he says amicably. “I excel at most things I try. Always strive for excellence.”

You’ve never considered yourself a particularly violent person, but you’re pretty sure you would have broken his nose right then and there if it hadn’t been for Penny choosing that exact moment to swoop in.

“Here are your drinks, Hangman.” She places them on the countertop, then jabs a thumb towards the back of the bar. Her voice goes a little pointed as she says, “I think your friends miss you.”

He doesn’t look annoyed to be interrupted, and you can’t believe it, but it puts a little dent in your pride. 

Just how stupid am I? you ask yourself, making a point to face away from him again.

Hangman twists his upper body to reach around you, somehow balancing three bottles in each hand, clamped between his fingers like he’s the alcoholic version of Edward Scissorhands. For a moment, you’re completely enveloped by him, in his arms, and it’s too much, definitely too much, goes straight to your head. You can smell him again, the aftershave and the body spray and the sweat, and as his chest presses flush to your back, you swear you can feel the beat of his heart against all that bare skin exposed by the dress.

“You ever need some help relaxing,” he says into your ear, and for an instant, you feel the ghost of his lips tracing against your ear lobe, “you just ask, yeah, sweetheart?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you clutching at the bar desperately. Your legs feel like jello, ready to give out beneath the weight of your body.

What the fuck just happened? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is still completely, absolutely blank.

Penny pops up out of nowhere like a meerkat. Something on her face tells you you’d better run for cover right now unless you want to get wrapped up in one of her schemes, but you’re rooted to the spot.

“So…” she drawls, and the grin blooming on her face is downright devious. “Hangman, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, rummaging through your purse just to have something to steady the tremors in your hands.

“He was so coming onto you.”

“He was not.”

“Oh, yeah, he totally was. That was aggressive even for Hangman standards, and, lord, that’s saying something.”

“Can I get, like… a glass of water?”

Penny ignores you. “You should totally go for it.”

She nods her head in the direction he disappeared, and you can’t help but follow with your eyes. A group of Navy pilots is shooting pool in the back towards the opened doors. Even among all the uniforms, Hangman sticks out to you - blond hair, tan skin, smirk you want to slap right off his face. He’s laughing at something the only woman in the group said - a real, full-bellied laugh - and then, out of the blue, as if he can feel your gaze, looks right up at you. 

Across the chaos of the bar, across the scattered tables, across the people swaying to the ABBA song playing from the jukebox, across the raised beer bottles and lowering shot glasses, he sends you a wink.

Feeling caught, you turn away instantly. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“No way,” you say. It doesn’t come out as firm as you want it to, your voice wavering, and you have half a mind to ask for a bucket of ice to thrust your head into. Maybe that could clear the cobwebs.

Penny laughs. “You sure, honey? You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I’m sure I do,” you agree. “From anger. I’ve never met somebody that obnoxious.”

It’s pretty clear you’re grasping at straws here.

“I’ve known him since he was a student at Top Gun. He’s a good guy,” Penny says. “Deep down.”

“How deep are we talking? Like Mariana Trench? Center of the earth?”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Come on. Stop thinking so much. Go and have some fun.”

You point at the sign hanging above her bar, the one she’s so proud of she has mentioned it to you several times. “I thought you were supposed to help out when somebody disrespects a lady in here.”

It makes her laugh, a genuine laugh full of amusement and affection that bursts out from deep in her belly. She pets your hand gently.

“You can handle yourself. I know it for a fact.” The smile goes from genuine to mischievous. “Besides… you could stand to be disrespected a little. In the bedroom.”

You gape at her retreating back for a moment.

Then you drop your face into your hands and mutter to yourself, “Oh, God.”

Again… what the fuck just happened?

+

“Hangman asked me to give him your number.”

Penny doesn’t even wait until the end of the lesson this time.

You’re at the Benjamin dining table, watching over Amelia’s shoulder as she writes a short paragraph on misogynistic themes in Much Ado About Nothing. All the ice cubes in your water glass have melted, and the condensation leaves rings on the tabletop and damp against your palms.

When you glance up from Amelia’s work, her mother is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded in front of her chest. She’s grinning. You look back at the notebook and pretend your heart hasn’t just started racing.

Amelia, whose pen has stilled, asks, “What’s a hangman?”

“Who,” Penny corrects. “He’s a guy interested in your tutor.”

“There’s only one c in unnecessary,” you say. “A shirt has one collar, two sleeves.”

Amelia doesn’t seem to have heard you. “Oh my god,” she says. “Is he cute?”

“Very,” Penny answers at the same time that you grit out, “Not at all.”

“Is he a pilot, too?” Amelia asks, shooting her mother a look you don’t miss.

For all that she is just a teenager with all the eccentricities and dramatics that entails, Amelia has what some would call an old soul. She’s always looking out for her mother, always thinking things through to the bitter ends that Penny would rather look at through the lenses of her perpetual rose-colored glasses.

It reminds you of yourself, and sometimes you want to hug Amelia, hold her, tell her she doesn’t need to take on all these battles. That she deserves to be a child, should revel in it for as long as she can. You don’t want her to end up like you, all this baggage and no one to help you carry it.

“Of course.” Penny, unperturbed, pushes into the room and pulls out a chair for herself. “Nobody can resist those Military men.”

You hide your snort behind a coughing fit just so you don’t give Penny the satisfaction of thinking she’s actually funny. She doesn’t deserve that.

“When did you meet him?”

“Saturday, at your mom’s bar,” you explain, pulling her notebook towards you. “And we didn’t meet. He almost knocked me over and then proceeded to mock me for ten minutes. Not exactly romantic.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. He was flirting with her like crazy.”

You pretend to be busy scanning over Amelia’s writing, but you don’t register much past the words Hero and Claudio.

“Which one is Hangman again?” Amelia asks. She sounds much too invested in this for your liking.

“The blond one.”

“Oh, with the green eyes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wait, he’s so cute.”

You groan and drop your head onto the tabletop.

So yeah, maybe there are people out there with real problems. People that are starving or people that have lost their homes. Compare your situation to them, and your toil will seem like nothing. All that is true. But right now, at this moment, you can’t imagine a fate worse than having both Benjamin women pouncing on you like this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetie.” Penny pats the top of your head like you’re a small dog. A miniature poodle or something. “If anything, Hangman will be a good time.”

You turn your head so your cheek is pressed against the wood of the table and glare at her. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this in front of your teenage daughter.”

“This isn’t the worst conversation she’s had in front of me,” Amelia says. She’s doodling something in the top corner of her essay. At your skeptical look, she shrugs. “Mom gets chatty when she’s drunk.”

“What I’m saying,” Penny continues, voice rising just a little, “is that you won’t regret giving Hangman your number. You need to loosen up a little.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t notice that innuendo,” you mumble under your breath, then sit back up abruptly. “Absolutely no way. He’s not getting my number.”

“I think it would be cool if you had a boyfriend,” Amelia interjects.

“You and me both, baby,” Penny agrees, leaning across the table to take a sip of Amelia’s sugar-free Mountain Dew.

You are going to start screaming spontaneously any minute now.

“I’m perfectly fine being single.”

Amelia grimaces. “You literally know half of Much Ado About Nothing by heart.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Penny reassures quickly and gives her daughter a placating look. “Just that you might have a bit too much time on your hands.”

“That’s not true. I work six days a week.”

“Exactly!” Penny smiles from ear to ear. It’s almost angelic, that smile. You can’t believe there’s an actual demon hiding behind it. “Which is why I should give Hangman your number. You have to have some fun at least one day a week.”

“I agree,” Amelia says.

“Am I still getting paid for this?” you ask, glancing at your phone to get the time. “Does this stay on the clock?”

Penny doesn’t answer your question. “I just think anybody in Fightertown needs to go on at least one date with a Navy pilot. It’s a rite of passage, really.”

“Aren’t there any other eligible pilots around then? Somebody nice? Literally anybody else?”

Penny’s smile turns soft. “You’re not seriously trying to convince me you’d be content with a nice guy, are you?”

That gives you pause. “What’s wrong with nice guys?”

“Absolutely nothing. Just… I don’t think nice is what you need at all, sweetie.”

You exhale loudly and then sit up, shaking away the strands of hair plastered to your cheek. “I don’t think I could stand being around Hangman either.”

“I’m not saying you should get married to the guy,” Penny acquiesces, “just… go on one date.”

You think about it for a moment. Think about dressing up in your prettiest dress, waiting outside your shitty apartment complex for Hangman to pick you up. Would he wear his uniform again or civilian clothes? You imagine him in jeans and a t-shirt, a hoodie for when it gets colder, the way the fabric would hug his broad shoulders. Would he take you to a restaurant or to the movies? No, Hangman seems like the type of guy to take you somewhere he can show off, you decide, to go bowling or surfing or something equally embarrassing for you, gratifying for him. You think about sharing a bottle of beer on the beach, the ocean spreading far and wide and blue in front of you, waves cresting, the moon gleaming, his warm hand on your back, his voice so close to your ear. Think of drawing him closer, his breath on your mouth, his touch on your hips…

You shake your head to banish the thoughts.

No way, you think, and something inside of you flutters with the sudden fear of it all, no way I can do this.

“I don’t think so, Penny,” you say. Your voice has gone quiet, dispassionate but firm, and you know Penny will know not to push further. “We should get finished with this lesson.”

Penny is quiet for so long that you know she’s swallowing down words. So you make it a point not to look at her. 

There’s a fear inside of you, a fear that stands in doorways and won’t let you pass. A fear that blocks the pathways of your life. You’ve been static for so long now that you don’t know how to shake it. Sometimes you don’t even know if you want to.

There’s something reassuring about not moving. It means you won’t get lost.

Finally, Penny sighs. “Alright,” she says, rapping her knuckles against the tabletop. “Be good, you two.”

You concentrate on the words blurring and sliding off the page in front of you and ignore the insistent, nagging voice at the back of your head chanting coward coward coward.

+

It’s Friday, but you’re not feeling at all inclined to thank God for it.

The gas station is deserted, which, in your humble opinion, is much worse than when it’s busy. Because no costumers mean nothing to do and nothing to do means nothing to occupy your mind with, and nothing to occupy your mind with means thinking, thinking, thinking.

You’re like a broken record - getting halfway through a thought before you circle back to the beginning, endless loops cartwheeling around and around.

It goes: Penny, Amelia, Hangman, Saturdays at the Hard Deck, Arizona Ice Tea spill in aisle four, Hangman, Hangman, Hangman… record scratch, pause, tape spooling, rewinding, replaying.

You’re so bored you’ve counted all the ceiling tiles four times. On the radio, they’re talking about the weather. The slushie machine is spinning cherry-colored ice with little, gurgling sounds.

The bell chimes, and you barely look up from your phone screen. A few lowered voices, the sound of laughter, and shuffling feet on linoleum floors as the group approaches the glass walls behind which row after row of drinks stands huddled can to can in the blessed cool. You blow a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

And you must have done something really horrible in a past life - there’s no other explanation for why the universe keeps doing this to you.

Hangman is leaning against the counter, one elbow braced on the top, the other arm lifting to flick his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. He’s smirking, and the expression has become so familiar already that you think it might be melded with his face. You pretend not to notice the sleeve of his uniform straining against his bicep.

“Are you stalking me?” you ask.

“Definitely not.” Stepping away from the counter, he lifts a sixpack into the air. “I’m buying beer.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You got any ID?”

It punches a laugh out of him, and you don’t like it. You weren’t aiming to amuse him - you want to annoy him. You want to make his skin crawl the way he does to you. You want to slip inside his mind and burrow there, stay there, get lodged there. A splinter in his finger. A thorn in his side.

The intensity of it scares you, and when you reach for your water bottle, playing with the cap, your hands are shaking.

He reaches into his pocket and gets out his wallet. The picture on his driver’s license is old; He’s younger in it but no less handsome. His hair is just as blond, his eyes just as green. There's nothing ridiculous about it, unlike the botched photo you took at the DMV years ago.

You glance at his date of birth belatedly, almost like an afterthought, then do the mental math quickly. Not because you think he isn’t old enough to buy the beer. Just to find out how big the gap between him and you is.

Seven years. Seven years… you don’t know what that means. You don’t know why you care.

“Alright.” You move to ring up the sixpack, but he shakes his head.

“Waiting for my friends,” he explains with a thumb thrown over his shoulder.

“You have friends?”

He laughs again. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not trying to be,” you mutter and, resolved not to engage with him any further, pick your phone back up and settle in against the shelf of cigarettes behind you to ignore him.

He is having none of it, and you’re not even surprised.

“I liked the dress better, but those shorts aren’t half bad either.”

You look down at your work uniform of white denim shorts and a hideously orange vest with your name tag pinned to the chest. It is a downgrade from Saturday’s outfit, that’s for sure, but you haven’t settled on how you feel that he remembers it yet.

“I didn’t think you noticed my dress,” you say.

“Sweetheart, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice that dress.”

It has you lifting an eyebrow, seeing an in. “Oh, so you admit you’re an idiot then? Since you ran into me and all?”

His smirk goes just a fraction wider. “Maybe I did it on purpose.”

“You run into girls on purpose often?”

“Only the real pretty ones.”

