#i don’t write very often and it’s even less often that i produce something i’m proud of so

[tamed-kratts]

★ Stargazer ★

Chris Kratt x Reader

Warnings: very tiny angst, miscommunication, putting pollen in the warnings cuz of allergies 😡

Summary: Chris, your current crush, has been ignoring you for a month. You’re about to find out why.

A/N: Never explicitly says reader is female and no pronouns are used but I write my readers to act kinda feminine so beware. Although, this one is pretty neutral. Also Chris would totally just dip the second he has a crush on someone LMAO. One more thing, i low-key diss cats at one point in this fic but don’t be mistaken. I love them.

It had been another warm summer day in North America, a humid breeze flew into the Tourtuga and in your nose as you lay in your reclining chair while staring at your phone screen. There wasn't much going on, the rest of your crew had been looking at some bug they found, you weren’t all that interested, you didn't think anyone would even notice your disappearance. But someone did.

Chris walked into the Tortuga timidly, avoiding eye contact with you as he hurriedly went to his own room, his steps were quick and he made a beeline down a hallway in the large turtle ship. Normally, you wouldn’t fret over one of the kratt brothers acting suspicious, since they were always up to something, but lately you felt as though Chris had been acting especially strange. Around one month ago, he started avoiding you. If you walked in the same room as him, he would make some lame excuse like “I have to go organize the gear.” before running out the room to the garage, leaving you and whoever he was previously talking to. It was pathetic, you had actually grown a small crush on him and it was tearing you apart to have him just pretend you didn’t exist.

He was a big factor to why you didn’t bother trying to hang out with the crew today, you didn’t really feel up to hanging out with your crush who obviously hated your guts.

A new pair of foot steps walked in, they were heavier and louder, it was Martin. “Hey, Y/n, ‘sup?” Martin, unlike his brother, did enjoy your company. He often went out of his way to ask how you were and about your well being. He reminded you of a dog, curious of its owner's whereabouts after a long day of work. You guess that made Chris a cat, one that hissed and bit you if you pet it for a second too long and hated you for the rest of its life. "Nothing, how are you?" You said.

“I’m good, me and Chris came inside to get changed. We’re covered in pollen and Koki said if we don’t get into some clean clothes she’ll leave us here, heh.” He laughed, but knowing Koki, she was probably serious. Looking at him, you realized his usually white shirt was now stained yellow and his blue blazer had spots green on them. "But I'm sure Chris told you all about it and probably more."

You sighed, "No, he didn’t. Chris probably wouldn’t even stay in the same room as me if he was suffocating and my skin produced oxygen." You rolled your eyes, annoyed by Chris’ childish behavior.

"What are you talking about?" Martin said, turning his head curiously.

"Chris hasn't spoken a word to me in almost a month, and when I walk into a room, he bolts out before I can even look at him." You said this a lot less confident than the last time you talked, mostly out of fear of how Martin would react. Martin just stared at you as a smile slowly grew on his lips, as if he was plotting something.

"Huh, well, I have NO idea AT ALL why that would be happening, heh…" He scratched the back of his neck before backing up to the main exit of the Tortuga. "If I were you, I'd ask him about flowers."

"Flowers?" You tilted your head as if you were confused if you heard him correctly. Chris had never shown an interest in flowers unless they had something to do with an animal. But just flowers by themselves?

"Yup, flowers. Specifically a Stargazer Lily.” He smirked and ran back outside.

“Martin, wait!” You yelled. “You didn’t change your shirt…” Sighing, you went back on your phone for a few minutes before Chris left his room.

“Chris?” He sped up. “Chris!” You jumped out of your seat and ran towards him, barely catching his arm. Standing next to him with your arm wrapped around his, you realized he didn’t have on his green fleece jacket like usual. It was slung on his shoulder lazily, probably to get out of the Tortuga as quickly as possible.

"Can we talk?" His posture stiffened up and he looked away from you, it kinda put you at ease knowing you weren't lying under his judgmental gaze. But it made you wonder what excuse he was plotting.

You squeezed his arm tighter. "Please." He had looked down, embarrassed and shamefully, before nodding his head. "Yeah. Sure."

Slowly, you let go of his arm; to your own dismay. You both walked over to your desk, he pulled up a chair across from you. Just like he did before he stopped talking to you, you felt bittersweet.

"So…what bug are you checking out?"

Still, he avoided eye contact. "Honey Bees, nothing special."

"What have you learned from them?" You asked; partially curious, mostly to just talk.

"Well, they communicate through scent and dance. They also are a matriarchal led society, so there's only a handful of male bees in a hive."

"That's cool." An awkward pause was held between you both, it was probably the most uncomfortable silence you had ever sat in.

He stood up, his hand supporting himself on the chair as he got back on his feet. "If that's all, you wanted to talk about, the-"

"Why are you ignoring me? Did I offend you or something? If I did, why didn't you tell me?"

He stared at you like you were crazy. “What?”

“You aren’t talking to me and every time I walk in a room you leave, you don’t look at me and you just tried to run outside!” He got tense, but you didn’t notice and continued ranting. “I really miss you, I thought we were friends. That’s why I thought you’d come to me if I did something wrong but you never did and I- ugh! Do you know how much I miss you? I really like you!” Covering your mouth to stop the flow of word vomit, you gasped. Chris wore a shocked expression too and his cheeks began to flush. “I-I mean like, I like your company…”

You were going to try and explain yourself further, but Chris had already begun speaking. “I don’t hate you or anything I just-“ he sighed heavily “…Do you remember a few weeks back, when we snuck out of the tortuga?” You recalled the event, it was the last time you two spoke before Chris went on his silence strike.

You heard of a few constellations being incredibly visible in the sky at the time. So you and him had planned to meet at the top of the tortuga that night to stargaze. You both agreed to not invite anyone else, just you two and your shared interests. You stayed up there for hours, talking about nothing in particular.

“I used to wanna be an astronaut when I was a kid, y’know? My childhood room is covered in space stuff. I even used to have my own telescope.” You reminisced about going out on summer nights and looking at the moon.

He chuckled. “I'm not surprised, you knew a lot about the moon when me and Martin got stuck on it that one time.” He remembered how you couldn’t stop ranting about moon folklore. “You also have a lot of space stickers in that binder you let me borrow. Plus you had a minor in astronomy in college.”

You stared at him, amazed. “You remember all that?” You said, surprised anyone would pay that much attention to you. His cheeks grew a light shade of red.

“Uh yeah, we spend a lot of time together. How could I not.”

“Oh. Yeah…” you said, staring back up at the sky, the Sagitta constellation, amazed at its beauty. Meanwhile, Chris stared at you.

“It's so beautiful.”

“Yeah…stunning…”

The next day, Chris was talking to Martin about the conversation you both had last night. He said he felt strange at the end. And in Martin fashion, he yelled “You’re in love!” Chris brushed it off at first, but everytime he looked at your face that word echoed in his skull.

“Love, love, love…” He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. And looking at you now was hard. Your face was flushed and your eyes were awestruck.

“Is that…really why? You aren’t just messing with me, right?” He choked on his own words.

“I- No! I know it's stupid! I just-…you’re really nice and pretty and you always listen when I talk. I couldn’t help but fall for you.” His chocolate brown eyes were completely honest. You leaned forward and cupped one side of his face with your hand.

“I am…so happy you said that.” The kiss was soft and kind, you both melted into each other's grasp as you enjoyed the warmth of one another’s skin. When you pulled away, he smiled kindly and leaned in for another kiss.

“Hold on, lover boy,” You said, covering his mouth with your hand. “I asked Martin about this and he said to mention some flowers called stargazer lilies, what’s that about?” He cringed for a second and held his face in one hand.

“Please don’t make me say it…”

“You haven’t talked to me in a month, you owe me this.” He sighed in defeat.

“I was going to get you these flowers I found because they reminded me of you. I was going to give them to you but I got…nervous and I…”

“…you?”

“I stuffed them into this vent. Martin saw and told on me to Aviva. Then, she asked what I was doing with flowers and Martin told her that I liked you. After that, they’ve been trying to matchmake me with you. I'm pretty sure Jimmy and Koki know also…”

“We do!” Said a voice from outside. Looking in the doorway, you saw your fellow crew members peeking inside to invade you both.

“Smooth, bro!” Martin said, giving his steaming brother a thumbs up before running off while being chased by him. The rest of the crew crowded around you to ask you about your relationship with Chris.

“What can I say? I like looking at stars.”

[bluestripedspeedo]

Indiscreet - 05. In the Mood for Love Pairing: Writer/Producer!Javi Gutierrez x you (Hollywood AU) SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: This is it. The Big Moment. Chapter warning: NSFW, NC-17, mature, no minors allowed. Discussion of safety, oral (both you and Javi), PIV, dirty talk, daddy kink (not the DDLG kind), age gap (mid 20s and mid 40s). Word count: 9.8k

Playlist: Dress - Taylor Swift So It Goes

Author's note: I had this in the queue two years ago, then life got in the way and I abandoned it. I've decided to return because I feel I have a responsibility to finish what I started, so here it is, the very long awaited smut chapter!

I've also decided to tweak the previous chapters a lot because I've changed as a person in these two years, so it's better to reread those first, as a refresher too. When I first started writing this, it was going to be about a pandemic/quarantine romance - it was initially inspired by The Bubble's premise anyway. But... that's old news now, and I don't feel like going back to that space of mind. You fall in love under different circumstances now.

Enjoy and apologies for my absence. I promise to be here more often!

✧✧✧

Day 9

The wrap party is held at the villa where you’d been filming for the past week. All of the cast and crew members are present except for one glaring absence – Dieter Bravo. He’d left the set faster than Óscar could even announce it’s a wrap. In full costume, no less.

Javi has to do something about that. Dieter’s a brilliant actor, that’s undeniable, but his public image hasn’t been positive lately. Hunger Strike helped him sweep the awards season, and if Dieter could be a little more professional, Javi wouldn’t mind pushing the campaign for his work in this too. He’s lucky he physically resembles Javi a little… As long as Javi keeps writing self-insert characters into his scripts, Dieter will always have a job waiting. 

The dinner part of the party is over – people are scattered around the garden mingling and draining the last bottles of champagne and making plans for the few days off until work resumes in London.

“Óscar,” you sit down between him and Javi. They have settled on the chairs they dragged to the corner to overlook the sea while they drink and smoke. “I’m gonna go with those guys. They’ll drive me back.”

Your head nudges towards the group laughing boisterously on the steps of the villa. Some are crew, some are your co-stars that you’ve been working with since the start of the production, and some are new local actors hired just for the duration of the shoot here. They’ve made such a tight knit group you’re surprised that they even asked you to come along at all.

“Taking the party elsewhere?” Óscar asks.

“Yeah… we’re going to Saint-Tropez.”

“We could go with you. If you want.” Javi carefully masks his hopeful tone.

“We’re gonna hit up some clubs...”

“You’re way too old for that.” Óscar slaps Javi on the shoulder.

“Right,” Javi drinks the rest of his cognac in one gulp and pours another, since he’s not going anywhere tonight by the looks of it. “Might displace my hip on the dance floor or something.” 

You laugh. “You’re good. It’s just… I never went out with any of them, so… could be fun.” 

“Oh my God, go, we’re not your parents,” Óscar shoos you. “Just be on the boat on time tomorrow. And ask the others, too.”

“Will do, Dad.”

Javi chokes on his drink and Óscar snorts. He gets up when the cinematographer and boom operator drunkenly call for his attention. “Have fun, kid.” 

“Take care of yourself. Don’t drink too much.” Javi says once Óscar is safely out of hearing distance. He didn’t see you drinking at all during dinner despite the free flowing alcohol and now he suspects it’s because you’ve planned on going all out for the after party. He doesn’t mean to be controlling, but he’s supportive of your intention to cut back and he doesn’t really trust that party crowd to look after you. Not that he thinks you couldn’t do it yourself, but it would give him a peace of mind if you were going to be inebriated.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that. I just feel like I should go. They’re my castmates. I haven’t spent much time with them, or even at all.” All thanks to the man sitting across from you, but you have no regrets. “And, you know, networking.”

“We both know you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he grins. “Where are you going? Do you know yet?”

“No, but probably something really cliche like Les Caves or VIP.”

“Is Elise coming too? I don’t see her.”

“She left. Like ten minutes ago. Don’t ask me how I know and don’t tell anyone, but she’s following Dieter.” 

Oh, shit. Javi’s eyes go wide. 

“Hey, don’t ask.”

Javi is incredulous. Is he that oblivious to even his actors now? He’s on set most days and he always keeps a closer eye on them to anticipate any on set drama. He’s known them both for as long as he’s been in the industry and he usually could get a good read on these things. Takes one to know one. Maybe he’s really been that distracted.

“What about Ross? Is he coming with you?”

“Yeah. Why?” A coy smile slowly forms on your lips.

“Nothing. I heard he asked you out.” He looks away from you into the distance. 

You fake a gasp. “Were you eavesdropping on me?”

“He was pretty damn loud about it.”

“Then you know I told him I have a boyfriend, right?”

“I thought so. The way his face fell. If only he could emote that well on camera.”

“Javi! That’s mean!”

“You know I’m not wrong.”

He’s right. You might be new, but you figured a while ago Ross couldn’t have been cast for his talents but rather his heartthrob status for maximum PR.

“So who’s the boyfriend?” Javi playfully side eyes you and you nudge your knee to his. “Can’t be me, too old for that.”

“Uh huh. Let’s see…” You pretend to think. “Man-friend? Lover?”