It makes your head spin because… things like this just don’t happen to you. Not with guys like Hangman, at least. And it’s not even because you think you’re ugly or unappealing. Rationally you know you’re not. It’s just that he’s so… he’s so…

“What, am I so handsome you’re speechless?”

He’s so goddamn insufferable.

“You torturing this poor girl, Hang?” 

You recognize the woman from last Saturday, her sharp cheekbones, the glossy hair sleeked back into an army-mandated but nonetheless impressive coil at the back of her neck. She’s pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head, which already makes her less of a show-off than Hangman by a mile. The smile she gives you is genuine and warm, and you feel yourself relax.

Anything’s better than being alone with Hangman.

“Oh, hardly.” Hangman shuffles to the side to let the woman heave another six-pack onto the counter. “If anything, she’s the one torturing me.”

There’s a literal ball of fire in your stomach, radiating heat all the way up to your cheeks. You must be looking like a deer caught in headlights right now.

The woman purses her lips. There’s so much derision in this one minuscule expression that it has actual jealousy jolting through you. Man, if only you could look at Hangman like that, you might actually make some sort of impact on him.

“Stop lying, man.” The woman rolls her eyes and then shares a look with you, something conspiratorial, something long-suffering only women can share in the presence of a man severely overestimating his own desirability. “She’ll punch you before she lets you take her out.”

Hangman shrugs. “Fine with me. It’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“What the fuck,” you mumble and busy yourself with the register.

“Is he bothering ladies again?” Two other men in Navy uniforms step up. One, tall, dark-skinned, mustachioed, dumps a whole armful of snacks on the counter, then grins at you a little sheepishly. 

“Always,” the woman answers without missing a beat.

Hangman says, “I’m not bothering her if she enjoys it.”

You’re almost entirely positive that he winked at you again, but you make it a point not to look up and start scanning items instead. 

“You guys need any bags?”

“That’s alright,” the woman answers.

They chat among themselves as you ring them up, but you can feel Hangman’s eyes on you the whole time. It’s enough to make you feeble, clumsy, and try your best not to drop anything.

You don’t know what compels you to say something. By all means, you should stay quiet. Let him leave. Never think about it again.

Instead, you pick up a bag of flaming hot Cheetos and say, as casually as you can manage, “Are you having a party?”

“Bonfire,” Hangman corrects. His elbow is still balanced on the counter, all that tanned skin, and you let your eyes follow the trail of his arm, up to his chest where his name tag spells SERESIN, all in capital letters. You pause there, staring at the name. “On the beach.”

You think that’s going to be it, that you’re going to ring him up and send him home. You’ll bite your tongue bloody before you say another word.

But then he continues, “You should come.”

He hasn’t been exactly subtle in his flirting, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet somehow it does, enough to stun you. Maybe it’s just your lack of self-confidence, but such a blatant invitation to spend an evening not just with him but with all his friends, makes your brain short-circuit.

“I have to work,” you answer almost automatically, brain operating completely on auto-pilot.

He lifts his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “After work, then.”

You open your mouth but can’t come up with another excuse, so you just settle on, “Your total is 42,98.”

You think he will fight you on it like he’s been fighting you on everything since the first time you met. But he just smirks, only one side of his mouth lifting, and gets his card from his pocket.

“I’ll pay,” he says.

When you accept his card, you take painfully meticulous care not to let your fingers brush against his.

The woman watches the whole exchange, and as you glance at her, something unreadable, some tiny flicker of emotion crosses her face before a genuine, slight smile replaces it.

Hangman stores his wallet in his pocket and starts collecting snacks in both arms, as do the other two men. You watch it all with a strange feeling fluttering in your chest, something that grows in your throat, threatening to choke you.

You wonder what it would be like to live in the moment, to stop thinking of consequences, stop weighting every decision with scales, overthinking every issue until you’ve looked at it from every angle and still haven’t found a single solution. You wonder what it would be like to throw your hands up in the air, say fuck it, who cares, wait for the end of your shift and drive down to that beach, get drunk on the beer you sold to the most obnoxious pilot in the history of the Navy, to take him home later and then have him inevitably never call you or text you or even speak to you again.

You wonder what it would be like not to feel the weight of the world drag you down, down, down.

“See you around, sweetheart,” Hangman says, smirking, pushing his aviators back up the bridge of his nose until the green eyes disappear behind the dark shades, until he’s obstructed from view. Until he becomes once more just a guy you pass on shopping streets, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful to ever talk to you. He turns towards the door, the other two in tow.

If he looks back, you think, torn between wishing and dreading, if he looks back, I’ll go.

He doesn’t look back.

Only the woman hangs back, looking at you with the same expression you can’t make light of. Curiosity, maybe. Interest.

“He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” she asks after a moment.

Her voice is different now, less harsh somehow. Softer.

You can’t even imagine what it must be like to try and make it as a woman in a world that’s still as obviously run by men as the army. You suppose there’s some amount of adjustment involved, some posturing. A shell as thick as armor.

“It’s… it’s fine. He’s harmless.” You’re surprised at your own words but not as surprised as you are to find that you actually mean them.

No part of you feels threatened by Hangman; no part of you feels unsafe or intimidated. You’ve been hit on by enough sleazy men in bars to know that that’s a rarity.

“He can be a lot, sometimes.”

You snort. “I can tell. If anyone’s in danger here, though, it’s him.”

She raises an eyebrow, and her sunglasses, still pushed into her hair, climb with the movement. “How so?”

“If he keeps going as he has been, I’ll punch him in the face.”

She grins and says, “I don’t doubt it.”

It’s nice. Pleasant. Easy.

You can’t remember the last time you spoke to somebody close to your own age like this, almost like you’re friends. At the realization, your heart gives a painful pang.

“I’m Phoenix, by the way,” she says, offering you a hand across the counter.

You take it without hesitation and smile at her as you tell her your name.

She nods. “We usually hang around the Hard Deck on Saturdays if you ever want to come by.”

“Oh,” you say, “Thank you.”

It’s a genuine offer, you can tell. She doesn’t strike you as somebody who says things she doesn’t mean, and that’s why it’s special to you.

She nods again, says goodbye, and pushes off the counter.

By the door, she pauses suddenly. Then, with one hand already on the handle, she glances back at you.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Phoenix says, face gentle, and you don’t need to ask who she’s talking about. “He’s just… he’s just Hangman. He acts like an asshole, but he’s a softie on the inside.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, unsure how to answer.

Phoenix shrugs. “I just thought you should know,” she says.

The bell above the door rings as she steps outside. A gust of warm wind blows in. The aircon groans once and pumps more stale, cool air into the room. The radio is stuck on a Katy Perry song. You tap your fingers against the countertop in a rhythmless pattern, squeeze your eyes shut, and think of the long, long stretch of nothingness that extends before you.

+

Three months ago, you packed your life into a car.

It had never been part of the plan. Because that was a thing you used to have, once upon a time - a plan. You knew exactly what you wanted, from the job to the dog breed to the car. There was a house down the road from your parents, a house with a blue door and a white fence, and a tire swing dangling from the branches of an old, twisting willow tree, and you had known you’d buy it one day since you were five.

When you were eight, you used to run past that house every day to catch the school bus, thinking what it would be like to be up on that swing, kicking your legs and soaring higher, higher, higher, up into the blue of the sky. When you were fifteen, you wondered what it would be like to live in a house with two stories, a house where things wouldn’t be cramped, where you didn’t have to spend fifteen minutes waiting for the only bathroom to be free, where you didn’t hit your elbows and knees and shins and toes on all the nooks and crannies and rusting nails protruding from wood. Finally, when you were twenty, you wondered what it would be like to come home from work to a husband who loved you and kids who smiled at you.

So you used to have a plan. Go to college, get a job, grow up, get married, buy that house. You used to have things figured out.

And then your mother died.

You remember watching her as she began to fade, as she went translucent like the paper she used to wrap your sandwiches in. As cancer dissected her, flayed her open, ate away her edges, a little more each day. As she went from vibrant colors to shades of gray, film history reversing itself. You remember when it got so bad, you left college to go back home, to sit by her bedside every day, to feed her by the spoon as she had once fed you, to read to her from the books you had once studied in 8 am classes, from Bronte and Joyce and Fitzgerald.

One morning you walked into her room, expecting to see her awake, and found that she’d gone cold in the night instead. To this day, you’ll never forget how that felt - the grief of it, instant and cleaving you in two, the panic of practicality, of not knowing what to do or who to call. And then the relief, that horrible, warped thing that welled up inside of you, that you still can’t forgive yourself for, because at least it was finally over, all that suffering and all that waiting around for the inevitable.

It was a small funeral. Your parents divorced years ago, back in the cartoon and apple juice days of your life, and your father was clumsy as always, a stranger in the face of the familiarity you’d shared with your mother. Just a touch of his fingertips to your shoulder at an open grave, a downward twist to his mouth, whispering sorry, kiddo, before he disappeared back into the lovely townhouse with his new family and the younger, more agreeable versions of you, the children he’d actually wanted. Back to sending you a birthday card a week late or a month late or not at all and never calling and never visiting and scheduling Facetime calls he forgot about in favor of dance recitals or school plays.

So then you were alone. Resoundingly. Irrevocably.

You finished college in a daze, graduated just because you had gotten halfway there, and dropping out seemed like a bigger hassle than finishing. Found yourself with a degree you no longer remembered what you had wanted to do with in the first place and all those crippling student loans. 

That house with the blue door and the white fence and the tire swing on the willow tree had lost its meaning. Your plan had turned to dust and slipped through your fingers, had been buried right alongside your mother.

So you sold your mother’s place (because who wants a house full of ghosts anyway, a house where each room reminds you of something that will spend the rest of your life missing from you) and got in your car, and you drove. You drove along the coast, through the thick trees of Washington, past the streams of Oregon, through the deserts of California, and when your car finally broke down in Fightertown, you said, fuck it, whatever, might as well, other places suck too. And you stayed.

It has remained the only time in your life you have ever acted on impulse, ever let your heart decide instead of your head, and you’re still not sure if it was the right decision.

You spend your days now trying to scrape together enough money to pay for your electricity bills and your rent and your gas. Just enough to get a frozen yogurt every once in a while. Just enough money so you don’t have to think about money all the time, counting it, saving it, missing it.

It’s sad, you think, when you’re alone at night, spread-eagle on your bed, limbs dangling off the sides of the mattress, staring up at the water stain spreading like a plume of smoke across your ceiling. A sad, little life with no direction.

You’re wallowing, and you know you are. Your penchant for dramatics is getting the best of you.

Most days, it’s not so bad. You like Penny, and you like Amelia, and the other day you went to see a movie at the theater, and that was nice. You like your books and your music and the Reese’s peanut butter cups you buy with your employee discount at the gas station. You like the beach, the taste of salt on your lips, and how the sun feels on the tip of your nose.

So most days, it’s not so bad. And then sometimes, it is.

Then it settles around like a dark cloud, like a fear you just can’t shake. That nagging anxiety in the pit of your stomach that seems to have no cause and no solution gnaws at you, yaps around your ankles, sinks its fangs into you, and won’t let go.

That’s when you curl into bed (but not under the covers because it’s still California and still too hot and still too expensive to keep the fan spinning) and blink into the nothingness and don’t move. And that’s when you dream, or else the dread of it all will swallow you whole and never spit you out again.

So you tell yourself that’s why you’re here again, at the Hard Deck, for the second week in a row, choosing to spend your Saturday with a bunch of sweaty drunk people instead of a family-size pizza. It’s just because you want to avoid the maelstrom of your mind.

It’s definitely not because you couldn’t stand the echoing loneliness of your shitty apartment anymore. It’s definitely not because Phoenix invited you and just seemed so goddamn nice. And it’s most definitely, a 100 percent certainly, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die, not because of Hangman. 

You’ll go to your grave swearing that.

When you shuffle into the bar, Penny stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. It’s early enough that there’s still space to move.

“What the hell?” she says, abandoning her task completely in favor of turning to gawk at you. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug your shoulders, trying for nonchalance even as you feel like there are tiny bugs wriggling beneath your skin. Too many eyes on you. “I was craving a drink.”

Penny raises an eyebrow in what you recognize as the international sign of not convincing enough.

“Who the hell are you,” she asks, “and what have you done with my daughter’s tutor?”

Ducking your head, you clumsily climb onto one of the barstools and fold your arms on the counter. Then you try to look around the bar as inconspicuously as possible.

“He’s not here yet,” Penny says.

“Huh?” Feeling caught, you busy yourself with adjusting the hem of your skirt, so it covers as much thigh space as possible. “What?”

Penny doesn’t even pretend to buy it for your benefit. “Hangman,” she says. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

You stiffen, alarm bells going off in your head. If she can read you this easily…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“Oh, come on, sweetie.” She pats your hand in a gesture you can’t describe as anything but pacifying. “It’s alright.”

Your face feels hot. “It’s not like that,” you say, but even you can tell it’s a feeble attempt at an argument.

Penny chuckles. It’s not a mean sound, quite the opposite, actually, but it still makes your heart sink an inch or two.

“There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to someone, you know?”

That has you bristling. “I’m not attracted to him,” you protest. “I hate him.”

Utterly unbothered by the note of distress that has snuck its way into your voice, Penny shakes her head, an affectionate smile playing about her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of hate-fucking either.”

The gasp her words elicit from you is downright scandalized. You throw a furtive look at the patrons around you to make sure nobody heard, but that just makes Penny’s smile grow.

At least one of you is having fun.

“I’m not going to hate fuck anybody,” you say and then immediately wish your voice had sounded more firm. Less squeaky.

Penny shrugs. “Alright. It’s a fine line between love and hate anyway.”

“Why does everybody keep telling me that?” you whisper.

Either Penny doesn’t think that worthy of an answer, or she didn’t hear you. Which is fine either way. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway.

“So what do you want to drink, then?” Penny asks, finally seeming to decide to indulge you just a little.

Finally you perk up. “Can you make me a Mojito?”

You spend the better part of an hour sitting at the bar, telling yourself you’re definitely not waiting around for him. You’re only here to get drunk.

But the longer you sit alone, watching people around you enjoying themselves, watching as the chatter goes from quiet to deafening, as the place fills up with a steady stream of patrons, the worse of an idea the whole thing seems like. You can’t remember what provoked you to come in the first place for the life of you.

Suddenly, your bed, a gaping, looming lion’s mouth earlier, seems like the most inviting place in the world.

“Penny,” you call, leaning across the counter and waving your hand to get her attention. “Can I just pay, please?”

“You’re going home?”

“I… yeah. I think so.”

With the way Penny is frowning at you, you can tell she isn’t too pleased, but she doesn’t fight you on it.

“I’ll let you go home, but you’re not paying,” she says.

“Penny, you already pay me. You don’t need to let me drink here for free, too.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I’m not. Hangman said to put anything you drink on his tab if you ever show up again.”

That gives you pause, your stomach tightening. “I can’t accept that,” you say, and your voice comes out strangely choked.

“Oh, but you can.”

It’s Hangman, because of course it is. He seems to have an uncanny ability to show up whenever you do so much as think of him. Like he can sense any mention of his name even from miles away. His ego is certainly big enough.

Grinning, he claims the empty space at the bar next to you, leaning his back against it with both elbows braced on the wood. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let a girl as pretty as you pay for her own drinks, now would I?”

“Gentleman,” you repeat under your breath. “We’re just saying whatever now, huh?”

He ignores that, twisting around instead to chirp, “Penny, darling, light of my life, will you get her another… what is that, a virgin Mojito?”

You wish you could come up with something witty, but you’re distracted by the long, long stretch of his legs, and all that comes out is, “I drink them with alcohol, actually.”

“Really? Is it only scotch you have trouble with then?”

Now this reminds you just why you hate this guy. Who cares if he’s handsome? Who cares if your heart starts cartwheeling every time he smirks at you? He’s a certified, purebred bastard, and you’re seriously considering if the satisfaction of breaking his nose would be worth the inevitable lawsuit.

“I don’t need you to pay for my drink,” you say, voice firm this time.

“I know,” he counters, still smiling, “but I’m pretty sure the Navy pays me better than whatever you’re making at that gas station, so I don’t mind. Just stop being difficult and let me pay for whatever you order.” 

The anger settles in your throat, already familiar. It’s difficult to keep it down, to keep your head from exploding.

“Fine,” you grit out from between clenched teeth. Then you turn away. “Penny? One round for everybody. It’s on him.”

The smile slides off Hangman’s face, his expression morphing into something stunned. For a moment, he actually looks impressed.

Then he laughs and shakes his head. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was something like begrudging admiration flickering across the planes of his face.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll hand it to you, sweetheart. That was well played.”

He gives Penny the okay, smirk once more firmly in place. And you, triumph so short-lived that it dies inside you like a pathetic little candle snuffed out by a typhoon, consider letting loose a long, echoing screech. 

Is there anything that will break that steely resolve of arrogance he carries everywhere he goes?

Penny rings the bell, and the answering cheer almost pops your eardrums. You turn away from Hangman before you do resort to violence and drain the last of your cocktail in a single sip.

“I’m going home,” you say and hop off the barstool. It brings you inevitably closer to Hangman, your thighs brushing his, and you pretend not to notice.

“So soon?” he asks, and you don’t need to turn to know he has raised one eyebrow. “I only just got here.”

“Hence my leaving,” you counter drily.

“And here I was thinking you wore this dress for me.”

He doesn’t touch you, but for a moment his fingers hook into the soft pink fabric of your dress, where it flares out around your hips. It’s enough to send a shiver down your back.

The worst part of it all, you think, is that he isn’t wrong. You upended the contents of your wardrobe earlier tonight until every available surface in your room - from the bed to the chair to the floor - was covered in clothes you deemed just not right. This number - flimsy, tight, low in the chest but a little more modest where the hem hits almost halfway down your thighs - was buried at the back of your closet, practically forgotten and with the price tag still on. Even as you laughed at how ridiculous you were being, part of you hoped he might notice.

And now that he has, you’re wishing you could rewind time and exchange the infernal thing for sweatpants and an old flannel.

“You’re way too full of yourself,” you tell him.

“So I’ve been told.” He gives you another once over, and suddenly you feel as if you’re standing naked in the middle of this bar. “This one’s spectacular, too, sweetheart, but I still maintain that first dress was my favorite.”

Somewhere between flattered and fed-up, you shoulder your purse. “Goodbye, Hangman.”

“Oh, come on.” He steps to block your path but makes no further move to touch you. “Have another drink with me.”

You’re about to protest when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“You really need to learn how to take no for an answer, Bagman,” Phoenix says. “The lady’s not interested.”

You can feel the smile spreading on your face. Just in time, you think.

Ignoring Hangman completely, she turns to you. “You wanna shoot some pool with my friends and me?”

You glance at Hangman from the corner of your eye, unsure whether you hope she counts him among those friends or not. Then you nod because Phoenix is still nice, and you don’t actually want to go home to your empty apartment, and playing pool sounds fun just about now.

“Sure. Why not?”

As Phoenix leads you toward the tables in the back, you feel Hangman’s eyes on you like hot irons.

+

You’re five drinks in by the time you give up on pool.

“God,” you whine, lowering your cue. “I suck at this.”

“I’d disagree,” Payback says, staring down at the green felt of the table like he might be about to cry, “but I think you’re right.”

“Hey, we’re supposed to be on the same team!”

He grins. “Sorry, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar.”

There’s a warmth flooding your chest, something liquid and light. It might be the alcohol or the unfamiliar levity of it all. You’re more used to intense fits of worrying and anxiety than laughter with people you met only about an hour ago but still almost feel like friends.

“Want me to teach you, sweetheart?” 

Hangman’s sitting on a barstool not far away, nursing his beer. He’s been staring at you since you started the game, and maybe it's part of the reason your cue stick kept going in directions you didn’t mean for it to. Now you can just hear the smirk in his voice.

If you were less drunk, you’d come up with a witty response. But, as it stands, you just say, “No.”

Hangman ignores you. You can feel him behind you even before he steps up, your fingers tensing around your cue, your whole body locking up as if in anticipation, as if in dread. And then he’s there, solid and warm behind you, fingers curling around your arm and moving it backward.

The place he touches you seems to tingle.

“Like this,” he says, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. He’s speaking right into your ear again, and suddenly it’s impossible to talk, to think, to breathe.

He brings you into position with one hand on your waist, and you can’t believe it, but he’s practically bending you over that pool table in the middle of that bar, and you’re just letting him. His hips press into your own, an insistent weight that makes your head spin, makes you feel like you’re about to slide right off the face of the earth. The table's edge cuts into your abdomen, but you barely even feel it. You can’t register anything past the feeling of his skin gliding against your own as he lets his free hand wander slowly, slowly, down the expanse of your arm.

“Now, just gently…” He guides your arm backward as he speaks, his voice right in your ear, right in your head, his breath against your cheek, the side of your mouth, and you’re dizzy, can’t even see the ball that’s right in front of you, have no idea what he wants you to shoot at. “... thrust.”

The ball lands in the pocket with a resounding thunk.

For a moment, you just blink at where it disappeared.

“Good girl,” Hangman says, so quietly that only you can hear, fingers squeezing just once where he still holds you by the hip, and then he steps away.

It sends a jolt of molten heat through you. Your knees, which felt wobbly before, threaten to buckle. You just stay there for a moment, frozen, bent over that table, feeling like the earth beneath your feet is rolling in waves. A sound escapes you, something from low in your throat that gets swallowed up in the bar's noise - all the chatter and the music and the sounds of the engines running in the parking lot.

And then it’s an ice-cold panic that has you scrambling, standing upright, stepping away from the table, turning towards the group of people around you, and pretending you’re not trembling all over, that your panties aren’t soaked through.

“I’m done, I think.” You raise your cue above your head like a sports trophy. Your voice is remarkably firm for how frail you feel. “Who wants to take over for me?”

There’s a shuffle as a few of the guys whose names you can’t remember start fighting each other for your spot on Payback’s team. You give up after a while and just drop the cue. Somebody catches it before it can clatter to the ground, and you turn your back on them.

Tugging at the folds of your skirt, you try desperately to regain control. The evening is slipping through your fingers like wet rope. You feel unmoored.

Phoenix, grinning from her perch against the jukebox, offers you a swig from her beer bottle. “I think you weren’t too bad.”

“Well, I did keep forgetting if I was supposed to hit the stripes or the solids, so, like….” you admit, accepting the bottle and taking a tentative sip. Maybe this will help calm you. The taste hits your tongue, and you grimace. “Ew. I don’t get how you guys drink this.”

Phoenix laughs at you. “It takes practice.”

“I don’t wanna practice that,” you say. “I’ll just get another Mojito, I think.”

You’re not going to survive this night unless you have another drink. Hell, you might not survive this night even if you have another drink.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this confused. Your mind is a thicket of thorns that bite your skin at any move.

Hangman leans forward in his seat until he’s in your field of vision. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way you haven’t seen before, but beneath them, his eyes glint. It hits you suddenly that he knows exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you.

You consider getting that cue stick back and whacking him over the head with it.

“You sure you want another one, sweetheart?”

You frown and say, more forcefully than necessary, “Why? You don’t wanna pay for it?”

“Oh, I’ll pay for it,” he says. “I’m just thinking somebody will have to carry you home if you have another one.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t love to carry her home,” Coyote chimes in, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. At least you think that’s Coyote. Things are starting to go a little blurry.

As you approach the bar, you say, a bite to your words, “I’ll make your dreams come true, then.” 

Penny is busy at the opposite end, so you order from a girl who seems a lot less interested in serving you than the group of aviators currently trying to get her attention. Which you can’t really blame her for.

From behind you, maybe-Coyote keeps going, “You should make some of his other dreams come true, too.”

Phoenix lands a well-placed elbow between his ribs. “Shut up, man. You’re being creepy.”

“I don’t sleep with drunk women,” Hangman says as the bartender deposits a dispassionately assembled Mojito in front of you. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

Your snort is decidedly unladylike, but you couldn’t care less. You’re so far gone. 

“You keep saying that, but I haven’t seen you act like one even once.” Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Also, I’m not drunk.”

You pull your drink towards you, the glass cold with the ice cubes swimming in it, and promptly spill a healthy stream across your own arm and the bartop.

“Sure you’re not,” Hangman agrees smoothly. He procures a stack of paper napkins from somewhere and starts dabbing at your elbow, soaking up the worst of it. You stare at his movement with your head spinning. Why is he being nice? “I’m not a gentleman in the bedroom, though, I’ll have you know.”

He winks at you, and that’s more like the nefarious Hangman you know. It lets you relax a little.

“Christ.” Phoenix looks like she might hurl. “You want to lay it on any thicker, Hang?”

He just shrugs, so casual about it all. You wonder if he’s ever been rattled by anything. If he’s ever felt as out of his depth as you do every time he enters a room. 

“Who doesn’t like it a little rough in the bedroom, Phoenix?”

You can’t believe he said that to her. Part of you expects Phoenix to roll her eyes and give him a piece of her mind, but she just grins, shaking her head.

“Me, actually,” she says. “Just leaves you sore. I prefer it slow.”

“Slow?” Hangman repeats. “You and Rooster would be a match made in heaven. Masters of the geriatric pace.”

“Who’s Rooster?” you ask, wondering if Hangman is trying to set Phoenix up with someone running a poultry farm.

Nobody answers your question.

“It’s been my experience,” Phoenix says, “that most guys only like it rough cause they have no idea how else to do it.”

Coyote laughs at that. It’s obviously meant to taunt Hangman, but he doesn’t react much beyond a tiny upward twitch of his mouth.

You’re left wondering if these are normal conversations people have with their friends. Are you just a prude? You feel like you’re going insane.

And then Bob, who has been quietly snacking on peanuts for most of the night, pipes up, “I think it just depends on your partner. You gotta listen to them.”

Hangman stares at him like he’s just revealed he likes to take his clothes off and perform an Irish jig on top of an aircraft every Sunday. “Am I just supposed to believe you’ve had sex with multiple partners?”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap Hangman’s chest. Admittedly, both the alcohol and the way your head is still reeling have the move lacking any real vigor, but it still leaves you a little stunned at yourself.

“Don’t be mean,” you say. His chest feels very firm beneath your palm, muscles hard and heartbeat steady. Then you realize you’re still touching him and withdraw your hand as if you’ve burned yourself.