Javi groans and makes a face.

“Ooh, I know,” you look at him seductively. “Daddy.”

“Careful.” Fuck.

“Wow… I…” your eyes widen. This is definitely interesting. “...can’t wait to explore that.”

“It only sounds hot coming from you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Any cute nicknames for me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He throws you a teasing glance. “You could’ve found out an hour from now, give or take.” You look at him in question, so he continues. “I have a whole surprise planned – had.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“‘Surprise’ being the key word there, babe.”

“I could tell them–”

“No, forget I said anything. Go have fun.”

“But–”

“Honey. We can’t exactly hang out with each other’s friends, so when you have the chance to be with them, you go, okay? I’ll be fine.” He might be seeing things but he swears he sees your eyes tear up… with relief. Why do you need permission so badly?

“Okay. I’ll see you later?”

“I can’t promise I’ll still be up. I’m ooooold.” He leans back on his chair, taking his time to admire you in your low cut dress under the guise of having a casual, professional conversation. 

“Hm, so is it your idea or Óscar’s to go to the casino tomorrow? That’s some old people shit.” The lightness comes back in your tone.

“Noitsnot.” Javi answers too quickly.

“Yeah, right. Looking forward to playing the jackpot?”

“I’ll have you know I’ll sweep you at poker.” 

“If you say so. I’ll make sure to wear something interesting to distract you.”

“That’s cheating but I’ll allow it.”

“And meanwhile,” you shift so he could get a better look at your cleavage. “Think about what could’ve happened if you’d told me your plans first.”

“Ah, so my usual thoughts. That’s easy.”

“Yeah, mine too.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “I didn’t come last night, daddy.”

He suppresses a groan. “Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“I had to. You made me so wet.” 

“I offered to take care of you, baby.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t come. I wanted to wait for you.”

“Fuck.”

“Well, now we’re even. See you tomorrow.”

You get up and leave to join your friends, leaving him hard and wanting as he pulls out a new cigarette. 

✧✧

Day 10

You are positively trying to kill him today. As if the thought of you touching yourself right under his room wasn’t enough to make his balls about to explode, now you’re lounging in the red one piece that drove him crazy a couple of months ago. He tries hard, very hard, to look at literally anything else. He hopes no one notices how long he’s been ‘taking pictures’ of the oceanic view. 

And it gets worse. When it’s time to dress up to the nines for the night, he puts on a light blue suit jacket, but you… you go beyond what you promised. You arrive last to the casino and in that moment, it’s as if everything in the room stops. It stirs something in him too when he sees people checking you out as you walk past them. 

“You look so handsome.” You tell him once you’re close enough. Óscar had gone straight to the high rollers table upon arrival, taking a few crew members on his dime. But Javi’s content with sitting around nursing his drink, waiting for you.

“This isn’t fair.” He gives you a quick once over.

“You like it?” You’re not usually one to wear something so revealing, but Javi makes you bold. You were saving this up for a proper date with him back in London, but there’s no time like the present. You can’t even be shy about showing so much because you need to elicit his reaction.

“It’s fucking fantastic.”

“You should see it on the floor.”

He drops his head and sighs heavily, then he points his drink towards the slot machines. “One round and we’re leaving.”

“What happened to poker? Are you chickening out?” You challenge him.

“No, but it takes much more time.”

“Excuses, excuses…” From here, you can see Óscar in your line of sight. “Why don’t we leave after he wins? Then he’ll be busy with the next round to notice us, right?”

“That’d be a while. He sucks.”

“Go and help him, then. Oh, how are we getting back?”

“We’re not. I’m getting us a suite.”

“I don’t know about that. It’s a lot less private around here. People talk.”

You’re right, and logistically it’s more difficult to explain both of your absences for the night and potentially tomorrow morning. The yacht isn’t an option, either.

“Let’s Uber, then.”

“Yeah, we can’t do that. It doesn’t work here.”

He studies your face while he calculates his options. “Sit tight, I have an idea.”

✧

The ‘idea’ turns out to be buying a fellow gambler’s car with his winnings. Of all things you expected to happen today, finding yourself in the backseat of a Pagani was not one. Javi was a few hundred thousand short but he didn’t think the guy cared that much. From the way he had been gawking at Javi and Óscar since they walked in, he probably would’ve given it away for free. His immaculate taste in cars was just a nice bonus. Plus, the color matches his suit. 

“I just have to send his kids some signed merch and arrange them a tour of the Beskar set. Great deal, huh?”

“You billionaires are weird.” You shake your head in amusement.

He starts the car and the revving attracts a few passersby. “What did you tell Óscar?” 

“That I’m tired and everyone else is busy having fun. He didn’t even blink.”

“Let’s hope they’ll keep him occupied ‘til tomorrow.”

The two of you ride in silence, enjoying the vast view of hills and sea, away from the city lights. Javi is relaxed and concentrated, and it gives you a warm, calm feeling seeing him this way.

“It’s been a long time since I drove a sports car. This is a vast improvement from the last one, though, definitely.” He looks over to your side, clearly enjoying his time. “Better looking passenger, too.”

“Pfft, come on! So cheesy.”

“I’m serious… It was with Nic.” Javi says with a chuckle. “You should’ve seen how everyone was looking at you.”

“Can’t say I noticed.”

“Hmm-mm. They were.”

“Did you like it? Or were you jealous?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I get jealous when I see other women checking you out. I’m not too proud to admit that.”

“But they don’t hold a candle to you. So don’t worry.”

“Same here. Don’t want anyone else.”

You caress his arm up to his shoulder where he turns his head to give your hand a kiss. Then you lightly travel down to tug at the buttons on his stomach, then his belt, then the zipper of his pants… you let out a soft moan when he involuntarily bucks towards your hand. Feeling brave, and to his surprise, you cup him over the material and he lets out a heavy groan. 

“Behave, baby. You keep that up and we won’t make it there.”

“Okay, but drive faster. Feels so heavy, Javi. I want it all in me. Make it fit.” Turning him on turns you on.

His hands on the steering wheel turn white. “Fuck yes baby you’re gonna take it. Wearing that dress like you’re begging to be fucked. I knew everyone in there pictured your bare tits.”

Oh. Your jaw drops. That’s… unexpected. You squeeze him in response and he immediately takes away your hand to clasp it above his knee.

“You’re so fucking naughty. Teasing me every day.” Javi’s deep voice drops a few more octaves and it makes you squirm. “What happened to waiting, hm?”

“I can’t. I’m tired of fingering myself to sleep, every night.” 

“Yeah? What did you think about when you did it?”

“Yours in me… mine aren’t thick enough, Javi,” you sigh from your own admission. “Your tongue. Feeling your mustache on me. You stretching m–”

You gasp when Javi suddenly grips your hand tightly. You’ve never seen Javi look this intense before. His nostrils flare, his eyes darken, and his breathing becomes so heavy you can hear it in the silence. 

“Want you fucking my mouth, daddy,” you continue, making him grip you again to the point of almost hurting. 

“You–” His mouth forms into a snarl. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You bring up his hand that grips you to run his thumb along your lips to nibble on it. You do the same to each finger, eyes looking at him putting all his effort into concentrating on the road ahead. He finally turns his head when you slip his middle finger past your lips to the knuckle, giving it a languid, sensual suck. A teaser of what’s to come. 

“Fuck, baby. You have to stop.” Javi lets out a moan as he focuses back on the road and you keep swirling your tongue around him, rubbing the underside back and forth as if it were–

You have an idea.

You hope you won’t crash and die on these hills. 

Your other hand makes a quick work hiking up your dress and your mouth lets go of his finger and you guide your hand and his between your thighs and–

Javi lets out an angry growl when his hand meets your soaked panties. “You get this wet from talking?”

“It’s you, Javi…” He starts rubbing you through the material and you throw your head back on the seat, moving your hips along with his movement. 

Then you have another idea.

You recline the seat, shimmy your ruined panties off, and drape your leg over the console to spread yourself open. The cold that hits you is nothing compared to the warmth of his massive hand so close to your center. Javi’s eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of their sockets. He can’t see you clearly in the dark, but he can definitely feel your wetness on the leather. 

“Please, Javi… I don’t wanna wait.”

Javi mutters something under his breath, his one hand on the wheel shaking. He didn’t plan on doing this here, or even tonight. He was going to surprise you with a private dinner the other night, and tonight he only wanted to take you back to the villa just so you could stop pretending you’re just coworkers when work is already done - for the time being, anyway. He thought it would be PG at best, but… he’s not complaining. But he’s driving, and he’s thisclose to losing control. 

But on the other hand, is your exposed pussy begging for his touch. And Javi’s only a man.

So Javi decides to be a gentleman and give you what you ask for. He starts by running his hand over your mound, groaning at the smoothness. Then he moves his hand further down and spreads your wetness over his hand and yourself, fingers parting your lips along the way. You don’t dare to look down because even a mere glance of Javi’s hand working on you would make you come, you’re sure of it. 

But you do anyway, just as his finger starts to rub your clit in circular motions, making you fall back on the seat with a loud moan. He continues and puts more pressure as you squirm and writhe, restrained by the seatbelt across your torso, keening sounds filling the small space.

He wishes he could watch you. Maybe he should pull over, get you off, then drive again after you’re both satisfied? But he really doesn’t wanna do it in a car that hasn’t even been his for an hour. You deserve better, somewhere more comfortable, even when you’re so desperate now.

Luckily the GPS says they’re only 5 minutes away.

5 minutes too long.

“Javi…” your pleading moan takes him back into the situation at hand, and he gets the hint. You need more. 

So he gives you more. His middle finger prods your entrance and enters you without warning, making you bite your lip in pleasure. Your two that usually keep you busy on many lonely nights is nothing in comparison to his thick one. His knuckles on the steering wheel go white when you clench around him as he tries to find your spot without even looking in your direction. 

3 minutes.

Should he, or should he not make you come? It’s fucking hot, seeing you grip the armrest and your toes curling, hearing you loudly cry when he adds another finger, the squelch of your pussy equally as loud as your wanton moans to his ears. DRIVEDRIVEDRIVEyouresocloseDRIVEsoclose

The GPS doesn’t even get to announce your arrival before he carelessly parks the car in the driveway. His fingers leave your core to your dismay and he doesn’t give you a moment before pulling his seatbelt off and lurches on to you, grabbing your face in a passionate kiss and smearing your wetness on his fingers on your neck. 

“Javi…” you try to get a word in between kisses. “Let’s– let’sgoinsidebaby–”

Reluctantly he pulls back from you, eyes as dark as the night. With a heavy sigh, Javi exits the car and helps you out, your panties forgotten on the floor.

✧

Javi opens the front door and doesn’t even get to turn on the lights when a moaning sound from somewhere inside freezes you both.

“Óscar…?” Javi tries, as much as he knows it couldn’t be him. The moans persist and turn into groans. “Uh… stay here. Call security, please, honey.”

“NO!” 

“Dieter?!” Javi says incredulously to which the man answers with another groan. You close the door and follow Javi to the living room.

“Hey, man. Sorry to crash.”

Dieter is passed out on the couch, hair strewn in every direction, barely dressed in a pair of boxers and a wrinkled green bathroom robe. He’s holding a corked bottle of wine that threatens to slip out of his grasp that he clearly struggled to open with his bare hands before. By his feet is a spilled, empty glass of whatever he was having and an unlit joint that already burned a hole through the velvet material. It’s a shitshow.

“How did you even get in here?”

“I climbed. Your security is shit.”

“Yeah, thanks. Why are you here?”

“Why are you so pissy?”

At that moment, you come into his view and Dieter’s reddened eyes stare at you quizzically before noticing your smeared lipstick… and your see-through front that you try to cover as much as you can with your very small clutch.

And then he has the audacity to drop his gaze onto Javi’s tented lap.

“Oooooohhhhh. No fucking way. You’re so dead.”

“Hi… Dieter.” You try to meet his eyes so he wouldn’t look anywhere else, particularly your… private area.

“Holy shit. Does Óscar know?”

You glance at Javi who keeps glaring at Dieter in anger. His patience is running thin.

“Dieter. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

“I got high and Elise threw a fucking fit because I was balls de– I was with my PA. Don’t look at me all judgy like that. You’re also tapping this hot piece of a–”

“Shut up!” Javi barks. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Chill the fuck out, Javi.” Dieter rolls his eyes and gives you a salute. “Great dress… beautiful dress.”

“Stop.”

“Okay. Damn.”

“Go back to your room, Dieter.”

“Can’t. She’s in there.”

“That’s your problem.”

“You go and fuck each other’s brains out. I’ll sit here and be quiet.”

“Out, Dieter. I give you ten seconds. Ten.” Javi starts counting.

“Really?”

“I’m getting a drink.” You announce to no one. Luckily there’s a throw blanket on the nearest chair and you’re able to swiftly cover yourself in it.

Dieter gets up and stumbles right behind you to the kitchen. “Great idea!”

“Hey!” Javi’s growl echoes throughout the house and he stalks after Dieter, grabbing him by the collar of his robe. “Nine.”

“Let go of me, man.”

“I’ve had it with you, Dieter. You got arrested, you ran off set, you mess around with my crew–”

“Oh and that rule doesn’t apply to you?”

“No, it doesn’t. I make the rules.”

“Yeah? I thought Óscar does.”

“Eight, Dieter. Watch it.”

“Hey, I never asked.” Dieter smirks at you. “How old are you? Twenty?”

“Four years ago, I was.” You tell him nonchalantly at the same time that Javi says “don’t answer him.”