Hangman is grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean.”

That almost makes you choke on your Mojito. 

“Right,” Coyote says. His teeth gleam white when he smirks at you. “So, how do you like it?”

You freeze. Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits.

“Oh, god, boys. Just leave her alone,” Phoenix sighs. She gets up to sling an arm over your shoulder. It’s a reassuring presence by your side, one that makes you feel a little less like you’re about to levitate off the face of the earth. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Hangman is staring right at you. He’s still smiling, but something in his eyes has shifted.

You can’t look away from him. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“I… I don’t…” you falter.

Across the distance between you, Hangman raises an eyebrow. “What are you, like a virgin?”

It hits you square in the chest.

You know you need to laugh it off, know you need to counter with another quip, another insult, another jab, but your mind is blank. Time seems to freeze for a moment. You can’t breathe.

Your eyes burn, and you realize with a sudden, horrible lurch that you’re going to cry, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Several emotions pass over Hangman’s face in quick succession. The glint is gone from his eyes now, replaced by something like genuine guilt. That’s how you know he was just joking around, but it doesn’t soften the blow at all.

Anger, humiliation, and, worst of all, the remnants of your earlier desire pump through your veins. You feel weak and tired and helpless. A snowglobe shattered on the floor. All of it hits you at once.

You’re painfully aware of all the eyes on you. You’re painfully aware you haven’t said a single thing in way too long.

Hangman says your name, his tone caught somewhere between concern and apology.

I can’t, you think. I just… can’t.

So you turn on your heel and all but sprint for the open doors.

Out back, the air has cooled down to a more bearable temperature, but it does nothing to calm you. Your skin feels several sizes too small, the world is tilting a little bit to the left, as if everything’s written in cursive. In your ears, your blood rushes like a roar.

You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life.

A few tiki torches light a path from the Hard Deck’s back entrance towards the sand of the beach. You follow almost blindly, stumbling down the two steps. The ocean stretches endless and dark blue in front of you. Your sandals fill with sand that scrapes against the soles of your feet.

You walk a few steps until you reach a weathered tool shed with the blue paint eroded by years of wind and salt spray. Only when you’ve found shelter behind it, when you know you’re hidden from view, do you allow yourself to cry.

They’re bitter tears. You’re embarrassed about your display earlier, about letting Hangman get to you, embarrassed because everybody saw. Embarrassed that you didn’t deny it when it isn’t even really true, not technically. Embarrassed that you’re twenty-three and practically a virgin, embarrassed that it matters to you. It shouldn’t matter.

Virginity is a social construct, you remind yourself, and then you just cry harder.

Most of all, you’re embarrassed because you want Hangman. 

It’s the first time you admit it, even to yourself, and the truth of it settles heavy in your stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone as much as you want him, and you don’t even like the man. 

It’s ridiculous, humiliating, mortifying, and suddenly you wish you had stayed home tonight, had never come here in the first place.

And then he says your name.

The moonlight paints his hair a blueish shade of silver. He looks impossibly handsome, standing just a step or two away from you with his hands in his pockets, backlit by the flickering of the torches.

Immediately you straighten up and rub your cheeks to get rid of the tears. Your fingers come away stained black with the remnants of your mascara.

For a moment, you and Hangman just stare at each other. The distance between you gapes like an open wound, like a canyon, like an ocean.

Finally, he asks, “You okay?”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

He looks torn. His jaw moves as he grinds his teeth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t have to ask him to clarify. You know exactly what he means.

“I don’t know you,” you say quietly.

He makes a strange, strangled sound at the back of his throat, then buries his face in his hands for a second. When he re-emerges, he looks honestly distressed.

“If I had known,” he says softly, “I would have stopped being so aggressive.”

You don’t know how to tell him that that’s the opposite of what you want. You don’t know how to tell him that you don’t know what you want.

You don’t know how to tell him that you know exactly what you want.

Everything’s a mess.

Shrugging, you say, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” he repeats, disbelief in his voice. “Of course it matters. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

That makes you frown.

“I didn’t say you make me uncomfortable.”

Aggravated, sure. Annoyed, wound-up, frustrated. All of that. But uncomfortable? Never.

That gives him pause, but only for a moment. He goes on, “I shouldn’t have… it was too much. I’m sorry.”

You can’t explain any of this, but you want to. You wish you could just make him understand, but you can’t even make sense of yourself.

Your insides are all tangled.

“It’s not like… it’s not like I’ve never done anything,” you rush to explain. “I did sleep with someone when I was sixteen, but I just… and then there was always so much other stuff that I didn’t have time to date, and then other stuff happened, and I didn’t even want to date, so I just….”

At the look he gives you, you trail off.

“So you’re not a virgin, then?”

“Not… technically,” you confirm, then cringe at how ridiculous it all sounds.

He just stares at you.

“It… what does it even matter?” Suddenly, you’re angry. “Even if I was a virgin, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it. And it’s none of your business. Why do you even care?”

One of Hangman’s eyebrows raises. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin,” he says, voice perfectly calm. “I care that you’re comfortable.”

That staggers you. “I… why?”

He shoves his hands back into his pockets. “Because I happen to like you.”

Now you’re the one staring. 

That can’t be right. Hangman’s not supposed to like you, not when you’ve just established that you can’t stand him. Not when you’ve spent every night since you’ve met him listing all the reasons why you need to stay as far away from him as possible.

When you don’t answer, he starts talking again. “Why didn’t you just say you’re not a virgin in there?” he asks, jerking his head back in the general direction of the Hard Deck.

You shrug and look away. “I’m not… experienced.”

He waits for you to continue.

“It was just once, with my first boyfriend, and it wasn’t… I didn’t… well, after it was over, I never wanted to do it again.”

Hangman’s expression is unreadable. The breeze picks up, and you shiver, crossing your arms over your abdomen. 

“I’m not…” You swallow. “I’m not confident. I can’t talk about it the way you guys do. So easily.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard. “I’ll stop, then. This was too much. I’m sorry.”

But there’s something there, in the words. A challenge. He’s giving you a way out at the same time as he’s giving you an in.

The way he’s looking at you seems to say, Ball’s in your court now, sweetheart.

In your life, you’ve always taken the familiar path. You thought things through thoroughly, made decisions with your head and not your heart. You liked to be safe, too scared to step out of your comfort zone. And so the house with the blue door stayed a dream, one that eventually moved so far out of reach it lost any appeal it ever had.

But then you think of your life stuffed into a car. Arriving in an unfamiliar city and deciding to stay. Diving headfirst into the unknown.

If you have done it once, you tell yourself, there’s no reason you can’t do it again.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say, voice quiet, hands shaking. “I like it.”

It might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Being honest. Here in this moment, with him, bathed in moonlight that dips the worlds in shades of mercury.

It’s almost impossible to get the words out, and then they dangle awkwardly in the air between you. You feel exposed, stripped, flayed open in front of this man who is practically a stranger to you.

Over the beat of your heart hammering away in your chest, you can barely even hear the roar of the ocean.

And then Hangman steps closer to you, bridging that distance. His features are dipped in half-shadows, but you see his eyes flickering down to your lips.

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“When I saw you for the first time,” he says, and his voice is husky, low, “in that little dress… I wanted to bend you over the bar and fuck you right there. With everyone watching.”

It knocks the air out of you. You let out a choked sound that might be the beginning of a gasp. A jolt goes through the core of you.

He comes even closer, and, instinctively, you stumble backward. He crowds you against the wall of the shed. The wood is rough and cold where it presses against your back.

The stupid nametag is right in front of you then, and it occurs to you suddenly that you don’t even know his first name.

“Look at me,” he says.

In spite of yourself, you listen immediately. There’s something in his voice, not just demanding but commandeering. You don’t think you could disobey him even if you wanted to.

And Hangman’s so close now. Close enough that you can see the specks of gold swimming in his eyes, close enough that you could probably see yourself reflected in them if it wasn’t so dark.

One of his hands is braced against the wood by your head, palm down, and the other goes to cup your cheek. Fingertips trace across the jut of your cheekbone, down, down, down over the planes of your face, avoiding your mouth to ghost toward your chin and then the line of your throat.

You don’t dare breathe.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly.

It’s such a stark contrast to his earlier words, so crude, that it leaves you light-headed.

You can smell him; over the lingering ashes of burnt-down bonfires, over the salt of the ocean, there’s the scent of his aftershave. Cinnamon and spice. You think you could get drunk on that smell.

“Hangman…” you whisper because you can’t think of something else to say for the life of you.

He shakes his head, tuts gently. “My name’s Jake.”

“Jake,” you repeat. It’s like you’re in a daze, dumb with the intensity of it all. If this night is giving you anything, it’s a severe case of whiplash.

He hums in response, eyelids going heavy. Lets his fingers trail from your throat, where your pulse is beating like a sledgehammer, down your chest, between your breasts, over the flimsy fabric of your dress. He pauses on your stomach, lets his fingers spread out like a starfish, and just watches for a moment as his hand moves with each breath you take.

When he speaks, his voice sounds almost pensive. “Has anybody ever made you come?”

The sound you make is much too close to a whimper for your own comfort. Involuntarily, your thighs clench together, and you realize faintly just how wet you really are, the skin just below the lines of your panties sticking together.

You don’t need to look at Hangman to know that he’s noticed your reaction.

“It… no,” you admit hesitantly. You’re going to spontaneously combust, you just know it. “Just… myself.”

He grins at that, but it’s not a mean expression. “So you touch yourself?”

It’s so hard to swallow. Even harder to talk, to find words, even to form a coherent thought.

Jake leans closer still, so close his breath traces across your face. “Answer me.”

“Sometimes.” Your voice has gone so quiet you’re sure he wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t standing so close to you. Like he wants to climb into your skin.

You’re becoming painfully aware of all the points where he isn’t touching you. A minuscule but safe distance between your hips, your faces, your chests. That arm curving around you, braced against the wall. No point of contact except for the large hand on your abdomen.

You shudder.

“What do you think about? When you touch yourself, what do you think about?”

The muscles in his arm flex, straining against the fabric of his uniform, veins protruding blue through the skin, and it shouldn’t be this hot, but it is. You’re on fire and he isn’t even touching you, not really, but you’ve never been so turned on in your life, wound so tightly, a kite dancing higher and higher into the sky.

You shake your head quickly, unsure if it’s supposed to be an answer or just a way to get rid of the fog that’s descended on you.

Jake’s hand wanders a little lower, almost imperceptibly, just about half an inch, but you think your heart almost fails you.

“I…” you swallow again. Your mouth is dry, and your palms are sweating. Your core pulses with the sort of desire that’s impossible to ignore. “I don’t know. I don’t…”

God, if only you could be casual about this sort of thing. You wish you could say something sexy, something teasing, something that would make Jake feel even a fraction of what he’s making you feel. But you’re just you. Inexperienced, unsure even of what you want.

You choke up, and, to your mortification, tears pool in your eyes again.

“Shh,” Jake immediately shushes you, and his face is almost tender. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll give you something to think about.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, blinking up at him.

And then it’s back, that signature Hangman smirk, the same one you’ve wanted to slap off his face so many times, only it’s making you weak in the knees now, makes your lips part, makes you wish he would just touch you already.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight.”

It’s almost shameful how quickly you try to protest, really. If it hadn’t been for those five and a half Mojitos, you would have stuck your head into the sand right here.

Hangman laughs at you, the sound just a little mean. “You’re much too drunk, sweetheart.”

You suppose it doesn’t make much sense to argue. Now that you think about it, you really are drunk. The fuzzy, warm sort of drunk. Just on the right side of intoxicated, where everything feels packed in cotton, and nothing feels impossible.

Even that someone like Hangman might want to dirty talk to you behind the Hard Deck’s tool shed.

“Can you do something for me?” Jake asks.

You can just bite down on the anything that threatens to spill from your mouth the moment he’s uttered the question, and, god, what’s wrong with you? This is getting out of hand.

Dumbfounded, you nod silently.

He leans impossibly closer, his nose trailing along your jawline, and whispers, “The next time you touch yourself… When you’re alone, I want you to lie down on your bed. I want you to spread your legs, and I want you to touch your pretty little pussy for me.”

You clench your eyes shut, breath stuck somewhere in your throat, as Jake’s hand lifts from your stomach. He takes a fistful of your skirt and pulls it up, using his other hand to hold it away from your body. The cool breeze caresses your legs, but that’s not why you shiver.

His fingers slide along the inside of your thigh, from kneecap up to the very tops of them. You can’t breathe, can’t blink, can’t do anything but stand there and hope you won’t dissolve into a puddle.

“And when you fuck yourself,” he whispers, “I want you to think of me.” 

And then he touches his fingers to your core, over the lace of your panties.

If you weren’t so far gone, you think you’d never forgive yourself for your reaction. 

You all but squeak, back arching off the wall, pushing yourself into his palm, mouth dropping open as pure heat spreads through you, like an ache, like a tightening at your very center.

“Jesus,” Jake says, and his voice sounds breathless. “You’ve soaked these through, sweetheart.”

It’s the first indication that he’s affected by this, too, that you’re not the only one impacted, and somehow that’s enough to make you want him even more.