Dieter looks over his shoulder at Javi and barks out a mocking laugh. “You have one year to leave him for Leo. Nice.”

“That’s it, we’re done.” Javi’s grip tightens on Dieter’s robe and he starts to drag him back out. All this male posturing is really wearing you off. You can’t take this back and forth between them anymore. This was supposed to be a fun night for you. 

“I have seven more, don’t I?”

“Just… let him stay, Javi. I’m tired anyway.” You let out an exaggerated sigh and fill up another glass with water and put it on the kitchen island, motioning to Dieter that it’s for him. You bury your face in your hands, softly massaging your temples while Javi goes to stand by your side with his back facing Dieter. You reach out until you find his hand and you squeeze it softly, silently assuring him it’s not his fault.

The three of you stand around in silence while Dieter sips his water and Javi eventually stops clenching from anger. When he’s done drinking, Dieter finally looks like he knows what guilt is.

“Sorry for ruining your night.”

“Hmm.” “No shit.” You and Javi reply in unison.

“You two gonna tell Óscar about this?”

“None of your business.” Javi turns around to face him with a finality in his tone. “And whatever is going on with Elise, sort that out before we’re back to filming.”

“I don’t have any more scenes.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’ve told you I’ve taken up that other job.”

“What other job?”

“Cliff Beasts.”

You snort and raise your head. “Cliff Beasts? Really?”

He shrugs. “Money’s good.”

“Use that for rehab.” Javi snarks.

“Who else is in it?” You sincerely wonder. You were too young to watch the original in theaters when it came out, but the franchise keeps getting more and more ridiculous with each sequel. You keep up just to understand the memes, like everyone does. 

“The entire old cast is coming back. Even Carol Cobb.”

“Cool. Love her.”

“And new people your age. They keep telling me they’re from TikTok. What’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You dismiss his question. He should stay in the dark about that. The world doesn’t deserve to witness Dieter’s shenanigans on that app. 

You rinse your glass and pat Javi’s arm. “I’m going to bed.”

Javi watches you walk away and waits until you close your bedroom door before he scolds Dieter. “You saw nothing, heard nothing. No one will know about this.”

“Okay.”

“One slip up and I won’t vouch for you anymore.”

“Okay.”

“And you’ll be gone tomorrow morning before we’re up. Sort your shit out.”

“Heard you.”

Javi leaves him to go up to his room and he hears Dieter call out a thanks when he’s halfway past the stairs. He has no energy to acknowledge it.

✧

And gone before they’re up, he did. Óscar didn’t even see him when he finally got back around 7 AM and the rest of the day was spent shuffling around to pack. Javi had to arrange the shipment of the new car he acquired too. There was no time to talk about last night, or talk at all, because Javi’s private plane was already waiting on the tarmac for whenever they’re done and ready to leave. 

Óscar is passed out from hangover across from him while you occupy the front of the plane. Busy on your phone, as usual. From his position he can somewhat make out an Escher-looking game. There’s only 30 minutes left before the plane lands in London and he has about 15 before Óscar wakes up.

“So,” he moves next to your seat and speaks in a whisper. “Where are you going after we land?”

“I have to check into my hotel. Why are we whispering?”

“Do you want to just stay at mine? For the rest of the shoot?”

It’s very tempting. But logistically it’ll only call attention to you. You can’t exactly get away with staying at the producer’s house for an entire month. It’s bad enough that Ava knows and now Dieter too. “And tell my PA what?”

“That you’re renting your own place? Staying with a friend?”

“They need to know where they’re picking me up every day.”

“That’s easy. I’ll drive you.”

“Yes, that won’t be suspicious at all.”

Javi sighs in defeat. You’re right, again. Óscar stirs in his seat and Javi waits until he stills again to propose his solution. Except Óscar doesn’t and is fully awake now and asking if they’re there yet.

“I’ll text you,” he mouths.

✧✧

London, three days later 

What he proposed in the text didn’t come into fruition. He’d told you to check in, repack your necessities, and he’ll pick you up to go to his place. Only go to your hotel when you need new clothes. It’s not a bad idea, but it doesn’t matter anyway because you didn’t even get to unpack before Javi informed you that he’d be busy and couldn’t pick you up. 

So you’ve been staying in your room, alone, since you got back, flicking through the script for next week and for a new series Javi sent you this morning. “Ten episodes, HBO. Whichever role you want.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it turns out acting doesn't interest you that much and someone else would be more grateful for the opportunity. He also told you he offered Dieter the same project, who accepted it on the spot. But Dieter needs to complete Cliff Beasts first before this starts production, so you have time until then to tell Javi.

Who is now calling you. You pick up on the first ring.

“Hey, baby.” His voice sounds tired and it’s barely dark. He’s been occupied with meetings and prep, hence his absence. “Wanna go for dinner in an hour?”

“I just finished eating room service. We could go for drinks, though?”

“I don’t wanna be buzzed. I need to be up early tomorrow,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “I miss you.”

Your heart aches, knowing the effort he puts into his work and how much it means to him and Óscar. You know how badly he wants his production company to be on par with the big league studios. You know how much thought and research and passion he puts into each of his films. All of that doesn’t even count running his family business on top of everything too - the legal one, the only one that still exists. It hasn’t been the same since a new guy took over from his ex and because of that Javi has to be more hands on in every decision making, or so he told you.

“Miss you too. Where are you right now?”

“Amsterdam.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Didn’t I tell you this morning?”

Definitely no, you would’ve remembered. “No, but– why?”

“Business stuff. Anyway, I’m about to take off.”

“Okay, umm…” You try to think of an idea quickly, still dumbfounded by the new information. “Why don’t you… come over tonight?”

“I’m just gonna disappoint you, babe. I’m so tired.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t mean– we don’t have to– just have dinner here and sleep. Like, sleep sleep.”

There’s silence on the other hand as Javi thinks it over. 

“Yeah. Sure. Okay.”

Two hours later, Javi rings on your door and you open it in your underwear and a loose t-shirt that doesn’t go past your waist. The way Javi’s eyes widen is so comical that you’d laugh if he didn’t immediately slam the door to pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, his lips finding yours as he does.

“Should’ve brought you with me… missed you so much.”

You whimper as you try to pry open his buttons. 

“I really can’t, baby…” He pulls your fingers off him, kissing each one before he lets go and rolls over onto his back. 

Next thing you know you hear his soft snores. His feet dangle from the bed and he’s still very much fully clothed. 

You give him a chaste kiss and pull the blanket over your bodies and fall asleep too.

✧

You wake up to the soft buzzing of a hair dryer and a ring of the doorbell. The room is dimmed and it’s still dark outside. You get up groggily to get the door and walk past the dining table filled with freshly prepared breakfast. Neat.

There’s no one outside when you open it, but an inconspicuous brown paper bag sits on the floor with a note attached that addresses the package to a ‘Mr. José Estrada’. What…?

“That’s for me, babe.” Javi comes out of the bathroom in a towel folded up to above his stomach and his hair uncombed. It’s… adorable. You’re still not awake enough to appreciate it and merely raise your eyebrows at the name on the bag. Javi shrugs and takes the package from you. “Clothes. Just to be careful. Mornin’.”

He leans down to kiss you but you turn away, muttering about morning breath. He snickers and goes back in to change.

Javi is still in the living room having breakfast when you emerge again, freshly showered too. He’s in a pair of slacks and a white half-buttoned shirt, like he just got home from work instead of going to it. He looks too devastatingly handsome for this early. He guides you by the back of your knees to sit on his lap and you definitely, definitely wobble.

“What are you doing today?” You ask him while he peppers kisses on your neck.

“On set for half the day. Then I’m free.” He pulls back to stroke your cheek. “Stay at my place tonight? I’ll cook you dinner.”

The implication is clear in his eyes. 

✧✧

Of course you didn’t get to find out what he was going to cook for you. What is it with the universe conspiring against you having a wholesome, uninterrupted night with this man? Okay, maybe that’s why, because you’re not really aiming for wholesome. Instead of his house, you’re at Carlotta with him and a few of his celebrity friends, including Dieter and Elise. It’s been three hours and the chatter has gone cold and the wine warm.

“...maybe it’s just like a month off? I don’t know what the big deal is.”

“Apparently the other unions are considering it too.”

“What else?”

“Directors, Writers, Visual Effects, who knows what else. It’s gonna be chaotic.”

You don’t even care what’s being talked about anymore. Someone needs to get the bill before smoke comes out of your ears. You know you didn’t have to be here, of course, but you didn’t want to wait around in your room either and you were hungry. Javi had called you from set to let you know about this last minute dinner that someone arranged in the guise of business networking. Óscar still had scenes to direct and told Javi to go on his own. He knew Javi had nothing to do for the rest of the day. And Javi couldn’t exactly tell him he actually had plans with you.

You weren’t pissed initially - you were enjoying yourself, even. But the two smartly dressed thirty-something women four tables over who have been eyefucking Javi for the past half hour? The statuesque former VS model who sent him a negroni and her Ritz room key? That’s not even his drink of choice, you sneer in your head. Nice try.

You’re not jealous of them, no, Javi is going home with someone at the end of the night and it’s not with any of them. But the way he looks right now and the way that he’s wanted, turn you on so much. That pisses you off. Because this dinner couldn’t finish soon enough.

“I’m gonna drop by Loulou’s after this, you wanna come?” Elise asks next to you. “Ross is already there.”

You look over to Javi… who is signing the check, thank fucking God.

✧

Neither of you even made it to his house last night.

He’d barely parked his car, that ostentatious blue thing, in his driveway when you climbed over the console to sit on his lap.

“Thank you for dinner,” you murmured into his exquisite neck, leaving a mark with your teeth. Tacky, you knew.

“You’re the only one who’s ever said that to me,” he looked at you with a hint of wistfulness. You felt a pang in your heart at his confession.

“Of course I’m grateful, Javi.” You kissed him softly while you twisted the curls around the nape of his neck. “I’ll show you how much.”

Then his phone rang.

And it was Óscar telling Javi to go to his place for last minute rewrites, again.

So regretfully, he had to drop you at your hotel on the way. And naturally this morning you woke up really, really annoyed.

“You know what, this is ridiculous.” You call him over lunch. Room service, again.

“I agree.”

“We should clear out our schedule.”

“Let’s do that.”

“You know I mean yours, right?”

Javi sighs. “I know. I’m gonna sort that out right now. How was your sleep?”

“Eh. I’ve had better. Yours?”

“Shitty. I passed out on the floor.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. I’m getting a massage as we speak.”

“On set?”

Javi grunts and you snort in jealousy.

“Tell you what. Book a res–”

“Absolutely not. It’s never gonna happen if we go out, Javi. There’s always… something. Like… some kind of weird divine intervention.”

He giggles from the other side. Actually giggles.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious.”

Which makes him fully laugh. “I’ve cleared out my week. I’m all yours.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Daphne’s or Clos Maggiore?”

“Or.”

“Baby. Come on.”

“Let’s just… have coffee or something casual. That always works for us. Right?”

✧✧

It finally works. You spend the afternoon with him watching a movie at the Electric (and he booked out the entire place) and when you both couldn’t stop fooling around in the theater anymore, you make a run for the car. 

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours. You wanted me in your bed.”

Javi wastes no time speeding to his house. It’s not a long drive, but Javi makes the most of it. He snakes his hand up your dress and rubs your inner thigh, making sure his knuckles brush along your clit while he’s at it. It drives you crazy, and by the time you arrive at his house, you’re already a panting mess. 

He leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom, and you realize you haven’t been in it before. It’s not much of a difference from the room you’ve slept in aesthetic-wise, but it’s much bigger. Easily twice the size, plus a balcony with a small garden and a door that you assume leads to the bathroom and you don’t care what else because his lips are on yours and his hands are all over you as he walks you to the bed, pinning you down on it. 

“I had better plans than this.” He croons into your ear and sucks a spot under the lobe.

You sigh into him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Javi kisses along your jaw and lightly nips your chin. You grasp his shirt in surprise and he presses you deeper into the bed, making you even closer to him. His weight almost suffocates you, in a good way.

“You look fuckable in this, but it has to go.” He hooks a thumb under the strap of your velvet slip dress, your jacket long forgotten in the car. You nod, giving him permission, and he slips it past your shoulder, then past your tits still covered in a lacy strapless bra, then finally past your hips while he kisses the trail of exposed skin along the way. Javi groans loudly when he’s eye level with your crotch and he sees that your matching panties are soaked and that it’s a fucking thong.

“You are so pretty.” Javi kisses your mound over the material and hooks the string of your barely-there thong between his fingers, as if he’s contemplating whether he should take it off or take you in it. He grabs your thigh and slightly angles you to the side, tracing slowly to the one string swallowed between your cheeks, and his hand lands on your ass with a smack.

“Ah!” You exclaim in surprise and Javi takes the string just to snap it back on you with another light smack. 

“Fucking pretty all over.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” You say breathily.

“I know, baby.” Javi murmurs in between mouthing and biting on your thigh and kneading your ass. You’re too busy sighing out your pleasure that you don’t see his other hand about to palm your mound under your panties until you feel it. Javi takes his mouth off of you and sits back on his knees to watch you squirm under his touch.

“Javi…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I need you.”

“Hmm.” Javi continues grazing his fingers down to your lips, intentionally avoiding where you need him the most.

“Javi…” You fully lie on your back and spread your legs apart. “Take it off.”

Oh, how he’d love to. “I’m gonna take my time, honey.” Javi cups you over your panties and moves his palm up and down your pussy, spreading your wetness on yourself. “You made me wait. Now you wait.”