You wonder what it would be like to get him off. What he would look like, sound like. Taste like.

Your exhale is a tiny, shuddering thing. 

“Can you do that for me?” he wants to know. “Touch yourself for me like I asked?”

“I…” You think you would have agreed if he had asked you to lasso him down the moon.

Anything you say, Hangman. Anything you want. Just keep touching me. Please.

“Yes,” you agree. “Yeah, I… okay.”

“Good girl,” he says. His lips press to the side of your throat just once, right where your pulse is pumping at a rapid pace.

And then he steps away, fingers gone from your panties, mouth gone from your neck.

The loss of him leaves you reeling, dizzy, plastered to the wall like roadkill.

Even Hangman looks a little disheveled, but it's minimal comfort.

Again, you feel on the verge of tears.

Hangman clears his throat and asks, “Do you have a ride home?”

It takes an uncomfortable amount of time for the question to even register. You just stare at him at first, blinking owlishly. 

You barely even remember your own name. How are you supposed to answer this?

“I… Uber,” you say.

It’s not even a complete sentence, no verb at all, but it seems enough for Hangman. 

He nods once. Then he takes a moment just to watch you.

Finally, he says, “I changed my mind about the dress.” 

He takes a step back to admire you head to toe. As he looks at you, the torches reflect in his eyes until it looks like they’re gleaming. You’ve never felt so exposed in your life, and it makes you squirm.

You’re still so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been, and you’d do anything for him to touch you. Slide his fingers into you and fuck you right here, behind Penny’s bar, out on the beach where anyone might see. Think you might just die if he doesn’t.

Jake reaches once more for the skirt of your dress, but this time he doesn’t pull it up. Instead, he just lets his fingers dance through the folds once, the touch featherlight. Just a whisper of his digits across your thigh. You barely feel it.

You’re going to shake apart right here and now.

“I think this is my favorite after all,” he says, grins that Hangman grin, and then he’s gone.

You’re left leaning against the shed, breathless, panting, head and heart a mess. Alone, as you stare out at the white foam cresting on the waves, wondering what the fuck just happened.

read part ii

get added to the bad habits tag list !

[lyrakanefanatic]

tig couple hcs part 1: max and xander

OKAY FOR SOME REASON I RANDOMLY WANTED TO MAKE A TIG COUPLES SERIES SO HERES MY FAVS FIRST!!!

———————————————————

• they literally complete each other. xander, although he doesn’t show it, has always been a bit insecure when it comes to dating and didnt know if there was anyone right for him, until he met max 💗

• max told her parents about them dating a few months after they started, but they met like 6-7 months later. xander took it extremely seriously surprisingly, and showed up to her parents house with a suit and a bouquet of tulips (maxs favourite) (oh, and he got a smaller bundle of yellow roses for maxs mom because they represent friendship and/or family 🤭)

• xander loves isaac (max’s brother) and they get along really well

• karaoke nights are ICONIC with these two and they sing the best duets. you bet they’re eating up shallow and every hamilton song to have ever existed

• whenever they have movie nights they make the famous candy salads, and do that tiktok trend thing where they pretend that the candy salad was actually supposed to be a salad to make themselves seem healthy. here’s an example if you don’t know what i mean:

• “xander, are you ready to try this super healthy salad?”

• “you bet i am! i can’t wait to dig in— OH MY GOD!!! ITS ALL CANDY!!”

• “this is disgusting!! but… we can’t waste it.”

• “you’re right max. there are starving children! let’s try this”

• *while they’re eating* “this is NOT the healthy all greens salad we wanted xan 😪”

• “yeah, im SO disappointed.” (while they’re throwing handfuls of nerds gummy clusters onto their mouths)

• although avery and libby were the first people max told about her and xander dating, nash was the first person xander told about him and max dating.

• jk. nash found out because he walked in on him and max kissing and then xander told everyone in fear that nash would first. 💀

• they have SO. MANY. inside jokes it’s not even funny. sometimes at hawthorne family dinners, max will pick up a napkin or something and say some weird dumb statement to xander and they’ll both burst out laughing and get shot dirty looks by the laughlins and every older hawthorne that lives at hawthorne house

• max actually didn’t really like xander at first (although she found him attractive) because she was worried for avery, and when she had first got to the hawthorne house, she used to wander the halls just looking around, like the curious cat she is. one day, xander sees her wandering and pops up in front of her, and max, who was taken by surprise, pulls her fist back and punched him right in the throat. he was wheezing on the ground for 5 minutes straight. (she apologized so many times)

• at their wedding, xander mentioned this ⬆️⬆️ story in his vows with a cheesy line, like: “maxine liu, when I first met you, you took my breath away. literally. you punched me in the throat.” and made everybody there laugh (at the after party, nash made him explain the whole story)

• max snores and is a terrible sleeper, but thankfully xander falls asleep really quickly, so by the time she’s got her book away and is creating so much noise that it sounds like an elephant orchestra has taken residence in her mouth, xander’s already asleep

• they wear custom made matching hoodies. xanders says “when unsure, ask for max’s opinion” and max’s hoodie just says “max”.

• ⬆️ doesn’t really work the best when they’re not together LOL

• xander has woken up to max’s giggles at 3 am when she’s reading and the enemies become loversss 🤭🤭

• they eat enough food combined at thanksgiving dinner to make all of texas starve

• on the rare occasions that xander visits maxs house, he always takes seconds and thirds at dinner because he just loves her moms cooking so much

• when xander heard her swear for the first time, he was so taken aback that he just stared at her like this for 2 minutes straight:

——————————————————————————

OKAY THATS ALL!!!

LEMME KNOW WHAT COUPLE I SHOULD DO NEXT BECAUSE I LOVED MAKING HCS FOR THESE TWO 💗💗💗

[cambrioleur]

Random observations on this season (updating)

(SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY)

Episode 1

I don't think we've ever seen Assane do a genuine fourth-wall break before

OK so Claire has a last name now

Assane really expected that he could just show up and Claire would just fall at his feet

I'm surprised Benjamin is just allowed to continue working at his shop

This feels better-edited than Parts 1 & 2

Name a more iconic duo than Belkacem and failing constantly (she really doesn't listen, does she)

Episode 2

Philippe Courbet sighting

NEVER invite Guédira to a funeral lmaooo

Hang on I'm just now realizing that Juliette is at this funeral, too (she's standing in the second row behind Benjamin and Claire and honestly doesn't seem too upset about Assane's "death")

I like how in the flashback Babakar tells Assane that he reminds him of his mother and then it turns out she was a criminal

This seems to be around the time of Raoul's birthday again; he really can't catch a break on that

Episode 3

New shipping war just dropped: Guédira/Belkacem vs Guédira/Fleur

That bit where Claire was outright begging Benjamin to tell her Assane was alive and he couldn't...that was sad

But then it was followed by Benjamin doing the "uhh my FRIEND just died" act with Belkacem which was funny

This gang of thugs is trying a little too hard tbh

Assane's disguise in this episode is fucking terrible lol

The basketball coach disguise, on the other hand, is the only time I've genuinely thought he wasn't recognizable

Episode 4

Ironically that coach persona is probably the best parenting Assane has ever done

Claire? Doing things that are vaguely cool?? That feels illegal. Also, she looked so proud of herself for swiping that book, lol

Betraying Benjamin was certainly...a choice on Assane's part ("everyone disliked that")

This episode is going to devastate the show's Tumblr fandom

Episode 5

Assane trolling the shit out of Guédira will never not be funny

These 1998 flashbacks are pretty dark actually

Honestly the way Claire got that reveal out of Benjamin was very well-played on her part

Guédira out here looking like present-day Ringo Starr with that disguise

Aww look at Assane playing the matchmaker for Guédira and Belkacem, heh heh

This is easily one of the funniest episodes

Except Benjamin is straight up not having a good time -- it looks like he got beaten up in prison

Episode 6

Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not totally sure Benjamin knows that Assane betrayed him. It's possible he just thinks that he fucked up with the bracelet and then missed a cue in the maze

"Pasta with ketchup" jesus fucking christ Claire that sounds horrendous (although I'm guessing the only reason they did that was because of the ketchup-bottle reveal)

Assane really has Claire's number because he's now seduced her twice under two different identities

IDK whether or not Raoul has figured out that the coach is his dad but it's funny that he still seemed to be shipping it either way

It's nice that we get to see Claire's more playful side in this season, like her messing with Assane by acting really flirty with "Alex" after she realizes they're the same person

INCREDIBLE casting for the younger and older versions of Keller tbh; they easily look like they could be the same person

Episode 7

What a nice family reunion...it would be a shame if something happened to it...

The flashbacks are significantly darker than the present timeline this time around

Guédira finally got to arrest Assane, good for him!

The scene at the train station with the letter from Assane to Claire sort of reminds me of the ending to A Tale of Two Cities, which I had to read for AP prep a while back

Oh look, Hubert Pellegrini is back

So they're CLEARLY setting up another season with this ending

The choice of people to show on the montage there was interesting, lol

I could see a Juliette antagonist arc happening tbh

Maybe Assane's mom isn't all she seems either

And what about Benjamin? If he turns against Assane the viewers are going to lose their minds

[nottapossum]

Does that age regression journal Charlie made for everyone actually exist? Because that sounds really helpful honestly. If it’s something you made up for the fix, would you consider posting how to make one irl?

It sadly does not exist. I made it up for a sander sides fic years ago...then never posted it 😅

So I recycled it for this fic because I loved the idea so much. (I still may post that fic someday but it'll be a bit.)

Anyway.

I will absolutely show you how to make one!

To demonstrate, I will use 💜's Jurnal because she's the only one who has a regression journal, lol. She was very nice in letting me use it.

(💜: It's got Patton's emblem on it 🥰)

(For context, we have DID/Osdd and 💜 is one of our headmates that regresses).

(I hope to make more for our other littles, but I just haven't gotten around to it yet.)

(📖: This notebook was actually a gift because it came in a set of baby Yoda notebooks, and our mom didn't want this one, 💜 loved it because she loves Patton on sander sides. And if you don't know what sander sides is, you should 100% binge it. It's on YouTube. Was made by the "story time" vine guy.)

(Anyway we used sticker paper and just printed it out for the notebook. I think it looks pretty cool.)

📝Step 1 is to find a nice notebook and decorate it in a way that makes you happy! (If you decide to use a notebook)

Now, I did this with a pen and some colored pencils ✏️ it's not fancy and it doesn't, need to be either.

If you'd rather type this all up on a computer and put it in a binder, that works too.

However you want to do this is perfect! You can use crayons, pencils, just keep it digitally. Whatever makes you the happiest ✨️

Intro page:

Age range: (💜 wrote 2-5)

Caregiver: (Name of caregiver) (if you don't have one, just don't add this question or you can write "myself" independence!)

Favorites 💕

Favorite color: (💜Wrote Purple)

Favorite show/movie: (💜Sander sides)

Favorite animal: (💜Wrote later, Butterflies and Cats)

Comfort 🧸

Comfort show/Movie: (💜Wrote Sander sides and bluey)

📝Show that helps calm you down or just provides some comfort. This can be different than your favorites or the same.

Comfort book:

📝What book makes you feel comfort? You can also write a fanfic if you want, 💜 did once I added this question to her journal. She may actually need a whole page of her comfort fics. Most are sander sides, and some are Loki, Hamilton, Brooklyn 99, exc. (Mostly SS fics by @childishfluff aka @logical-little-lies here on Tumblr. And @dannyisdone and freepoetrynightmare @agerestorybits onA03, they're great! Check them out! They made us want to start writing fics of our own)

Comfort food/drink (💜Milk, Angel milk)

Comfort idem: (💜Paci, Kitty stuffie, Jasper (a racoon stuffie) )

Add any other questions you want!

📝You can add any other info that might be important for a caregiver to remember or other stuff you want to share just for fun.

Okay now what you actually asked for:

The page in the fic...

Daily checkup 🌻

-Name/Date: (We don't often date things, but it would definitely be important for some)

-I am _ years old today (💜Wrote 5)

📝Just write your little age or ??? If you don't know.

-Today I: (Action, explain your day) (💜Wrote: played with kitties)

📝Explain your day, and probably give yourself more space than I put. Oops.

-I want my caregiver to know: (💜Wrote: I ❤️ U)

📝Great way to tell your cg something that is hard to say outloud. Or just something for fun. If you have no caregiver, feel free to replace this with: "I am feeling: ___ today because:"

You can add any negative emotions to process them.

- I feel _ about today (Good, Bad, Normal) because (give an explanation)

(💜Wrote: Good, because I got to be small)

📝looking at the day and processing any negative feelings or looking back at a happy day, you can smile about later!

-Tomorrow/Next time I want to: (What you hope to do next time you regress) (💜Wrote: Play with dolls)

📝Note for next time if there was something you didn't get to do that you wanted.

-Something bad about the day: (💜Wrote: Feel icky)

-Something good about the day: (💜Wrote: Got to small)

📝Looking at the positives and negatives of the day. It's okay if you can't find something.

If you can't think of something positive, you can write: "I can look forward to better days."

Then, at the bottom, I put a box that asks if the little finished answering the questions.

You can put any sticker or add a check mark ✅️ We just happen to find a yes sticker.

And here is a page of fun recipes for us to remember. 💜 loves to try new kinds of milk.

(Ignore the bad spelling lol)

Some of these I found here and some are on reddit. Just look up "Age regression milk recipes" and they should show up.

📖: There are a lot of really great journal prompts here on Tumblr that you can use as well. I didn't get any of these from tumblr, but I plan on expanding the journal evenentually and may use some I find on here.

Let me know if you guys would be interested in me posting any expansions we make for the journal. I plan on doing it for the fic, so I may post about it anyways.

If you guys decide to use this and post about it on your own blog, plz tag me! I'd love to see it!

Even if it's just a digital one or just a tumblr post. I'd love to see.

@todayimfour @ask-dusty-boy @trophyxtissues2 @abby5577 @im-not-paying-my-taxes @attagirljessy @thatsthat24 @legeufygeuber100 @stormy-is-hyperfixated

[blissfullyecho]

things that i’ve learned during my self-improvement journey that may or may not be controversial (and cause angry anon messages lol)

i talked more in depth in my new book that’s coming out about the things i’ve learned that actually helped me improve but here is a quick list of an updated “things that i’ve learned” since i made a list like this earlier this year.

1. it’s better to follow beauty standards than to do your own thing. society’s beauty standards ONLY become society’s beauty standards when everyone collectively shows more grace and interest in a specific type of person. beauty standards don’t just happen because an article wrote down what women should look like and now we follow it. they happen because there is a certain type of look + certain types of features that is adored by a MASS of people. your life will be a lot easier if you look good and follow society’s standards of beautiful. stop with the “it’s on the inside that counts” because that only works if you caught everyone by appearance first. no one gives unattractive people the time of day to even prove themselves to be awesome and beautiful on the inside. be for real.

2. morning routines give a false sense of productivity. it’s like people feel like they have to do 100 things in the morning before they tackle on their day. you’re gonna be tired before even starting work because your morning routine took 4 hours. wake up, do the basics, workout if you like to workout in the morning, and then get to work. writing gratitude lists and levitating in your living room for a couple hours is not going to make or break the rest of your day, i promise.

3. evening routines keep your mind and body active because you’re not allowing your body to just chill and your mind to go with the flow. keeping it simple before bed allows you a better night’s rest. brush teeth, skincare, and read a book. be zen before bed and stop trying to check off to do lists for an evening routine.

4. i’m not accepting myself. i’m not going to accept myself if i don’t like how i look. i’m not going to accept myself if i just got cheated on. i’m not going to accept myself if I’m not making the grades i want to make. take your self-acceptance advice and shove it. if i don’t like something about myself, you best believe i’m changing it. i don’t need to accept myself. i’ll accept myself when i’m happy with where i am. that’s like you being in an unhealthy relationship with someone and i tell you “accept where the relationship is”. no, goodbye i’m leaving this person and you can have him and accept where that relationship goes. it’s so stupid.

5. your advice to me should not be “oh just be confident”. confidence doesn’t come all of a sudden. confidence comes when you show up for yourself day in and day out and make things happen. confidence comes when you accomplish things. confidence comes when you put in effort and work and start seeing the benefits come into fruition. if you tell me to be confident, i will pinch you.

6. i’ve said it so many times this week, but i’m not manifesting. if i want something, i’m going to work at having it in my life immediately. i’m going to create a plan of action and take calculated steps to get what i want. if you think i’m going to write “i have $1,000,000 in my bank account” 55 times for 5 days, you have got me mistaken. i guarantee you i would be up day and night reading about business, finances, marketing, customer service, anything and everything about entrepreneurship and business and start a business that’s going to generate enough income where i have $1M in my account. no, i’m not going to have more faith in my crystals than in my own abilities of working hard. stop being scared to work.

7. this is one i recently had to learn: most people get into a relationship because they are ready to settle down. before you start letting your loneliness get the best of you, ask yourself “am i ready to settle down and potentially become a wife/husband and mom/dad in the next 1-3 years or do i just want affection/attention/the feeling of being wanted/loved/adored?” only get into a relationship when you’re ready for the next step, NOT when you are in your feelings.

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

SJM ask game

I saw this ask game started by @milswrites and I absolutely love it!

1) What’s your favourite SJM book?

It is a tie between ACOMAF, QOS, and CC1. Those are my top 3 and they rotate on a daily basis on which is my favorite.

2) Which is your favourite series (tog, acotar or cc)

TOG is def my favorite of the three. The story is so beautifully bookended, each book can stand by itself, the characters are amazing and they go through so much growth. I love ACOTAR because I love the relationships that are built there and the world building is so interesting. I also read ACOTAR at a very dark point in my life and reading about Feyre digging herself out of the darkness helped me do the same. I love Ruhn Dannan. Daynight is life. Enough said.

3) Who is your favourite character? (And why?)

I have to have a favorite character from each series. For ACOTAR, gwyn has whittled her way into my heart as my favorite character. Her bravery, her selflessness, her determination. We see her interact with characters who are previously shown to be extremely unaproachable and she treats them like normal people. She is healing and is in the process of building a life that is worth living. I cannot wait to read more of her journey in the next book. For TOG, my favorite characters are Aelin, Manon, and Lysandra. Aelin is forced to be so strong from such a young age, and the shit that she is put through just makes my heart ache. KOA broke my heart so many times because she felt so broken and I feel like we never got a true conclusion to it. Manon is such a prime example of Nature vs Nurture. She was Nurtured to be a heartless killer, but once she started seeing the world for what it was and seeing the injustices her people were committing, she and the 13 stood up for what was right and went up against their sister Ironteeth in battle in order to fight for a better world. Lysandra has been a favorite of mine since the first time I read her on the page. She was taken advantage of and was forced into a role outside of her command. The way she takes her own life in her hands, she puts the needs of others before her own, and was a friend to Aelin when she truly needed one will solidify her as one of my favorites. It is no surprise that Lydia is my favorite CC character. I loved her in CC2, but she CARRIED CC3. She is like the perfect mix of Rhys and Aelin and her ancestors would be proud of her and what she has done.

4) Do you have a favourite quote from one of the books?

I have a million favorite quotes. One of the ones I wouldn't mind getting a tattoo of is "Don't let the Hard days win" it is simple but so impactful and some days I need the reminder. I cannot stop crying when I read Lehabah's last conversation with Bryce. Also, I definately Bawl everytime Aelin hallucinates about her parents and her mom says, "Why do you cry, Fireheart?"

5) Favourite ship?

In no particular order: Gwynriel, Feysand, DayNight, Rowaelin, Lysaedion, Nestaq.

6) E/riel or Gwynriel? Or neither?

I think my username speaks for itself

7) Who’s the most underrated SJM character?

NESRYN MF EMPRESSES FALIQ. I love her. I know she isn't on my list of favorites but she is 100% a favorite. Her and Sartaq are just *Chef's Kiss*

8) Which character do you wish to learn more about?

Oooooh. Azriel, Gwyn, Jessiba, Lydia, VAUGHN, Lucien.

9) Are there any characters you don’t like?

Besides the bad guys? I don't care for Ithan but its not that I don't like him. He just reads like a washed up frat boy but I was impressed with his growth in CC3. It's not like I HATE him, he just isn't a favorite of mine.

10) Favourite bat boy?

It should come as ZERO surprise that Azriel is my favorite bat boy. However, if I had to choose ANY of the SJM Males to be my mate, it would be Dorian :) I would die fighting Manon for him but worth it lol

11) Favourite court?/ Which one would you most like to live in?

I most definately fit into the Night Court. Anyone who knows me knows I am a night owl and I would sleep all day and be awake at night if I could. If Eris was high lord, my second choice would be Autumn.

12) Favourite SJM villain?

I think we can all agree that Maeve is the most flushed out villian that SJM has written to date. I love to hate her.

13) If you could change one thing in any of the books what would it be?

I would get rid of all the "crumbs" for E/riel and I would make Mor more open about her sexuality with the IC from the beginning. I am fixing both in FM2M.

14) Favourite SJM theory?

Gwynriel are mates. There is way too much canonical evidence to prove otherwise.

15) Favourite Archeron sister?

Feyre.

16) A character you feel is over-hated/ underrated

Aedion. Leave my boy alone. Was he a dumbass? Yes. HOWEVER, think about his trauma and the BS Lysandra and Aelin pulled on him. He has had the weight of his kingdom on his shoulders for 10 years. He has been playing the game longer than he can remember, was taken advantage of by older men in the army as he worked his way up the ranks. His father's identity needed to be kept a secret to the detriment of his mother and he resents Gavriel for it. They were going to turn him into the same absentee father that he hated, and they threw his trauma in his face. He would have just been a breeding stud and would never be able to recognize his own children. It was a stab right to his heart and he was betrayed by the two people who meant the most to him in the world. Give the boy some grace.

17) Aelin, Bryce, or Feyre?

I think Aelin is the most fleshed out and goes through the most character growth. However, Bryce and Feyre have my heart. I will not choose.

18) If you wrote an acotar book what would you call it?

A Court of Scars and Shadows. Thanks @thebelladonnamoon for coming up with the perfect ACOTAR 6 title.

20) Who is your favourite acotar blogger?

Here on Tumblr, I love @acourtofthought @gwynrieldefenseatty but there are so many that I love :) And, as always, @yazthebookish

21)What fics would you recommend to people who love the series?

OH GOD. Off the top of my head for ACOTAR: ACoFD by @the-lonelybarricade (or ANYTHING by her and @separatist-apologist) ACOSAS by @thebelladonnamoon, Call Me Home by @propagandaprincess, There You Are by @sweethvilliandarlinggod

You can see my bookmarked favorite fics here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_of_the_Gwynriel_Ship

TOG Favorite fics: High Infidelity by @heirofflowers, Bad Intentions by @starseternalnighttriumphant, Illicit Affairs is my ALL TIME FAVORITE by @rowanaelinn, remanents by @the_dormouse, and The Inclining of Stars by @Slytherindemigod18

CC Favorites: I havent read too many, but you can always count on Verzavar Haz by @hlizr50 to break down your soul.

Questions for writers

22) Easiest character to write for?

Probably Feyre or Gwyn. I just feel like I can get in their heads the easiest.

23) Hardest character to write for?

Rhys (so far). It is why he hasn't had a POV yet in FM2M but there will be one in a couple chapters.

24) What’s a character you’d like to write for but haven’t yet? Ooh. Some of the TOG characters. I haven't ventured outside of ACOTAR yet but one day maybe.

25) What’s a court you’d like to write about more?

Autumn wink wink. And Hybern (I know it isn't a court but still).

26) What’s a character you won’t write for and why?

I don't know if there is a character I won't write for. I think it just depends. Probably Elorcan as a couple because as much as I like them, I couldn't really write them.

27) If you could only write for one character ever again, who would you pick?

Gwyn. Easy.

28) Whats your favourite trope to write about when it comes to Azriel?

Oh gods where to start. Friends to lovers, priestess/sinner, trainer/trainee, Acceptance and Longing, Soulmates, Forced Proximity. I could go on.

29) What do you think is the best/favourite acotar fic you’ve written?

I mean definitely FM2M, but I loved writing Up Against the Wall and coming up with the idea for The Great Escape.

30) Who are your favourite friendships to write about?

Right now, the valkyrie and Mor and Feyre, Cassian and Feyre, and Lucien and Feyre.

31) For first time readers to your blog, which three fics would you recommend they read?

Obviously FM2M, you can read some of my other one shots or short fics or check out some of my favorite fics above!