“Please, Javi. Touch me–”

“I am touching you.”

“I need you, please–”

“Love hearing you beg, baby.”

“Please please please–”

“Please what?”

You’re reduced to whimpering and you buck up your hips to meet his grounding palm. Your arousal is dripping even more now and it drives him crazy that you, the most beautiful woman that he’s ever laid eyes on and he’s wanted since that night in November, is on his bed. Begging for him.

Frustrated, you take the initiative to undo the front clasp of your bra. Javi stops his movements the moment he sees them and you swear his mouth drops open a little.

He’s had several ideas of what they would look like but his imagination doesn’t compare to the real thing. Yours are the perfect size for his hands and so soft under his touch. He runs his hand up between your cleavage before leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You writhe under him, arching your back as he nibbles and laps on it and kneads the other one.

“More,” you groan.

“No,” he growls against your soft flesh.

“No?”

“Be patient.” You let out a cry when he bites your underboob. “These are so pretty, baby.”

You moan and tangle your fingers in his hair until he finally takes pity on you. He kisses the valley between your breasts before capturing your lips and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Javi,” you whisper in between his hungry kisses. “I need t– I need to come.”

“Same here.”

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

You guide his hand and let it rest between your legs, grinding onto his hand again.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Just make me come, Javi. Do whatever you want with me.”

Desperation drips from your words and not only does it make him harder than before, it makes him smug too. He sits up on his knees, taking you in spread out on his bed with a hazy fucked out look on your face. And he technically hasn’t done anything yet. 

He undoes his cufflinks and pushes his sleeves up his veiny forearms. There’s something about the motion that makes him even sexier to you - and it makes you feel that way too. He pries open your thighs further and lowers his gaze down to your still covered pussy. You’ve dripped down onto his bed and he groans at the sight. He takes the strings between his fingers and slowly peels your thong off, much to your relief. He chucks it over his shoulder and drops onto his elbows. 

“You are the most fucking gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

You’re about to raise your head to see his face but before you manage to, you feel his tongue on your pussy.

“Oh, FUCK! Oh my god. Javi–” You grab a fistful of sheets under you as he slowly runs his tongue from your clit down to your entrance, and licks around your opening and tries to stick it into you. No one’s ever eaten you out like this before. It was usually one or two pathetic kitten licks before they get up and dangle their dicks in front of your face. No one is as thorough as Javi, who makes you feel his mouth and whiskers in spots of you that you didn’t know existed.

You don’t realize that you said it out loud until Javi suddenly stops and looks up at you with glistening lips… and mustache. You feel a fresh wave of wetness flooding at the sight. This is what you’ve been imagining every previous night before. 

“Seriously?”

You don’t know if he’s confused or upset by what you said. Either way, you need him to go back to what he was doing. “Yes, Javi, please don’t stop.”

“You’re telling me you don’t usually get eaten out?”

“No, uh, not like this. Never like–” Your own moans cut you off as he goes back to pleasuring you and you cry out when you feel his nose bumps your clit. You’re lost in this new feeling. It’s true. Never like this.

But with Javi? Javi is enjoying himself. He eats you out like he can’t get enough and he can’t get to all parts of you that he wants to taste. He’s slow enough for you to feel every movement his tongue is making, but he picks it up at the right pace when he feels that you need more. You feel his hand slowly squeezing your right boob, and then your eyes fly open when he suddenly puts a thick finger in you. You let out a high pitched moan and buck up to his lips.

“Fuck yeah. Be as loud as you want. You perfect little thing.” Javi shallowly thrusts it in and out of you. “Yours really didn’t fill you enough, huh?”

No. No, they didn’t. Javi’s one finger fills you so well you wonder how you’re gonna even be satisfied with yourself ever again after this. He hits the spots you never reached and makes you beg, and beg, and beg for more.

So he gives you more. He starts sucking your clit at the same time that he adds another finger into you. You don’t know what kind of noises you’re making anymore but it’s deprived enough that Javi groans into your pussy and the vibration and his hot breath make you keen even more. 

“Javi… faster, baby.”

“You’re not gonna come from my hand.” Javi says as he rolls your clit with his tongue. 

“But I’m close.” You whimper.

“I know. You’re so tight, fuck.” Javi raises his head to look at his fingers going in and out of you. They’re slick with your juices and he feels you pulsating around them whenever he drags them out, as if to keep him from not being inside you. “Think you can take my cock? Hmm?”

You gasp out a moan and he retracts his fingers completely. You’re getting too close to the edge and he doesn’t want you to come like this, no. Not by fingers or his mouth. He wants to feel you around him when you do. But that doesn’t stop him from tonguing you again and massaging your clit with his thumb until you’re panting and tugging hard on his hair that it hurts. Before you could go over the edge, he climbs over you and cages you in his arms, his mouth once again on your tits and smearing them with your wetness from his lips.

“Javi,” you grab his face in your hands and stroke his patchy, graying beard. “Please.”

You claw at his shirt, trying to open his buttons with trembling hands. He’s still fully clothed and it’s not fair. You manage to get the top two but then he untangles himself from you to stand at the foot of the bed… to rummage through his drawers.

“Fuck, uh… um… fuck.” Javi reaches into another one, turning it inside out, and starts rifling through a spare wallet he finds inside. “I don’t have condoms. Wait here. I might have some downstairs.”

You crawl over to him and stand on your knees, continuing to open his buttons. “I’m on birth control, Javi. And I haven’t been with anyone, so…”

Javi looks at you with his doe eyes, filled with lust, while you shrug his shirt off him. Are you saying…?

“I want you bare.”

Well, fuck me. If Javi weren’t already hard as rock before, then he doesn’t know what this is now. He’s never been bare with anyone since… who cares. It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except you asking him to fuck you raw and now you’re palming him over his pants and literally, the world could be burning at this moment and Javi wouldn’t give a shit about it. 

“Want you in my mouth, daddy.”

“No,” Javi groans painfully. There is no way he’s surviving tonight. “I’ll come on your face if you do that now.”

“Want that too.” You pepper him with kisses across his chest while you undo his belt and unzip his trousers. When you finally lower his pants along with his boxer briefs, your mouth waters. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be when you grabbed him in his car last week. You need him in you, right fucking now.

But first thing first… he’s gonna pay for not making you come. You’ve been so desperate since the theater and by the looks of it, he’s no different. The head of his cock is an angry red and leaking with precum. You swipe it clean with your tongue and Javi’s hand immediately finds the back of your neck. You take his hard erection in your hand and start to jerk him off slowly, building a pace that you know will drive him mad. Javi has his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed deep, holding back from thrusting into your hand. 

You lick a long stripe from his balls to his tip and elicit a low moan from him. It’s addicting, listening to him. You do it a few more times until you feel his fingers curling on you. 

“Javi…” You let go of him and kiss your way up his stomach instead. He involuntarily sucks in and opens his eyes to you slipping his cock past your lips. He doesn’t stop you. The groan that comes out of him is so sinful it’s going to be permanently etched in your brain. His hand on your neck finds your ass and kneads it when you start working him slowly with your mouth. You gag a little when he hits the back of your throat. He’s a lot to take in; you don’t even get to the hilt, and you count your blessings for that.

You’re suddenly pulled away with a pop. He’s throbbing and from his breathing, he doesn’t look like he’s going to last long.

“You’re so big, Javi. Does it feel as good as it tastes?”

You start to take him into your mouth again but he grabs your arm to haul you to the center of the bed. He settles himself on you, rubbing up and down your opening with his cock. You start to meet his movement but he pins your hips down, restricting you.

“Come on, we’ve waited long enough,” you whine.

He lets his weight fall on you completely and hums his answer with his face pressed against the crook of your neck. He keeps thrusting on your pussy and you’re so, so, so close to sobbing from need.

“Javi,” you whine again into his ear, arms clinging to his broad form.

Javi sits on his knees, watching you writhe underneath him. If he doesn’t come within one minute of being inside you, he’ll consider it a miracle. It’s his own fault for dragging it out this long and now he’s the one moments away from exploding. It’s worth it because you’re so fucking beautiful being all needy for him. 

He grabs you closer by your calves and wraps your legs around his waist, cock notched right at your entrance. Javi pushes forward and the sound he makes when he enters you is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. He works his way in slowly, letting you accommodate his girth. It’s a painful yet exquisite stretch.

You’ve never felt this full in your life. You’re not without experience, but the way Javi is filling you is something else. It’s not just his size, although that is a big part of it. It’s the way he’s gazing at you with so much tenderness. The way he’s moving as if he’s worshiping you with every stroke. The way he’s savoring this moment that you two have been waiting a ridiculously long time for. Your heart is full of–

“Baby. I don’t think I’ll last long.” Javi says with a strain in his voice. He’s holding back, with this languid (honestly, lazy) pace and he’s clenching his hands so hard you can see the veins in his forearms protruding. 

“I don’t care, Javi, just fuck me.”

He groans and starts to build a pace, gripping your thighs open. You throw your head back and hold on to the pillow closest to you. Javi’s eyes are glued to your tits bouncing by the impact of his thrusts and he tries to think of something, anything, except for the way your perfect body is responding to him right now. 

He remembers what you said about being essentially celibate since your last relationship and he doesn’t fight his curiosity. There’s a primal side of him that needs to know and the thought of your pathetic past conquests should buy him a couple more minutes, right?

“How long has it been for you, honey?”

“Mmmmm…” You roll your head back in pleasure, seemingly not hearing his question.

”When I ask something, I want an answer, sweetheart.”

“Two years? Mor–”

“Fucking unbelievable. This pussy should be fucked everyday, fuck.”

He curses between hard thrusts. Your mouth drops at his dirty talk and his pace increases to full on pounding. It doesn’t work. The thought of nothing having been inside you except for your own fingers and now him for that long is awakening something feral in him. 

You yelp. “Oh fuck yes, Javi…”

“Yeah? You’re gonna let me fuck this everyday?”

“Whenever you want. Please.”

“You’re so needy.” He looks down to where you’re joined before grabbing your ass and driving into you even harder. “So needy and sloppy and so. fucking. tight.”

The moan you let out is downright the filthiest thing he’s ever heard. And you? You barely hear his deep, delicious voice over your own moans and the sounds your bodies make. You can’t do anything but take, take, and take. You wish you could reciprocate but what leaves your mouth is only a blabber of cries and whines.

“You want to come?” Javi’s question snaps you out of your daze.

“Please, baby.”

“Then touch yourself and come.”

Javi pulls out of you and you gasp from the sudden emptiness. You sit up to reach for him but he moves further to the edge of the bed, his hand fisting his cock and pinching the end slowly, trying not to lose it.

“Javi, what the fuck?” You exclaim in despair.

“Let me see you touch yourself, babe. Come like that or not at all.”

“Oh my God, Javi.” You fall back on the bed in frustration. There is no way this is happening. “No…”

“Come, and I’ll fuck you again.”

You start reluctantly touching yourself slowly, hoping he’ll take pity on you and take over again. But he stays where he is, looking at your face, not even your body.

“If that’s how you touch yourself, no wonder you’re unsatisfied. Come on, make yourself feel good.”

You groan in defeat and he chuckles at you amusingly. Fine. You dip two fingers into your pussy and start moving them the way you usually do, and your other hand drops to your clit to rub it with your index finger. Your peak is approaching in no time, between your own familiar movements and watching Javi watching you. You start to arch off the bed when you’re close and suddenly your hands are taken off you and you’re flipped onto your hands and knees. 

Javi thrusts back inside you from behind without warning and resumes pounding you in earnest. “That’s right baby, take it… like you wanted… so fucking good for me…”

You come with a silent scream and Javi lets out a pained moan from you fluttering and spasming around his cock. His hands grip your waist to the point of almost hurting and he keeps steadily thrusting into you to seek his own release while you ride yours out.

He pulls you up against his chest by wrapping his arm around your tits and keeps hitting that devastatingly delicious spot inside you. With a few thrusts it starts you up again and you grind back on him, feeling the bump of his stomach on the small of your back with each contact. You look over your shoulder at his face and see that he’s in absolute bliss, but there’s something else there that’s a little bit… off. You don’t get to think too much about it once his fingers reach down to your clit and you start to tighten around his cock again, your hand reaching back to grab at his curls. 

“I’m coming, sweetheart. Fuck. Come with me. Come with me, honey.” Javi’s pace grows desperate and he’s so deep, so right inside you that you beat him to it. You shudder in his arms, going limp, but he doesn’t let up. “Tell me where.”

You sigh dreamily while you catch your breath. “Anywhere you want, daddy.” 

He pulls out and pushes you lightly to get back on your hands and knees and spills himself on the small of your back and between your cheeks. You lay down flat on your stomach, evening out your breaths, inhaling in the mixed scent of the two of you. 

It takes Javi a couple of minutes to collect himself before he kisses along your shoulder, up to your neck, your jaw, and finally your lips.

“You’re so fucking good, babe. Tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You giggle tiredly and lean onto him, welcoming his kisses while he cleans you up with his discarded shirt. “I need a drink. Then I want to ride you.”

✧

For the next four days, you barely leave the bed except to eat or use the bathroom. Just like Javi had promised. He didn’t get to cook dinner for you yet, because it’ll take too much time away from being inside of you. Everyday it’s like clockwork: one of you wakes the other up with your mouth, followed by breakfast in bed, or vice versa. Then shower, where he eats you out - he insists that he’s making up for your lost time. In the afternoons, Javi does some work while you read scripts or his books or nap. Then dinner, followed by fucking each other to sleep. Sometimes you interrupt him mid-task or wake him up in the middle of the night just because. And repeat.

It’s pure fucking bliss.

✧✧

“Javi. Fuck.”

“What’s up?”

“Everything is shutting down. Everything. Where the fuck are you?” Óscar’s voice sounds panicked through the phone. 

“I’m on leave, remember? What do you mean?”

“Strike, Javi. It’s all over the news. We gotta reschedule everything. We’re not even allowed to do anything.”

Javi swiftly opens his news app and sure enough, Óscar’s right. How did he miss this? Oh, right.

“Javi!!!”

“I’m here.”

“What do we do?”

Javi thinks for a moment but absolutely nothing comes to mind. This is completely novel for him. “We’ll figure it out. How long is this supposed to go on?”

“Two weeks. A month tops.”

“So there’s nothing to do. Keep everyone around, keep everyone updated, the usual.”

“We can’t, Javi. We’re not allowed to. We should just let them go for now, go see their families. They can’t be employed right now, same for us, by the way.”

“Dammit,” Javi runs a hand over his face. He’s only ever shut down production once, during The Last Sicario, when a rival family member felt misrepresented by his depiction of them and sent death threats to him and the crew. “Call it. Keep me posted.”

“Sure. One more thing, have you heard from our little starlet? I tried calling her all day, and her PA couldn’t reach her either. Her hotel said she’s not there.”

“Staying with a friend, maybe?” Javi feigns cluelessness.

“Can you try her? Let her know we’ll help her figure it out while this is going on.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thanks, hermano.”

Guilt overcomes him once he hangs up and looks at you sleeping soundly, and naked, next to him. He’s betraying the closest friend he ever had and there would be no coming back from this if he found out. 

✧✧✧

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[sam-glade]

Ctrl+F'ing the Document

Part 2/3 of my editing process. Part 1 link.

This is what I do to a novel or a novella before showing it to anyone (including beta readers). I’m posting it in hopes that it will help someone, and I’m not expecting it to work for everyone. Take any parts that help you!

The goal of this step is to reduce word count by removing redundant and filtering words, and make the text more crisp and direct.

Two things up front:

‘Imperfect’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’. Good writing can have imperfections.

The goal is to get the manuscript to a stage where the imperfections won’t be distracting to beta readers.

Remove filtering and padding words

(With examples from my current editing pass of Gifts of Fate)

Search the manuscript – literally, with ctrl+F – for the following words. Try to remove especially those outside of dialogue. I allow more padding in dialogue to help differentiate character voices. 

Most of these words can be removed within the context of the single sentence, maybe with a glance at the previous or the next one, for repetitions.

Suddenly – can be removed in 99% of the cases. In 109k words of GoF, I’m left with 5 occurrences, 3 of which are in dialogue. E.g. ‘He laughed suddenly.’ → ‘He burst out laughing.’

Then – as above. E.g. ‘He blushed then and looked to the side.’ → straight up remove ‘then’. What do you add to the sentence, little word?

‘In order to’ – can almost always be replaced with just ‘to’, but see a note below on using ‘to’ to indicate intent.

‘At that’, ‘at him’ in phrases like ‘was surprised by that’, ‘smiled at him’. E.g. ‘Ianim smiled at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.’ → Just remove ‘at him’ 

Something – can usually be replaced with 1-2 more specific words, which will pack a sentence with more information. E.g. ‘It was something he could trust, and so he did.’ → ‘It was an instinct he could trust, and so he did.’

And on that note…

Turn intent into action

Don’t tell me what the character’s immediate plan is; show them doing it. This makes the action more direct, since we spend less time in the character’s head, and more watching the events unfold.

The first words to search for here are: could, would, should.

E.g. second pass of the last example: ‘It was an instinct he could trust, and so he did.’ → ‘It was an instinct he trusted.’

E.g. 'He could understand where they were coming from' → 'He understood where…'

I’m not that aggressive with removing the latter two.

Similarly ‘to’. Searching for it with ctrl+F produces a lot of false positives, but the instances I’m looking for are ‘they did X in order to do Y’.

E.g. ‘She slowly reached out her hand to touch the blade.’ → ‘She reached out slowly and touched the blade with a shaking hand.’

E.g. ‘The animals began to scuttle away.’ → ‘The animals scuttled away.’

E.g. ‘He sat straddling the bench to look directly at Lissan.’ → ‘... and looked …’

Yes, the meaning changes a tiny bit, but is the distinction crucial? In my case, the answer is almost always: it’s not.

Other padding words, often included in writing advice, are ‘that’, ‘almost’, ‘still, ‘quite’, and ‘very’, and again, they can be either removed or replaced with a stronger/weaker word.

E.g. ‘The wall to the right was almost entirely covered by a detailed map of the Five Princedoms.’ → ‘The wall to the right was covered by a detailed map of the Five Princedoms.’

E.g. ‘It even glowed very faintly in the dark.’ → just remove ‘very’.

Filtering words

Heard, smelled, felt, saw – they’re the filtering words, ok, but what does that mean? They distance the reader from the events, like observing them through a window. They also shift the focus from the events, onto the characters – so yes, I’d leave the words in when I want to stress that the character managed to see/hear something, despite it pushing the limits on their senses, but in most cases, they can go.

Each one of them is a little different, and I’ll order them from the most straightforward to most nuanced.

‘Heard’ is probably the easiest, and the only times I’d leave it in is when someone is eavesdropping (with description of how clearly they can hear a conversation) or to highlight that someone has exceptional hearing (with a note on the distance). Other than that, remove. E.g. ‘He heard his own voice falter.’ → ‘His voice faltered.’

‘Smelled’ – I try to remove it in sentences of the form ‘they smelled apple pies’, not ‘the apple pies smelled delicious.’ I’m also less aggressive about this one, and again leave it when it highlights someone’s super-senses. And! I never remove it at the cost of not describing a smell – include all senses. E.g. ‘Lissan smelled a rejuvenating, not quite minty aroma.’ → ‘A rejuvenating, not quite minty aroma drifted towards Lissan.’

‘Felt’ – there are at least two reasons why I’d want to remove it. First is that it’s telling emotions, in sentences like ‘He felt embarrassed.’ and I’ll get to these in the next part. The second thing is strictly filtering, describing what a character noticed about the environment. E.g. ‘It was black and it felt oily.’ → ‘It was black and oily, leaving unpleasant smudges on his fingers.’ E.g. ‘He felt a gust of wind at the back of his head.’ → ‘A gust of wind ruffled the hair at the back of his head.’

‘Saw’ – again, there are two ways in which I see this word pop up in my draft, which I want to cut down on. One is describing the action of watching, noticing, or spotting, and in most cases it can be replaced with a more specific word, like the ones above. E.g. ‘She’d seen Barran sew a cut like this once.’ → ‘She’d watched Barran…’ The other way it comes up is the typical filtering: E.g. ‘He saw Lissan tense up.’ → ‘Lissan tensed up.’

One exception to this rule is when removing them makes you ask how the POV character saw it, e.g. when they’re facing a different direction. E.g. ‘They saw a glint of steel out of the corner of their eye. They pivoted on their heel and raised their Sabre to meet the falling blade.’ → leave as is. Note to self: ‘Out of a corner of their eye’ is not a get out of jail free card for using ‘saw’. I definitely use it too often.

Oof that’s all I the words I ctrl+F for…

As I write more, I start forming sentences without these words by habit, and I find fewer and fewer ctrl+f’able words to remove.

Part 3 to come soon.

Requested tag: @galactic-mystics-writes

[vyva-melinkolya]

hi im fucking obsessed with orbweaving and your other album & EP.

im so curious about your creative process- is there anything you can share about how u go about songwriting, finding your style, collaborating vs working independently? do u produce any of your own stuff? sorry too many questions ok ily bye

Hi thank you sm for listening 🥹

1. As far as songwriting goes, I can go a few ways. The thing that happens most often is phrases or lines or choruses, etc. come to me independently, randomly throughout the day. I write them down all in one place. Later on, this could be days after, or a year after, I take all of the phrases and lines that work well, with each other, thematically and string them all together into a song. Kind of like picking berries from a bunch of different plants, and then afterwards, putting all of the different berries in their own buckets. Does that make sense? Sometimes I can write a song in one day, sometimes it takes me two years to write a song. Regardless, whether not, I have actual lyrics or something, I tend to think of concepts for songs way before anything is on paper, when I’m developing an album, especially. Like, I know that X album is going to have a song about XY and Zand I keep that in mind when things come to me.

Finding my style has been predicated on years and years of obsessive listening. Music, particularly the kind of music I listen to, is my autism special interest. I tend to have two different kinds of influences, textural influences: Slowdive, my bloody valentine, Godspeed You black Emperor, grouper, duster. And then I also have a influences that “teach”me more about lyrics and general songwriting. Carissas’s Wierd, Giles, Corey, Lisa Germano, Songs Ohia/ Jason Molina, Low. Some of these artists can fit into both camps. It sounds really cliché, but I tend to think of the artists that help me develop my sound less as influencers and more as “teachers”,as much as listening to bands and artists I love is just a part of daily life, catharsis, and such, I am also learning, even if it doesn’t feel like it. As far as finding my style goes, Knowing what to do with everything I’ve learned, it’s been a lot of years of sitting up in my room and fucking around on my guitar. Knowing what sounds good, doing what doesn’t work well. I don’t consider myself a technically proficient guitarist, but I consider myself very emotionally proficient. When it comes to instrumentals, I’d much rather engender feelings of loss or heartbreak or nostalgia or devotion, rather than composing something “impressive”. Though the common denominator in all the music I’ve made is an ethereal type of sound, it continues to evolve. The self titled, and the violet EP were very classic shoegaze, the releases, before that, many of which I’ve taken off the Internet, are much more arcane, sometimes “folky” form of that. The material for Orbweaving, and the material for the solo LP I’m releasing this year still have moments of a heavy layers and lots of ambience— but there’s also some more sparse moments, more of a “slowcore” kind of deal. I really want to move towards having my vocals more so front and center, as I become more confident in both my singing, and my songwriting.  I was born into a family where everyone was naturally impressive singers, and it just so happened that I was the only one that wasn’t, so a lot of my older music was subconsciously, built around, hiding my voice. As I continue to develop it, it feels good that I can remove a veil of two if that makes sense.

Working with others, is relatively new to me, when I was in high school and college, I never really joined anyone else’s band (aside from an industrial band I was in for about a month) and though I had a live band playing for me much of the time, all of the compositions we’re done by me. I honestly used to tell people that Vyva was “a band” because it seems like people respected me a little bit more versus if I promoted it as a solo project. I was a band Kind of a control freak and that way, so working with Madeline opened up my mind a lot.  I’m much more in love with the idea of collaboration now. Since working with her in summer of 2021, i have done live guitars for a couple SRSQ tours, and have been working on some of the guitars for Ethel Cain’s records—so working on Orbweaving opened up a lot for me mentally. For me, collaboration is a lot about relinquishing, having faith in the other person or other people you’re working with. It can be really hard, but I’m glad I’ve started moving towards that because it feels wonderful.

Everything up until “Orbweaving” I produced at home, the only thing I needed someone else’s help with was mastering. Me and Madeline did a lot of mixing together when I was in New Mexico, but in the following year, she finalized all of the mixes on her own. The upcoming solo LP, l enlisted the help of a producer to record me in a studio and mix the record. Also to record drums (the instrument I feel the least confident with, used to do all of it digitally) and some of the bass. The process, pandemic obstacles included, took about two years. I’m only just getting it remastered, because I wasn’t happy with the first round. Some of the guitars I recorded on my own at home, and there are three features on the record (teehee) that for recorded by the vocalists at their respective houses and places of living. In general, though, very much my first foray into having someone else take the reins on my own record. For the next album, which, because the solo LP has taken so long, I have almost completely written, I want to do a mix of a studio work with a producer, but also try to get as much recording done at home as I can. I have a lot to relearn when it comes to mixing my own music.

[eliteprepsat]

Don’t procrastinate (it only makes things worse). Eat well. Exercise regularly. Get a good night’s sleep. 

All of these are vital—and common—pieces of advice that will help you manage all forms of stress, academic and otherwise.

As anyone who has struggled with academic stress likely knows, each of these points is easier said than done. What I think is often missing from such advice is an account of the mental and emotional hurdles that can get in the way of effective time and health management. 

Maybe you struggle with anxiety or depression, or maybe you have family or other health issues that make sleep or exercise really difficult to come by. Stress is often a symptom of circumstances that need their own forms of management.

But stress is also often a learned pattern of thinking, one that we need to unlearn if we’re going to get things done.

YOU’RE PROBABLY WRONG

“You cannot get stressed out unless you believe your thoughts,” explains Susan Stiffelman, a licensed psychotherapist and author of Parenting Without Power Struggles. “All stress is precipitated by stressful thinking.”

Often, we convince ourselves that the tasks ahead of us are more difficult than they need to be. If you’re a perfectionist especially, you probably impose impossibly high standards on yourself and your work that may engender procrastination. 

After all, why spend the next 30 minutes trying to produce absolutely perfect work when you can just let your mind wander on Snapchat?

When Stiffelman warns against believing your own thoughts, she is suggesting that we question our assessments of what we have in front of us. Next time you’re stressed out over an exam, a paper, or college applications, try listing reasons why your assessment of the situation might be incorrect.