This was super fun and a way to distract me from such a boring work day haha

[chikkou]

ok i was waiting until my laptop got here to finally tell all the bullshit thats happened in the last like. 5 months lol. cause its a lot to type

im gonna put it all under the cut so no one has to read if they dont want. its a LONG fucking story.

tl;dr:

ok so for basic background, for the last two years or so, i was living with a roommate in connecticut. the roommate was my (now former) best friend since middle school. in july of this year his behavior totally shifted, and he started picking fights with me out of nowhere, told our high school friends a bunch of straight up lies abt me to make me look like a horrible roommate & person, and just generally became a two-faced dickhead. in the end, it turned out to all be excuses to justify his decision to move out (unofficially, name was still on the lease) so that he could live with his boyfriends and not pay any bills. at the time i was really devastated by this bc i felt totally betrayed by this person i had been close to since i was 12/13, but frankly after everything else that happened i barely fucking think about it now LMAO. this is set dressing more than anything else

so anyway, i had been living alone since about august, that was the last time i saw him in person. i wasnt handling the situation well because i had spoken to my high school friend and found out the extent to which hed tried to paint me as a slovenly, horrible roommate, to the point of telling actual lies about really dumb stuff (which didnt work btw - my friends, god bless them, were more concerned about my mental health than anything and thought i was going down a depression spiral, which my former friend told them he was helping me through. they believed me right away once we finally did talk). all that is to say, i was going kind of crazy lol, and i decided to go back home in october just for a short while, to recharge my batteries and all.

i was gone for a couple of weeks, not very long. i felt MUCH better after being with my family & friends in person, as i felt pretty isolated from everyone (my hometown is in new york, i was only 2 hours away by train but scheduling times to visit was sort of a hassle, so i only did it once every couple months). my grandfather and mom dropped me off at my apartment in early november, we were very lighthearted and discussing my next steps, since my shithead friend had been behind on rent more than 5 times (i always paid my half on time) and i was facing eviction because of it. we get to my apartment, i go to open the door, and it wont open. not that its locked, it just straight up WONT open. my grandpa tried to ram the door with his shoulder, and nothing. hes a strong ass dude, and this door wouldnt budge for anything.

my mom managed to get the kitchen window open and climb in that way, and it took both her and my grandpa pulling/pushing at the same time to force the door open. i wont even dress this up: there was mold. fucking. everywhere. on the floor, on the walls, all over everything i owned. i have pictures (had to take them for insurance) and im not even going to show them because they are beyond fucking disgusting. everything i owned was soaked in water and mold, and i do literally mean EVERYTHING. it was very warm in there too, like the temperature of a swamp. i was in a haze after that. i just remember sobbing, like genuinely heartbroken sobbing, as i wandered around looking at everything that was ruined. my mom & grandpa had to go and get maintenance because i was just utterly useless, and they were equally horrified & said they'd never seen anything like it.

i managed to save some items that were irreplaceable (journals, notebooks, etc) and whatever clothes werent utterly soaked in mold. all of my cookware, my books, my laptop & desktop (i cried the hardest when i saw the desktop) - it was all ruined. we found out later that the water boiler in my apartment had a catastrophic failure while i was gone, which caused it to constantly send water back through the pipes, empty, and refill itself. my bedroom was directly above the boiler downstairs, so it got the most significant amount of damage. all told, i lost like 95% of the things i owned. it is possible that i could have saved more, but the amount of mold in that apartment made it a genuine safety hazard for me to even be in there, so i had very limited time to grab what i could. the cruelest irony of all that? my shithead ex-friend's room, which was on the other side of the hallway, was pretty much untouched. he lost absolutely nothing lol.

so immediately, i had to leave the state. i moved back to ny with my family. my mother - who had a stroke last year following a diagnosis of an exceedingly rare neurological disorder, AND had two separate brain surgeries to improve her quality of life - was in the process of getting evicted. the landlord didnt give a fuck about any of my moms situation, not her being disabled, not her being widowed, not her having 3 kids under the age of 18 to care for - he just wanted her out so he could increase the cost of rent on our house. at the same time as all this was going on, i got saddled with a $600 electric bill (likely caused by the water heater's malfunction), which neither insurance nor the apartment would pay, so it came out of my pocket. in addition, i found out in december that i was also getting laid off.

we had nowhere to go and couldnt afford to live anywhere in the tri-state area. we had no choice but to move somewhere much cheaper, and since my mom already had a friend living in a mid-atlantic state, we chose to move there. the eviction went through in january and we had less than 2 weeks to pack all our shit, find a place to live, and get the fuck out. needless to say, we were not successful lol.

we stayed in my grandparents 1 bedroom apartment for about a week, then all of us drove down together to stay with my moms friend in her 3 bedroom apartment (she has 5 kids, 3 of whom live in the apartment). my moms apartment, which was supposed to have been ready by january 31st, still had people actively living there. the property manager kept promising us it would be next week for the entire month of february, to the point that my mom got fed up and chose to rent a small house instead. the reality of being essentially homeless for that time was beyond horrifying, and having anywhere between 8-10 people in that house (my cousin also moved with us, but he stayed in a hotel for the first week) was more taxing than i can express.

but things have gotten a lot better since then. i also found a cute little house to rent just up the road from my moms, and its very cheap for its size. i still havent found a job yet, but thanks to what was essentially the liquidation of everything i owned, ill be ok for a couple months more. im slowly but surely repurchasing all the things i lost and trying to acclimate to the new environment. things are still not totally stable right now, but they are slowing down, and at this point thats all i can really ask for lol.

so yeah. if u were wondering why i suddenly stopped posting after literal years of posting every day, thats why LMAO

[thatoneperson747]

Hi

So while procrastinating writing the fic I'm working on, I decided it was time for me to read the Royal Ranger. I only have book one, and I've had it for about a year now, but I never read even the first page. I've heard stuff throughout the fandom about it, but I've tried to stay away from royal ranger specific posts in order to not spoil the book for me.

If you also haven't read it yet and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading now. You've been warned.

Here's the things I knew before reading:

Will has a beard now. This is very controversial.

Alyss dies. She was burned to death. Also very controversial.

Horace and Cassie have a daughter named Maddie. Maddie becomes Will's apprentice.

And that's about it.

I decided that since the Royal Ranger was so hit or miss for the community, I'd document my thoughts on it (as a personal record, if you will) and see how my opinions change, if they change at all. Feel free to laugh at me if I make predictions and they end up being completely wrong lol

I've read the first seven chapters, and here are the main thoughts I have right now.

1. Is Will now just Halt? When he was first being described during the scene with Henry Wheeler, I dead ass thought Flanagan was talking about Halt. I mean, Will is grey already? Like, fully grey. He's described as having a "steel-grey beard." Not grey and brown, just grey. Halt???

2. Alyss' death fit her character well, but why did she have to die? Keep in mind, I was never the biggest fan of Alyss - I thought a character as interesting as a diplomat should have more personality than just "the main character's girlfriend" - but come on? We barely got to see them married. Idk man. I feel like her death would be better justified if they had actually like. been together longer? 10/10 for writing her death though, saving a poor child from death seems really in character for her, especially considering that's pretty much what Baron Arald did for the ward kids (he didn't die for it but still, he saved them from a childhood of neglect and almost certain death). I feel like it's a great wrap to her story, although I wish her story was longer.

3. Crowley was done dirty. What the actual f u c k Flanagan? The Corps Commander, the man, myth, and legend gets a paragraph to explain his death. It's such a lamely written death too? Crowley, a ranger, who was probably in peak health, just nopes out one night. At least he was smiling..? And maybe it's the fact that TEY is my favorite part of the series so far, but Crowley deserved way better than that shit. Also I'm surprised that I managed to not know about Crowley's death before this?? I actually cried reading it. He was such a precious little man in TEY, how could you do this Flanagan???

4. Maddie is a bit of a brat. Not even a bit, she kinda just is. To be fair, Cassie was that way sometimes as well, but Maddie just seems... I don't know, too much of a 'I-do-what-I-want-and-you-can't-stop-me' kinda person, but in a bad way??? Like that one kid in school who would never listen to authority figures and got everyone in trouble all the time? I hope she mellows out because she could be a great character, I think. It's said she takes after her mom, but I'd like to see her act like Horace too.

5. Gilan. Just Gilan. What?? I never liked his relationship with Jenny much, he seems quite a bit too old for her (at least 5 years, most likely quite a bit more since Halt had a few years between Gilan and Will), but he's so relentless in asking her to marry him? Huh??

And also, BOLD of Flanagan to assume Gilan would be hesitant about letting a girl into the corps. This man has traveled with Cassie. He's traveled with Lydia from Brotherband. He knows women are capable. I mentioned not liking his and Jenny's relationship, but like. he even respects her. She's a business woman, she owns her own restaurant. No one can possibly convince me that Gilan doesn't drink his respect-women juice DAILY. It feels out of character for him.

6. Poor Duncan. That's the end of the sentence.

7. Those guards are hysterical. Ah, yes, let's just casually not mention or try to stop the princess sneaking in and out of the castle even though this could end really really badly. Perfect logic.

And yeah that's all I got right now. I'm very excited to see how my opinions so far change! I'll document them here too in case anyone cares. Feel free to reblog with your own RR opinions and the like! I'd love to see what you guys think of my takes lol

[sipsandfables]

Unfiltered Thoughts While Reading: Fourth Wing

⚠️⚠️⚠️BEWARE OF A BEVY OF SPOILERS ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Chapter 1

​​I really like Mira so far - not too sure about their mom yet lol

​​Is Brennan REALLY dead? Lol Could be a page pulled from Red Queen

​​Their mom might have been Manon in an alternate universe

​​“Decide, Violet. Are you going to die a scribe? Or live as a rider?’”

​​I love the relationship between the two sisters

​​“He's the most exquisite man I've ever seen.”

I mean, Xaden does sound pretty hot. I’m a sucker for dark hair and dark eyes lol

​​“Flaming hot. Scorching hot. Gets-you-into-trouble-and-you-like-it level of hot.” ​

🤣​​🤣​​🤣​

​​ Nooooo! I had a feeling Dylan wouldn’t make it ​😭​

​​Chapter 2

​​Jack Barlowe - even his name sounds like a dick

​​Chapter 3

​​So there are four wings, with 3 sections in each wing, and 3 squads in each section making it 4 wings, 12 sections, and 36 squads total

​​“I will not die today”

​​Chapter 5

​​so Violets mom opposed General Melgren about the rebel children - wonder if they have animosity

​​Lol well Violets plan of getting Ri to ask her questions didn’t work ​🤣​

​​Damn, does her mom hate her? Why would she send Violet to do this??? Lol

​​Chapter 6

​​Aw, I really hope Brennan isnt actually dead and it’s a plot twist because he seems like a character I’d love

​​Chapter 7

​​It’s so strange that the people with the most motivation for revenge (rebel children) are put in such high power by training to become riders WITH MAGIC AND DRAGONS

​​Oh and look, a bunch of them are gathering to scheme even though it’s illegal for more than three to be seen together lol

​​Violet hanging out in a tree while passing judgement on this group is hilarious

​​“‘Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you're really a violent little thing, aren't you?’”

​​Alright, I admit that I love their dynamic lol

​​Chapter 8

​​I’m surprised Dain didn’t see her rendezvous with Xaden since they touched and he can see memories

​​I wonder if the decrease in the number of dragons willing to bond speaks to the fact that the dragons’ don’t align with humans like before

​​Omggggg I hope Violet gets the black one! If dragons bond with humans like them, it would make sense because she’s so smart

​​Omg was the one and only rider of the black dragon Brennan?! The last time he was seen was five years ago which is when Brennan “died” and the teacher looked at Violet when he told the story of how the rider died

​​Oh I got it wrong, Brennan was the rider that was trying to be resurrected

​​Omg i totally thought it was Jack volunteering to spar Violet. I’m glad it’s Xaden instead hahaha

​​Chapter 9

​​Violence? I love the nickname haha

​​“Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.” ​

🤣​​🤣​​🤣​

​​Am I the only one getting hot and bothered by this death match? Lollll

​​“Defenseless women have never been my type.”

Okay sir ​👀​​🥵​

​​Man, I get Dain is her bestie but he is trying way too hard to get her out of the rider squadrant - just believe in her

​​Chapter 10

​​Theory time: the rider who died trying to save Brennan was his lover. He didn’t do it for fame, he did it because he loved Brennan. The black dragon is going to take Violet as his rider because of the special bond his rider had with her brother. BOOM

​​I already liked Ridoc before because I resonate with cracking jokes through hard times but now I like him even more and respect him

​​Violets squad: Sawyer, Pryor, Trina, Tynan, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Violet, Aurelie, and Luca

​​I hope everyone on this squad stays alive because I like them and their dynamic. I also hope Sawyer gets a dragon this year ​😭​

​​As I read the Gauntlet practice scenes, I just picture the final challenge on Wipe Out ​🤣​

​​Aurelie ​😭​​😭​​😭​

​​“Do not make me ask three times.” ​

👀​ or what Zaddy?

​​“What makes you a rider is what you do after people die.”

​​

​​Things I like about this book so far:

​​Female lead is not annoying. She’s very logical and the writer SHOWS that she’s smart instead of telling

​​The pacing is great. What a page turner! And the chapters aren’t impossibly long. The book is long but it doesn’t FEEL like it

​​The romance between the main ship is not cringe! They’re dynamic is hot. He’s hot. She’s hot. It’s all hot

​​There is more than one badass female characters! It’s giving Throne of Glass series (Aelin, Manon, Lysandra, etc)

​​

​​Chapter 11

​​Does that mean someone will be punished for not burning Brennans things? Or does it not matter because Brennan is ALIVE?!

​​okay, so there’s a lot of representation in this book and I’m loving it (people of color, gay, they/them pronouns, etc)

​​I mean if Dain REALLY cared about her survival, he’d help more! He would have watched her practices and given her ideas on how to make it - not continue to try to get her to quit!

​​Violet is a fucking badass. LETSGOOOO

​​I also love how shameless her mind is when describing how sexy Xaden is lol

​​Also, I notice that Dain isn’t mentioned AT ALL during this whole thing about her making it through the gauntlet. Shouldnt he have been there also defending her win???? Sus

​​Chapter 12

​​Ahhh there’s a Feathertail? Maybe THATS the one that she bonds with since they abhore violence and are smart (sounds like Violet)

​​OR the Feathertail will report back to the black dragon about Violet and he comes during the Threshing ​👀​

​​Damn these dragons are heartless! Poor Pryor. But also, humans are heartless - Tynan and Luca can jump off a cliff

​​I hope that the awesome conversation Violet and Rhi are having throughout this walk means they’ll get awesome dragons

​​OMG finally someone I dislike diess LOL freaking Luca. Bye Felicia

​​Chapter 13

​​Hmmm, if Violet hasn’t felt a connection with the feather one so far then I don’t think they’ll bond. Maybe she hasn’t felt a connection because the black dragon wasn’t on the walk and Tynan will bond with that gold one to teach him a lesson about strength?