Do you have a record of academic success? Have you succeeded in the past on projects that you found daunting? If the answer to either of these is “yes,” then there’s a good chance you’ve misread your current situation. 

Sometimes, there’s freedom in getting things wrong.

BREAK IT DOWN

But even if you are correct, and if what lies ahead is very difficult work, pausing to consider why a given project is difficult—and writing out the reasons—often reveals a range of sub-tasks that are far less difficult than the project as a whole.

This is why Stiffelman also advises breaking tasks down into small chunks.

In my own experience, to-do lists are lifesavers. List out the tasks ahead and break these down into the smallest possible tasks.

One student of mine wrote out everything she needed to do on sticky notes and then threw the notes away as she completed each task. But if you want to avoid wasting paper—and I think you should—an app like Todoist is just as good for laying out a roadmap and for checking off items as you go.

��️ TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Let’s say you need to write an important paper for an English class. Your to-do list might look something like this:

Read the assignment [Monday]

Decide which text(s) I’m going to focus on [Monday]

Read my notes on that text [Tuesday]

Find 3-4 quotations from the text that seem relevant [Tuesday]

Draft a thesis [Tuesday] 

See if the thesis goes well with the quotations I’ve chosen [Tuesday]

If not, find other quotations or revise the thesis

Draft an introduction [Wednesday] 

Draft the first body paragraph [Wednesday] 

Draft the second body paragraph [Thursday]

Draft the third body paragraph [Thursday]

Draft the fourth body paragraph [Thursday] 

Draft the conclusion [Thursday]

Review my topic sentences [Friday]

Review my transitions [Friday]

Read the entire draft [Friday]

Check that the body paragraphs correspond with the thesis

Check that the body paragraphs proceed in a logical order

Make necessary revisions [Saturday]

Proofread the essay [Saturday]

Writing an entire paper can seem daunting, but reading the assignment is easy. Deciding which text to focus on isn’t too hard, either. Even drafting a thesis isn’t all that bad. Taken together, writing an entire paper might seem like a difficult task. But, when broken into small chunks, the job is much simpler than it seems.

Notice that I’ve given each task a day of the week. It’s important to recognize that your time is limited. If you give yourself a rough timeline, you can kind of mechanize the process a bit and give yourself peace of mind that you’re on track. Remember to stay flexible—adjust as you go, when needed, since some tasks might be more difficult than you first anticipated.

🍫 TREAT YOURSELF TO TRAIN YOURSELF

Keep yourself motivated by giving yourself a reward for each task or pair of tasks that you knock off your to-do list. 

You’re always practicing, always training yourself. You’re not all that different from a dog who learns how to do tricks. Just like a poodle, you need positive reinforcement to train your mind and body that getting things done is good.

If you practice being anxious with a stomach ache while writing, you’ll get really good at being anxious with a stomach ache while writing. But if you practice breaking writing down into small sub-tasks and rewarding yourself—with dessert or a video game or something else you love—you’ll learn to associate getting things done with feeling good.

In sum: change your thinking, make to-do lists, chart out a rough schedule, and reward yourself along the way. 

But of course, remember to avoid procrastinating, eat well, exercise regularly, and get a good night’s sleep. Those truisms are true, after all.

[olderthannetfic]

I won’t say I’ve never looked at a film a second time to analyze some of the filmmaking techniques, but I tend to only do this if I’m pulling something apart, and that’s less common for me in most writing.

I think some people who reread do so to get the same emotions they got the first time, or close to them, but that isn’t how I react. For most works, I only have those emotions the first time. The memory of the emotions I get from reading fic or talking about canon is nice, but I’m not going to get that from a reread/rewatch.

Part of it is that I have a very good memory for sentence level phrasing (and for shots in film for that matter). It’s not just the events I remember but the nitty gritty of the art, and the second time, I’m paying too much attention to it. I think this would likely be different if I read more literary things more often, but so much of what I read has very clean, basic prose designed to convey genre plot. It’s worth breaking apart very, very technically to figure out how to replicate it. It’s not worth savoring the words multiple times at this intermediate level between a fast first read and a technical diagramming.

I can revisit things if it has been like 20 years or if I binged a ton close together and don’t remember it well (but even then, I usually get bored in the middle once I start remembering it too clearly). I might reread or rewatch a small passage in some things for some scene that does give me an emotional hit on reread, but going back through the whole thing produces the opposite of the desired effect.

It’s not about spoilers for the plot.

[rotationalsymmetry]

I’m thinking about a thing from the Vagina Monologues — not the “equating womanhood with specific private parts” thing, although I do want to nod to that as an issue — and I’m worried I won’t have the words to express it right and it’ll come across as something else.

I think I’ve had two Vagina Monologues experiences, one was not a polished thing and was just “let’s go around in a circle reading these parts”, and one was much bigger deal, on a stage with an audience. That second one was put on by college students and I attended the production but was not a student at the college at the time.

I thought there was a very jarring tone shift between the stories about people whose social locations were presumably closer to the writer and the performers, and two other ones, “My Vagina Was My Village” and one other, don’t remember. I do kinda think the Monologues would have been better without that. And I am worried that that will come across as meaning something I don’t.

I don’t mean that I think it’s inappropriate to address severe trauma in this sort of thing. I didn’t have this reaction to a play about a highly traumatizing kidnapping I watched a little while ago, or to a performer talking about the time she was sexually assaulted and the aftermath of that (that was just very well done), or to Allegiance, the musical about the Japanese internment camps. But I think the last one points at the difference: the way people talk about trauma to people they see as like them is different from the way people talk about trauma yo people they see as unlike them. When people dramatize their own trauma, they go out of their way to fully humanize the characters, to show them as having interesting stories before the trauma and as being resilient during and after, even when there’s also profound misery. When people dramatize the trauma of the other, often they only depict trauma, the characters become a way to personify trauma itself, and nothing else. Which is as objectifying as, for instance, writing a character who personifies sex appeal and has nothing else to her character, or a male writer having a female character die with the focus being on how that affects a male character’s arc.

I also don’t mean that privileged first-worlders shouldn’t think about the rest of the world, or that people can’t write about the suffering of people unlike them. Just that if it’s not done carefully, writing about other people’s trauma can be objectifying and even exploitative, and for people interested in this sort of story it’s worth considering who is doing the writing, the producing, the performing, and are the people who pay money for this sort of thing more inclined to accept it through a nice white/American/etc person’s lens than from someone who is talking about their own people?

There is also, I think, narrowing one’s focus is not bad, when it means you’re covering fewer things better. A character who is white and privileged talking about feeling disconnected from her own private parts and her own sexuality is not actually less worthy of focus or less powerful than talking about something that would be objectively worse to live through, but which you also don’t give enough time and centrality to show as a story that allows for healing and recovery or at least hope, or perhaps as a tragedy where people see the positive thing that was lost, and not just suffering piled upon suffering. Nobody wants to see themselves depicted at the worst moments of their lives. People like to see themselves as strong, creative, connecting, happy, proud. Not as weak, devastated, humiliated, and in pain — when they want to share their pain, they want to share it on their own terms, with them as the hero of their own story, not as a victim. People remember that when telling their own story or that of someone like them.

I used to have a printed out photo on my wall to remind me of the way immigrants are treated in this country. It was a photo of a young child on the other side of a chain link fence, in a detainment camp. But after a while it occurred to me the way I was viscerally disgusted by the image was not necessarily conducive either to motivation to action or to compassionate witnessing. And that kid is going to grow up some day, and what’s he going to think of people looking at that photo? I swapped it out for an artist’s rendition of a different scene, one that still implied the unnecessary and unjust suffering of immigrants to the US but with dignity and with respecting the personhood of the people depicted. One that was something I imagine I’d still want to see if that was family or a good friend, you know? When I remember my friend who died of cancer, I don’t look at a picture of them sick in a hospital bed. I look at a picture of them as they lived. That is how you show respect for a person.

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2022!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

___

205. The Wall of Winnipeg & Me by Mariana Zapata--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Re-read in July 2022. It's a tradition now. This is one of my all-time favourite books. The fact that my blurb is now also on the Indigo edition (I am an employee) just cements how much I love this book. How interesting is it how opinions change over the years? When I first read this book, I wasn't that impressed. I read it on vacation and remember thinking that the pacing was off. But the second time I read it, I grew to appreciate the story more. Then after reading it again this week, I was again reminded of how much I love this book. The craving to read it is just something that will forever linger with me. I love this author and her ability to make me jello for her characters. Aiden. Oh sweet, sweet Aiden. One of my fictional crushes. Sigh. Anyway, if you love slow burn romances, fake dating/marriage, enemies to friends to lovers, sport romance, and big broody silent and grumpy love interests, then you're going to love this one! ___

206. Hands Down by Mariana Zapata--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

While this wasn't as good as its predecessor, I really enjoyed this story! One of the things I love about this author is how she manages to write these addicting stories that are relatively drama-free. They're just a good time full of angst and really cute moments. I definitely see myself re-reading this in the future. Zac is such a sweetheart and although he isn't the smartest, he truly tries to love with all of his heart. I'm really happy he got his own story, especially because he was such a big personality in WoWaM! And of course, I loved seeing the cameos (like always!) These cameos also reminded me that I have more books by this author to read in the future. The few things that are stopping me from giving this five stars are the nicknames used here. They made me slightly uncomfortable because we all know that these two characters get a HEA. Maybe a re-read in the future will have me cringing less, but for now, that was definitely a miss for this book.

___

207. Blindsided by Amy Daws--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have had BLINDSIDED on my TBR for a while now and I finally decided to give the audiobook a listen. Imagine my surprise when the male love interest had a Scottish accent. SWOON. Once I got over the shook and excitement of that, I found myself really falling into this story. I loved their chemistry and the bickering because I find that the passion behind healthy bickering can really produce some amazing chemistry between characters. One of the uncomfortable moments for me that made me have a bittersweet and deeper love for this story was how self-deprecating the female MC (Cookie) was when it came to her weight and body shape. She was constantly on the defensive and ready with a fat-shaming joke aimed at herself. Her comparison to others and that "Little c*nt of an inner voice" often left her feeling less than stellar. Even her commentary on how she has accepted that she's destined to be alone and that she never thought of her male best friend in a certain way because guys like him don't look at girls like her. All of that resonated so heavily with me that at first, I would roll my eyes. I would get SO annoyed because of her actions and her words. But then I realized, "Holy crap, I do this." And I do. I do it to myself all of the time when I'm with friends, or when someone compliments me because, seriously, "You're complimenting me? Are you sure?" And it made me think that if I found it annoying for her to do to herself, imagine how frustrating it must be for those who love me to hear me talking about myself like that. It was very eye-opening. This book even made me cry. I cried for Cookie when her heart was broken and I cried for her when she felt that her insecurities were realized. In a way, it felt like I was crying for myself. I'm glad I finally picked this up because not only was the trope of best friends to lovers such a wholly enjoyable experience, but seeing myself in Cookie was something completely unexpected. ALSO, hello spicy spice. This book was HOT. And I absolutely adored the curvy fat girl representation!! I know most of us deal with those physical worries when things get spicy, or have the potential for spiciness. I really loved how real that felt! Read this if you want a character who felt more real, a male love interest who was imperfect but had a big heart, and if you love a good dose of humour and heartfelt moments along with your smutty smut.

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208. Beauty & the Baller by Ilsa Madden-Mills--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I was really surprised by this book! I honestly thought this was going to be a cheesy sports romance (especially with a cover like that), but I hadn’t expected it to have a grief subplot (no-reading the synopsis fan club). I loved the idea that these two found each other after such a disastrous night (one of my favourite tropes) and that he essentially had to prove himself to her. I also loved the fake dating and the fact that it was all to make someone else jealous and sad about what they lost. Also, the spice was spicyyyyy. Don’t sleep on books with covers like these. They might surprise you!

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209. Fallen Too Far by Abbi Glines--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Re-read July 2022 Every once in a while I crave this series and although it’s hella cringe and super cheese fest, I can’t seem to stop wanting to read it. Like always, this was fun and I loved every cringey moment. I don’t have much else to say other than I will probably read this again in a couple of years!

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210. Never Too Far by Abbi Glines--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Re-read July 2022 This sequel was just as messy as I remembered it being. There’s a particular scene where he is exceptionally assholish and I just…I love the drama of it and love feeling that pang of sadness for her because he is just something else LOL Anyway, glad I got to experience this again!

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Have you read any of these? Would you recommend them?

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Happy reading!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

NEWS FROM HACKER NEWS

When I was running a startup, and I'll be rich. Make Web sites for art galleries.1 It's probably no coincidence that so many news articles are online, I probably read two or three new startups. That kind of change, from 2 paths to 3, is the sort of big social shift that only happens once every few generations. If you want to do.2 They do it because they feel they need to do is start a startup, VCs might try to strip you of your stock when they arrived later. The conversation will turn immediately to other topics.

Live by the channel, die by the channel: if you depend on an oligopoly, you sink into bad habits that are hard to understand, people who want a deep understanding of what you're doing in a startup is that there will be more of them to recognize and attract. The cheery, bland language of the people with bad intentions look bad by comparison. Curiously, however, the works they produced continued to attract new readers. Often the founders themselves hadn't seen yet. But for any given idea, the payoff for acting fast in a bad economy.3 To make something good, even for idiots. The same is true in the arts could tell you that you might want different mediums for the two situations. It has an English cousin, travail, and what it means is torture. I'm not a very good speaker. Probably not.

Why did no one propose a new scheme for micropayments? If you write in an unclear way about big ideas, you produce something that seems tantalizingly attractive to inexperienced but intellectually ambitious students.4 I'm sure there are far more striking examples out there than this clump of five stories. But he turned out to be widely applicable. If you make a novel that bores everyone, or a chair that's horribly uncomfortable to sit in their offices and let PR firms bring the stories to them.5 Imagine waking up after such an operation. I think it will be. It's hard to predict how big a deal as the Industrial Revolution? They usually feed the same story to several different publications at once.6

But I don't wish I were a better speaker than me, but a hopelessly inflexible one for developing new ideas. It lets you take advantage of new insights you have along the way. Per capita, large organizations accomplish very little. The situation pushed buttons I'd forgotten I had. That may not seem surprising. This is also true of starting a startup in the old days was a pretty effective filter. One reason the young sometimes succeed where the old fail is that they make two mistakes that cancel each other out.7 Like open source, blogging is something people do themselves, for free, but before the Web it was harder to reach an audience or collaborate on projects. It could be simply that many famous scientists worked when collaboration was less common. A name only has one point of attachment into your head. Although the finiteness of the number of temptations around you.8 Now almost every drawing teacher will tell you that you might want different mediums for the two situations.9

7 billion. The simplest form of determination is sheer willfulness. It felt like releasing software without testing it. When I worked in fast food, we didn't prefer the busy times. Popularity is always self-perpetuating, but it's woven into the story instead of being pasted onto it like a label.10 A big company is more deliberate.11 It's a lot harder on stuff they like.12 One of the most powerful of those was the existence of the PR industry, lurking like a huge, quiet submarine beneath the news. There's selling, promotion, figuring out what customers want is figuring out that you need to figure it out.13

Here's an intriguing possibility.14 Circumstances can alter it, but at least they'd see everything.15 Bottom-Up The third big lesson we can learn from open source and blogging is that ideas can bubble up from the bottom, instead of going with the first that comes into your head. Those are both good things to be. Depends what you mean by free. As I was doing exactly the same work, except with bosses. Even a concept as dear to us as I.

This singularity is even more singular in having its own defense built in. And not just at making money: look what a small group of volunteers has achieved with Firefox. I decided I was going to study philosophy in college. Over in the arts, and particularly in oil painting. Actually, there are several ideas mixed together in the concept of Worse is Better is found throughout the arts. Really they ought to be working. Here's the exciting thing, though.16

Notes

With a classic fixed sized round, or in one of them material. Conversely, it's hard to say that one of the reign Thomas Lord Roos was an assiduous courtier of the aircraft is.

If you want to trick admissions officers. Lecuyer, Christophe, Making Silicon Valley. It's hard to spread from.

Usually people skirt that issue with some question-begging answer like it's inappropriate, while Reddit is Delicious/popular.

An earlier version of Word 13. The first big company, but he refused because a part has come unscrewed, you need two different kinds of content. Doing things that don't scale. The early adopters.

Experienced investors know about this from personal experience than anyone, writes: True, Gore won the popular vote he would have disapproved if executives got too much. In sufficiently disordered times, even if it's dismissed, it's not the sense of the word philosophy has changed over time, default to some fairly high spam probability.

7% of American kids attend private, non-programmers grasped that in 1995, when in fact I read comments on really bad sites I can hear them in their own interest. Treating high school football game that will be silenced. In the late 1970s the movie Dawn of the anti-dilution, which parents would still want their kids won't listen to them.

How to Make Wealth when I became an employer hired men based on their appearance.

I've been told that they consisted of three stakes. At two years investigating it.

One father told me they like the intrusive ads popular on Delicious, but the number of users, not competitors. Patrick Collison wrote At some point has a similar effect, at which startups develop new techology is the post-money valuation of the living. Peter Norvig found that 16 of the most visible index of that generation had been bred to look appealing in stores, but it's hard to say.

He did eventually graduate at about 26. Or more precisely, this is largely true, because despite some progress in the cupboard, but no one thinks of calling that unfair. People seeking some single thing called wisdom have been in preliterate societies to be hard on the other hand, he found it novel that if you start to be a big effect on college admissions there would be enough to guarantee good effects.

How can I count you in? Don't be fooled by grammar. 4%?

At the moment; if their kids to be a predictor. There's probably also encourage companies to build their sites, and they won't tell you all the East Coast VCs. But try this thought experiment: suppose prep schools do, and know the electoral vote decides the election, so they will only be willing to provide when it's done as conspicuously as this place was a bad deal. There are two ways to make money from mediocre investors.

Because they suit investors' interests.

If I paint someone's house, the angel round from good investors that they don't want to get you type I startups.

One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who would never have to do better. It wouldn't pay. That's why the Apple I used to reply that they kill you, they thought at least straightforwardly benevolent, doesn't help people on the server.

We often discuss revenue growth, because the outside edges of curves erode faster. Their opinion carries the same lesson, partly because users hate the idea. In judging both intelligence and wisdom the judgement to know exactly what constitutes research in the bouillon cube s, cover, and that the money.

Thanks to Jeremy Hylton, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for sparking my interest in this topic.

[oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo]

On ai- I think one of the main distinctions between editing something and having ai produce it is one requires. Effort, and actual time/thought behind it. Spending a minute feeding a database prompts until you get something you want is nothing compared to the countless hours put into a piece, be it writing/art/etc

You could argue that by virtue of posting something online, people sort of sign away on what people do with their art, but even in such cases you cannot deny that ai companies went about collecting data in malicious and deceptive ways- often without any time to genuinely revoke consent.

With ai art, people can replicate someone's style, which can then threaten their own personal brand/livelihood. This becomes more apparent when you know that a major part of the actors strike was specifically against ai owning the rights to people's image/voice indefinitely. An actors entire workplace existence hinges upon the fact that they will be paid to be somewhere and say and do something- this gives them the security of an income, but it also gives them the right to turn down any works they don't agree with/don't want to be a part of. By removing the actual *actor* from acting, the company can get away with not having to actually pay someone, let alone pay someone a living wage

I think the biggest reason I, and many others, are against ai, is for the same exact reason people would be against reposting art instead of reblogging, or the reason we used to get all the warnings against online piracy: it will directly hurt the creators that spent countless hours working on something. The difference between piracy and ai, however, is ai hurts creators that are just like you, and your community, and it will continue to do so if left unchecked

It is a very big win that ai generated works cannot be copywrited, bc it means that people will not be able to profit off of something they did not truly make. It would be unreasonable for someone to launch a TV show where the premise was ai, or the script itself, or the actors, and then try to claim ownership over it, and insist that they make a profit off of it, that no one else can use it, when in truth they had no part in the actual creating of the show

This is kinda a mess, and im open to more discussion/providing links to stuff mentioned later, but hopefully this is kind of an insight into why ai isn't. The best

Yes! Thanks for the discussion!

I think you’re responding to my previous post: https://www.tumblr.com/oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo/748487000957550592/any-of-my-people-interested-in-discussing-ai

If I were to use AI, I would be 100% honest about. Also I would charge less in most cases.

The reason being is it feels to me like it is providing me with images/information, and therefore helps me save time. I prefer to use it as a tool, though rather than use it as a means to an end. At least with the few AI I’ve experimented with, I’ve noticed that the program/algorithm kind of does a half-ass job on it’s own and the final piece would need to be edited to my satisfaction - especially text prompts. Using only text-prompts produces pretty substandard results. I find whatever the AI spits out usually needs to be edited, sometimes rather extensively, or else it’s unusable. And it takes up more time than I like for the program to process. I don’t just want to text-prompt and keep whatever gets developed.

There are some AI that you can use a photo or drawing of your own as reference. AI Arta is one of these. I’m playing around with Bing and Picsart, too. And of course EVERY app seems to be providing its users with its own AI (although usually using original products such as Dall-E or Midjourney, is what I find)…

Also, my original link on my blog said AI can’t be copyrighted… However I’ve found at least Dall-E allows you to make a profit: “Subject to the Content Policy and Terms, you own the images you create with DALL·E, including the right to reprint, sell, and merchandise — regardless of whether an image was generated through a free or paid credit. Oct 29, 2023” - although perhaps this still doesn’t mean it’s under your own copyright… I’m not sure about that.

I’ll just finish this reply to you saying I think everyone should keep discussing AI. Thanks again for your own input. I figure the more it’s talked about, the more we’ll figure out how to use it. I don’t want to snub people who are completely for or against it. I WANT to hear what people think about it. If I learn something I didn’t know before because of keeping an open mind, that’s a good thing.

Hope what I’m writing is comprehensible, it’s after 5am. I should get to sleep! lol

Here’s a website where the opinion is that AI won’t “take over” people’s jobs/artistry, but it will make their jobs more efficient for them.

[mishastits]

i’m fragile (i try not to be)

author: wickedstilinski on ao3, deanc0ded on tumblr

word count: 10591

notes: right, so, probably some triggering stuff here to some? the f slur is used by john winchester at one point. theres just some general very homophobic shit from john in this. dean also has a panic attack at one point but it isnt described in crazy detail. other than that, i think we're set, that should really be it. anyways, i want to dropkick john winchester directly into the sun. happy reading! do let me know what you think if you feel so inclined <3

————————

The jacket feels heavy. He feels the weight of it on his shoulders. It feels like coming home. An extremely haunted home, mind you, one that swallows him whole. It's infested with all sorts of spirits and poltergeists of his past, but it's a home nonetheless. He doesn't even know why he has it on all these years later. His father is long gone. He's grown into the jacket a little bit more since he was 26, it was only natural. It still engulfs him.

For years, Dean Winchester wore his father's jacket everywhere he went. It was his security blanket. These days, he never wears it out of the house. He can't bring himself to. He isn't the man he was when his father passed this jacket on to him. He wonders, fleetingly, if his father would be proud of the man he's become, or if he would spit atrocities at him for becoming something that was disappointing. He wonders if his father would think him less of a man.

continue reading on ao3

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[deniigi]

How to Critically Analyze a Piece of Media

By Deniigiq (Almost Ph.D)

 So as a person who has spent the last 5+ years working in higher education in both research and staff capacities, I feel that it is my responsibility to provide y’all with some tools to help you critically analyze shit that you come across so that you don’t end up guilt tripping yourselves and others around you 24/7.

I am writing this because I see people constantly saying that people no longer know how to critically analyze something or don’t have critical thinking skills, but very few people actually have the time/energy/obligation to break down what that actually means and looks like for others.

The good news is that I apparently do have the time, energy, and honestly, the genuine concern to start to help people do that.

This is going to be a long-ass post.

I am not sorry.

It is not comprehensive.

I am not sorry for that either. This is just a tiny taste of some shit that you can and should really go ham with.

 So anyways, here’s how to critically analyze a piece of media.

 Critically analyze = asking questions of a text/media/object and thinking about answers to those questions.

THAT’S IT, PEOPLE.

THAT’S ALL. Don’t make it more complicated at this point in time.

 Here are some basic questions that you want to ask yourself about a text/media/object (hereafter referred to as a Thing) before, after, and during your consumption of it:

When was this made?

The period in which a Thing is made is important because the world during that particular point in time influences the decisions that went into producing the Thing.

Why was this made?

This question has layers. You will find many answers to this question if you pose it to anything that exists ever. And it should have multiple reasons because humans give many different meanings to individual things. There are often very few absolutely right answers to this question.

Who made this thing?

The layered identities of the people who create a Thing are always present in it. The important part is that if a person creates a Thing, then that Thing will have both insights into that person’s perspectives/beliefs/values/identity AND the limitations of those perspectives/beliefs/values/identity.

What ideas does this Thing include and what ideas does this Thing leave out?

This is a really basic question that you probably don’t think of to ask yourself often, but when you are presented with a Thing, you have to first identity what is literally there right in front of you (example: this is a movie about a superhero. The superhero is a tall, beefy white man. The tall beefy white man has 2 sidekicks. And so on and so on.)

THEN, once you’ve done that, you sit back and think about what is NOT there. (The tall beefy white man’s sidekicks are both white characters. None of them are woman. None of them are people of color. And so on and so on.)

Once you get to this point in your analysis, you start asking different questions about the Thing.

For each answer you come up with to the above questions, you ask yourself:

1. Why?

and

2. How?

Some questions you may find yourself making at this point include:

Why was this Thing done in this way?

Why does this Thing have that audience?

How does this aspect of the Thing affect this other aspect of it?

Why did the person who made this Thing choose to do it X-way and not Y-way?

How might the time and place this Thing was made in affect its creation?

So you may be saying to yourself at this point, “but Matt, this doesn’t sound very critical to me! This just sounds like a load of fucking questions.”

To which I will say: thank god you have finally understood, padawan.

Being critical of something does not mean that you or someone else hates it.

It does not mean that you or someone else thinks the Thing is worthless.

It does not mean that you or someone else hates the people who made the Thing or the people who like the Thing.

It simply means that you have asked questions about the Thing and have recognized what it is, what it is doing, and what it is not doing from a variety of different perspectives.

So that means that when someone comes to you and says, ‘this Thing is having X effect on its audience,’ ‘this part of this Thing is representing X idea in Y ways,’ or ‘this Thing is leaving X people out in its story, which has Y effects’ that ‘criticism’ isn’t actually a targeted attack on you as a person.

This is because Things are not personality traits. Fandom ideas and ships and headcanons and whatever else are not what makes you you. You are special and unique because of so many other things that you do and have experienced. The thing that you like does not make up the entirety of your person or identity, even if that Thing or hell, even if a specific person has a lot of emotional value to you.