​​I wish Tynan also got burned to a crisp during presentation

​​Threshing is giving me “Manon and the Thirteen must fight others for Wyverns” vibes

​​Okay, maybe the gold dragon IS her dragon lol

​​I’m proud of Violet for coming to the Gold dragons defense but I’m relieved that Xaden was there with his dragon hahaha

​​Chapter 14

​​I FUCKING KNEW IT! It’s the black dragon! Here to claim Violet!!! Fuck yes!!

​​This fucking dragon is hilarious. I love him already

​​“"My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line."

​​Tairn, this dragon is so sassy hahahaha

​​SHE FALLS OFF?!

​​Chapter 15

​​“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

I’m ded hahahah this dragon ​🤣​ He reminds me of Venom in the Venom movie with Tom Hardy lol

​​“Was everyone’s dragon a curmudgeon? Or just mine?” ​

💀​​💀​​💀​​💀​

​​“"You are the smartest of your year. The most cunning. You defended the smallest with ferocity. And strength of courage is more important than physical strength.” ​

❤️​​❤️​​❤️​

​​SHE FUCKING BONDED WITH BOTH?!

​​What. A. Legend.

​​Chapter 16

​​Damn, even the head dragon isn’t a huge fan of this? Now I’m concerned because General Melgren is obviously a bad guy lol

​​I’m so glad Sawyer got bonded this time around! And Rhi and Ridoc are bonded!!! Yay!

​​Poor Trina

​​Tairn told you to stay with Xaden and you’re not LISTENING!

​​Oh I didn’t see the dragons bond coming!!!

​​Damn Dain, that’s cold. But I knew it - he’s no real ride or die bestie!!!

​​I really do like Violet but her undying faith in Dain is pissing me off

​​Strange how Dain kisses her after all this time only because she has TWO bonded dragons ​😒​

​​Chapter 17

​​But if you really think about it, Violet didn’t take any available dragons away from others - Tairn hasn’t been seen in five years and Goldie was unwanted and a surprise at presentation

​​“Your puny gods”

lol I love Tairn

​​Chapter 18

​​Yes! Finally Violet sticks it to Dain. I’m tired of his shit too

​​Omggggg poor Jeremiah. That was brutal

​​the golden dragon can freeze time?! What a badass power!

​​chapter 19

​​Dang, Xadens rejection to Violet had ME in my feelings - what do you mean you wouldn’t sleep with her to keep her safe?!

​​Omg Andarna is adorable - she better not die EVER

​​Ohhhhh, a Feathertail is a baby dragon?

​​I bet it was Imogen who opened the door for those people to kill Violet

​​Chapter 20

​​Based on the intro of this chapter, now I’m thinking it was Amber because she’s the only female wing leader I can recall

​​Yep, it was Amber!

​​Also, I love their squads banter and camaraderie lol

​​Fucking Dain - you’re the worst

​​I’m glad they were able to show undeniable truth since SOMEONE refused to believe her ​😒​

​​Chapter 21

​​I love that there’s even more representation in here with the hearing impaired scribe

​​Liam sounds hot lol

​​Something sus is happening with this war

​​Chapter 22

​​I’d be staring too ​👀​

​​So our boy Jack is allergic to oranges hmmm? Funny how a guy that talks so much shit can be killed by produce. Just saying

​​Okay now I’ve reached the “when will they get it on?!” Point lol

​​Xaden is just giving out hot compliments left and right ​🥵​

​​FINALLY! It only took two dragons fucking for Violet and Xaden to finally give in lol

​​Nooooooo! Damn Xaden for thinking straight lol

​​Chapter 23

​​I see what Rhiannon is hinting at - that Xaden is only the most powerful rider in their generation for NOW because it was before Violet got here lol Gotta love that bestie support!

​​Man Dain really needs to step up - he’s giving Tamlin vibes right now

​​I knew Jack was allergic to oranges! I hope he’s dead!

​​Chapter 24

​​Damn, still alive

​​A guy burned himself alive with his own power?! Man, this squadrant is insane and brutal

​​Violet’s mom is cold as ice

​​Chapter 25

​​the most valuable thing would be intel! They should think like a Scribe, like Violet

​​Liam and I are on the same page!

​​Break into the Commander’s office?! This could go horribly wrong! What if they see stuff they’re not supposed to?!

​​“‘Scribes freak me out. Quiet little know-it-alls, acting like they can make or break someone by writing something down.’” ​

🤣​​🤣​​🤣​

​​Alright, pretty badass plan

​​Chapter 26

​​Mira!!! I’m so glad they got to see each other and that Rhi got to see her family ​🥰​

​​Omg mated dragons can only be a part for three days?!

​​It’s strange that earlier in the book they made it seem like Tairn hasn’t been seen for five years but if he’s mates to the blue dragon, wouldn’t he be seen wherever Xaden is?

​​Chapter 28

​​I love how intense and dangerous Tairn is one minute and super cheeky the next haha

​​FINALLY JACK IS DEAD! Fuck that guy!

​​And yessssss, Lightening Wielder sounds badass!

​​Chapter 29

​​I swear if Andarna dies in this series, I’m going to RIOT. She’s so pure and wonderful ​🥹​

​​“Get the fuck away from her with that nonsense.”

Xaden does not mince words and I love it haha

​​Xaden and Tairn’s pep talk to Violet is way better than Dain’s

​​I mean she has a point about her powers. They’re badass but yeah, pretty destructive lol

​​Chapter 30

​​Well this escalated quickly ​👀​​🥵​

​​Pretty awesome that dudes take contraception lol

​​Xaden is responsible for all the rebel children?! Omg I bet it was her mom that gave him those scars! That’s what he meant when they ran into the commander previously

​​I’m not a fan of when the male lead says “Don’t fall for me” like bro, it’s too late - I’m invested haha

​​This training session with Carr is hilarious lol

​​I think I like professor Carr more now

​​Chapter 31

​​I’m pleasantly surprised she comes right out and says “yeah I’m probably going to fall for you if we keep this up” lollll most characters in this position stay in denial until it backfires lol

​​“He really does have an incredible body, but he doesn't get to dictate what I do with my heart.”

Preach girl

​​I’m living for all of page 393 - you go Violet!

​​Damn, I really like Violet lol

​​Chapter 32

​​​🔥​​🔥​​🔥​

​​Cheaper 33

​​Phew, thank goodness it was a fake drill!

​​Hmmmm, something tells me this fake war is about to get real

​​Omg why is Andarna so adorable?! Tairn will carry her like a human dad carrying his baby in a bjorn lol

​​Idk that “I’ll miss you, Violet.” from Dain was a little SUS. He was way too quick to make amends with her decision. Something fishy is going on

​​Xaden and the other rebel kids in the fourth wing are also acting sus. Like they know more about this scenario than they’re letting on. Why are they all so tense if it’s just a game? Why did Dain’s dad give Xaden a weird look?

​​Chapter 34

​​did the Gryphons start attacking after unification because Navarre took something from them and made it harder for the Gryphons to get it back after unifying nations?

​​Ah! I had a feeling the Gryphons and their riders weren’t so savage as the Navarre historians and leaders want people to believe!

​​Chapter 35

​​Okay, we can recover from this Violet! Sure everyone including your two bonded dragons and the love of your life lied to you over and over BUT it must have been for a good reason. I’d give them the benefit of the doubt over Dain and the others any day

​​Okay Violet really believing Dain would break rules to save people is ludicrous. I like Violet but her thinking on this is stupid

​​Theory time - Violets mom killed their dad because he was in the know about venin and ready to go public

​​Another theory - Dain and his dad have known about venin this whole time. Dain’s being used to help continue to cover it up. He’s also been lying to her technically as much as Xaden has been

​​I fucking knew it! Dain has been reading her memories this whole time! Duh girl!!!

​​The real question is if more than just Dain and his dad concocted this plan to kill Xaden

​​If Xaden dies, there’s a chance Violet would die because of their dragon bond so wouldn’t her mom know that? But would she even care? Or mayb her mom is like The Hound from the crescent city series

​​Chapter 36

​​“We’re riders. We defend the defenseless. It’s what we do.”

​​Damn, so General Melgren can’t see the fate of people with rebellion relics? Good

​​The level of stress I have reading these last 80ish pages is HIGH

​​I don’t want anyone in this riot to die! Or the Gryphons and their riders!

​​maybe her mom knew she’d survive because of what general Melgren can see? Which might explain why she was fine with making Violet become a rider

​​Whyyyy would you say “we actually might survive this”?!?! Now people will die!

​​“It’s been. My honor.”

​​I am unwell

​​​😭​​😭​​😭​ Liam

​​Chapter 37

​​So many emotions rn fucking hell

​​Chapter 38

​​Omg if they are going where I think they’re going I’m going to be shooketh ARE THEY TAKING HER TO BRENNAN?!

​​Another theory - the reason why the number of dragons willing to bond is decreasing, is because more dragons are bonding with the rebels and not the Navarre military

​​Violet is annoying me with her thoughts about Xaden right now though. Girl, you saw and fought that evil and you still mad that Xaden didn’t bring you in sooner?! Get over it and live lol

​​The person Xaden is asking to save her HAS to be Brennan - he was a mender

​​Chapter 39

​​we’re getting a Xaden chapter?! Is this the end?!

​​Something doesn’t feel right - did she lose her memories? Why is she being so nice to Xaden right away? Sus

​​Oh good her memory is back! I was about to be pissed if all of book 2 was her trying to recall book 1 lol

​​What happened to Xaden’s mom?! Sounds like another storyline ​👀​

​​Andaran became full grown?! Can wait to hear what she looks like and her special power

​​BRENNAN I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!

​​Well if Violet didnt trust Xaden before, she definitely won’t now! Keep a dead brother secret seems pretty big lol

​​I wonder what Tairn thinks of Brennan since his rider died saving him

​​also, I’d be low key pissed at my sibling! I wonder if Mira knows about Brennan. I assume not - maybe he thinks she’s too much like their mom?

Me after finishing the final page:

[be-curious-and-not-judgemental]

The last installment of The Reluctant Male Bridgerton Re-watch.

We sat down and binged the last 3 episodes as he was busy on Thursday evening and leaving on Friday morning. So here's the recap until season 3 (in no particular order)

1) "these two have the best chemistry. Much better than the first couple. But i think cuz one doesn't look so young. I have no idea how anyone will beat them." Kanthony for the win!

2) "they tease each other like brothers, they did great casting." A/B/C

3) "ooh, someone is scheming the other one. Is he playing her or is she playing him?" Lord Featherington and Portia

4) "I think Edwina has the right to be pissed. But how are they gonna fix it so those two can marry?"

5) "uhh, Eloise keeps going back to this guy. Remember when I thought it was gonna be the Footman? Oops, got that one wrong!"

6) "so Colin is starting to like Penelope now heh? it's good to see that cuz he was so hung up on the other one, I couldn't figure how he was gonna start liking Penelope but I can sort of see it happening now." Said after the cake-purpose scene. But he unfortunately changes his tune at the end of the episode.

7) "the acting is much better this season. Like everyone is good. I think the Bridgerton mom is really good. And the Queen is good too."

8) "I predict Portia kills Lord Featherington during the ball." Haha! What a scandal that would have been!

9) "I like that there are so many unresolved storylines going into season 3. Like the art guy and Penelope and Eloise. Like it's not just gonna be about a couple, other things are happening. Season 2 was better than season 1 for that too."

10) "not gonna lie, I like this over Pride and Prejudice. It has funny moments and more drama. I'm not as bored. I'll watch season 3 when it comes out." So another Bridgerton fan was made in less than a month, nice!

11) "I like that those two fought. Like it made them interesting, but I think they'll make up, before Colin and Penelope at least." Gosh, I really hope Peneloise are back in season 3.

12) "ouch, she's had a rough night. I thought he was supposed to be kind to Penelope? But I guess that's the way guys are, all talk and everything is for laughs. But the way he says it, I mean, damn!" He actually read the scene as Colin making fun of Pen. I wont post what he actually said cuz I vehemently disagreed that THAT is how the show meant for Colin to perceive Penelope. And I was a bit shocked he viewed it that way. Anyway, he thinks Penelope shouldn't forgive and move on. I spoiled him about the books and showed him the Season 3 pics in hopes to turn the tide. It's interesting to note that his view of Colin hasn't been overly favorable whereas I think Colin is a great character. More impassioned and impulsive than the books but overly a good guy. His views on Penelope aren't as clear. He loves her reactions mostly. Although he says she's a better character in season 2 over season 1.

13) "geez, this show sure likes to show the guys going downtown on the ladies. Its like the Bridgerton sex trademark!" OMG, 🤣

14) "Okay, is everyone just watching these two make out? The moms are right there!" Epilogue, haha

So that's it. It's been a lot of fun watching through the eyes of a non-Bridgerton fan. Kept me more honest. Both Colin and Penelope are not perfect, but I can't wait to see them grow and develop as individual characters and as a couple. Season 3 cannot come soon enough.

Thanks for sticking around! I encourage everyone who can, find a reluctant male (it doesn't have to be your spouse, mine was my ex) and do your own re-watch. We could start a series, lol!