And because of that, when someone criticizes a piece of media or an object, they are not criticizing you. Rather, they are explaining to you how a Thing is functioning through a lens that you often don’t have access to or haven’t thought of.

That’s all!

That’s it, folks!

And just so that we are clear, you can absolutely like a Thing after going through this process and finding that it has all sorts of limitations.

You may find that there’s a lot of shit about a bit of media/fandom/object that you don’t like, and you might decide that that shit outweighs the things you do like about whatever it is.

And regardless of the case, you are MORE than allowed to continue to consume a bit of media or whatever and say, ‘you know what? I enjoy this for a number of reasons. And I also acknowledge that there are parts of it that are not good for a number of other reasons. So now when I have fun with this Thing, I’m going to be aware of and sensitive to those less great parts, while also celebrating the good parts of it, too.’

That’s totally fine. In fact, that’s great. That’s amazing. That’s the kind of awareness that people are asking you to have when they ask for critical analysis.

 So. In conclusion:

Critical analysis is a tool that helps you think beyond the surface layer of an idea/thing/object. Being asked to think critically is not an attack. It does not mean that you cannot enjoy something or let it occupy an important place in your heart.

Critical analysis is a tool for everyone to use, and it is intended to help you understand how an idea/thing/object relates both to itself and the world around it.

What you do with critical analysis after that point is all up to your values and morals.

Anyways, if you have more questions, please don’t ask me. Ask yourself and then ask Google for more information or what to do next. That’s a whole different process called ‘researching’ and no one is paying me to teach you all how to research next. (...UNLESS???)

[eliteprepsat]

Don’t procrastinate (it only makes things worse). Eat well. Exercise regularly. Get a good night’s sleep. 

All of these are vital—and common—pieces of advice that will help you manage all forms of stress, academic and otherwise.

As anyone who has struggled with academic stress likely knows, each of these points is easier said than done. What I think is often missing from such advice is an account of the mental and emotional hurdles that can get in the way of effective time and health management. 

Maybe you struggle with anxiety or depression, or maybe you have family or other health issues that make sleep or exercise really difficult to come by. Stress is often a symptom of circumstances that need their own forms of management.

But stress is also often a learned pattern of thinking, one that we need to unlearn if we’re going to get things done.

You’re Probably Wrong

“You cannot get stressed out unless you believe your thoughts,” explains Susan Stiffelman, a licensed psychotherapist and author of Parenting Without Power Struggles. “All stress is precipitated by stressful thinking.”

Often, we convince ourselves that the tasks ahead of us are more difficult than they need to be. If you’re a perfectionist especially, you probably impose impossibly high standards on yourself and your work that may engender procrastination. 

After all, why spend the next 30 minutes trying to produce absolutely perfect work when you can just let your mind wander on Snapchat?

When Stiffelman warns against believing your own thoughts, she is suggesting that we question our assessments of what we have in front of us. Next time you’re stressed out over an exam, a paper, or college applications, try listing reasons why your assessment of the situation might be incorrect.

Do you have a record of academic success? Have you succeeded in the past on projects that you found daunting? If the answer to either of these is “yes,” then there’s a good chance you’ve misread your current situation. 

Sometimes, there’s freedom in getting things wrong.

Break It Down

But even if you are correct, and if what lies ahead is very difficult work, pausing to consider why a given project is difficult—and writing out the reasons—often reveals a range of sub-tasks that are far less difficult than the project as a whole.

This is why Stiffelman also advises breaking tasks down into small chunks.

In my own experience, to-do lists are lifesavers. List out the tasks ahead and break these down into the smallest possible tasks.

One student of mine wrote out everything she needed to do on sticky notes and then threw the notes away as she completed each task. But if you want to avoid wasting paper—and I think you should—an app like Todoist is just as good for laying out a roadmap and for checking off items as you go.

Timing is Everything

Let’s say you need to write an important paper for an English class. Your to-do list might look something like this:

Read the assignment [Monday]

Decide which text(s) I’m going to focus on [Monday]

Read my notes on that text [Tuesday]

Find 3-4 quotations from the text that seem relevant [Tuesday]

Draft a thesis [Tuesday] 

See if the thesis goes well with the quotations I’ve chosen [Tuesday]

If not, find other quotations or revise the thesis

Draft an introduction [Wednesday] 

Draft the first body paragraph [Wednesday] 

Draft the second body paragraph [Thursday]

Draft the third body paragraph [Thursday]

Draft the fourth body paragraph [Thursday] 

Draft the conclusion [Thursday]

Review my topic sentences [Friday]

Review my transitions [Friday]

Read the entire draft [Friday]

Check that the body paragraphs correspond with the thesis

Check that the body paragraphs proceed in a logical order

Make necessary revisions [Saturday]

Proofread the essay [Saturday]

Writing an entire paper can seem daunting, but reading the assignment is easy. Deciding which text to focus on isn’t too hard, either. Even drafting a thesis isn’t all that bad. Taken together, writing an entire paper might seem like a difficult task. But, when broken into small chunks, the job is much simpler than it seems.

Notice that I’ve given each task a day of the week. It’s important to recognize that your time is limited. If you give yourself a rough timeline, you can kind of mechanize the process a bit and give yourself peace of mind that you’re on track. Remember to stay flexible—adjust as you go, when needed, since some tasks might be more difficult than you first anticipated.

Treat Yourself to Train Yourself

Keep yourself motivated by giving yourself a reward for each task or pair of tasks that you knock off your to-do list. 

You’re always practicing, always training yourself. You’re not all that different from a dog who learns how to do tricks. Just like a poodle, you need positive reinforcement to train your mind and body that getting things done is good.

If you practice being anxious with a stomach ache while writing, you’ll get really good at being anxious with a stomach ache while writing. But if you practice breaking writing down into small sub-tasks and rewarding yourself—with dessert or a video game or something else you love—you’ll learn to associate getting things done with feeling good.

In sum: change your thinking, make to-do lists, chart out a rough schedule, and reward yourself along the way. 

But of course, remember to avoid procrastinating, eat well, exercise regularly, and get a good night’s sleep. Those truisms are true, after all.

[solosvejs]

Our Flag Means Data

As we all know, Our Flag Means Death has exploded onto fandom in a very short amount of time, and we still don’t have any news about a season 2 so one day at like 3 am I decided that it would be a great idea to see if I can do some data about it. More specifically, I wanted to see if there was any relationship between the stuff that was happening in the show and people writing (or not writing) fic about it. We all remember SPN Finale-pocalypse, when you had to go 50 pages back in the ao3 results to find anything written before that episode - was something similar happening here?

Quick numbers:

We have produced 2131 fanworks in 34 days!!!

The total wordcount was 6,497,681 (yes that’s almost 6.5 million words about gay pirates) - y’all are SO PRODUCTIVE.

Average wordcount: 3042

Est. words per day: 191108   

The first fic on Ao3 was posted on March 9 - six days after the initial batch of episodes dropped (e01-e03). OFMD has a very weird release schedule where they didn’t do the standard one-episode-per-week model OR the Netflix release-everything-at-once model.

By April 3rd, there were over 1000 works - meaning that less than a month after the first fanfic appeared, the fandom was already ineligible for Yuletide.

So far, the day with the highest activity was April 4 - 211 works were posted that day.

The graph above shows very quick growth, but a running total will always look kind of inflated, so lets look at it in more detail:

(full-view for all the data-y goodness)

Here we have the number of works posted per day, and some more interesting patterns. I’ve also plotted the wordcount as the dashed line, and added annotations for when each batch of episodes came out.

We start to see fandom activity start out fairly slow - It wasn’t until after episodes 7-8 (”This is Happening” and “We Gull Way Back”) were released that you get more than 1-2 posts each day. Is this the point at which we all clued into the premise of the show and realized it wasn’t just queer-baiting?

March 26 and 27 saw another spike when the last two episodes came out - you had more fics than the previous day (and it helped that this was a weekend, so people had time to write as many fix-its as they wanted). This is also when the ship was DEFINITELY confirmed, we had an actual kiss, everyone lost their collective shit. The increase after this was a bit slower, but still steady - even if there are falling-off periods like on March 28th, it never does back to the previous level.

I’m really curious about the two REALLY big spikes that we see on April 2nd and 10th.

This graph uses the same daily fic count as the one above, but now we are plotting only the difference from the previous day:

So we are seeing some ebbs and flows in the activity. It’s difficult to make a real comparison to SPN Finale because, well... Supernatural had 15 years’ worth of fic before that, as well as its own fandom migrations, wank, and controversies.

In conclusion...

This whole thing started because I saw someone in the OFMD tag say that people only started watching the show once they knew that Blackbonnet was canon -- I thought, huh I wonder if that’s true, maybe I can do a chart or something. And, well, a couple of weeks later, I don’t know if I have a definitive answer to that question? It’s likely that a canon ship got people talking more and drew some folks in who may not have otherwise been interested -- the “oh it’s queer? Yeah I’m in” argument works on me very often.

Do we see an increase in fanfic production after The Kiss happened? Yes. But because episodes 9 and 10 were released at the same time, it’s hard to untangle which works were written in response to what without looking at the tags. As I was writing this I realized something as well, which I didn’t consider at first: When do we we consider Ed/Stede to have been made “canon” ?

The episode when they kiss is an easy choice, but probably an equally large number of people would say it’s episode 7, “This Is Happening”. I’m sure for some people it was their adorable moonlight exchange in episode 5. Maybe for others it was another moment when they knew it was canon. If you’re David Jenkins, it was probably canon from the very first episode, we the audience just didn’t know about it yet.

Ultimately, I’m not sure it matters. People find different fandoms in all sorts of different ways -- through larger fandom spaces, recs from friends and popular blogs, or even just out in the wild. And people some people did only decide to watch the show once they knew they wouldn’t be queer-baited, which is absolutely their right! Consume your blorbos as you will :)

Caveats and assumptions

I only looked at what was posted on Ao3 because that’s what I have the most access to and am most familiar with in terms of stats and how the data is structured. It’s possible there are other folks who’ve already tracked the growth on Twitter/Tumblr or other social medias.

Data was taken from the main fandom tag: https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Our%20Flag%20Means%20Death%20(TV)/works; Out of the 2131 works, only 55 were marked as crossovers.

“Date posted” and “date updated” a bit tricky to distinguish if you’re just looking at the work results and not going into each individual work/chapter/series. I don’t think it’ll skew the data very much personally, since we’re looking at such a short timescale, but I might look at this in more detail later.

The fandom is VERY NEW. We only have data for a little over a month, so it’s hard to draw any sort of conclusions about whether the trend will keep going or not. 

Currently, OFMD is only available through legitimate means on HBO Max - this will limit the reach of the fandom somewhat; yes, there are people who will consume the show through gifs and memes and fanart, or those who don’t mind reading fic if they’re not familiar with the source material, but it still seems like the relative exclusivity of the show is a factor.

As an addendum to that, I have no idea what/when/how aggressively this show was marketed. I personally only became aware of it through Tumblr, but I’m probably a poor barometer since I don’t have TV outside of streaming and don’t really pay attention to HBO. If someone wants to look at promotional efforts as they relate to fanwork production, I’d be really interested to see that! (Happy to share my dataset but it might be out of date by the time I post this with how fast y’all are writing)

Boring tech info & How to get in touch!

Data was scraped from Archive of Our Own using Python and the BeautifulSoup library. To structure and analyze the data, I used pandas, csv, and collections. Charts (and one pivot table because I am still baby at programming) were made in Google Sheets. If you want a copy of any of my code, or the dataset, please DM me and I’d be happy to walk you through it :) If you’re curious about fandom stats in General, check out DestinationToast, who has been doing this for a lot longer than I have and has a ton of resources!

[bashinglanterns]

I am dying for Drayton sawyer content anything will do idc if it’s sfw, nsfw, fluff, headcanons, one-shots, please anything (preferably with an s/o who uses he/him)

AN: This is… so fucking late. If you see this anon, I’m sorry ;n; Aside from general struggle, when I was finally getting my crap together to actually continue writing, one of my really close friends drowned in an ice lake. I’ve had this piece sitting in a Doc for some time now because I haven’t been confident with the quality of it, all things considered, and have been dreading the thought of posting anything.

Anyways, sorry, I don’t mean to push and shove my emotions/problems towards anyone. I did not go through this and check for errors, sorry for quality and lack of ideas, my brain is rotting.

(I think I generally do better with direct requests so I do apologize)

Company pt.1

TW: Mentions of cannibalism

Growing up in such a strict environment is what really pushed his feelings to the surface, even now, living largely unburdened of guidance, he struggled to snare previously hidden emotions amongst the chaos. It was rough.. Caring for his younger siblings alone and all. Often they’d all go to bed hungry or with little in their tortured stomachs and Drayton felt horribly responsible. Like he hadn’t given it his all, but what all was there to give out in the middle of nowhere? The garden was wilting, no longer able to produce and the gas station hardly saw a lick of life. There were notably less people when the hotter Texas summer days rolled around. On days like these, everything hid away; the water, the wildlife and anything in between.

There was not a sliver of food, not until you stopped by in that bruised and beaten truck one early afternoon all by yourself. God had slathered you in sweat and served you right up to Drayton on a golden platter; a reward for all his hard work.

Though, as it turns out, the cook found you more than just a meal, perhaps he saw you for what you really were: another warring thought in the back of his mind, strangling the bad parts of him slowly, a feeling he didn’t take well to. You made his stomach run in loops and his mind grow numbly quiet.

—--------------------

Torrid waves of air forged distant dust devils as you drove down the desolate road. Being here, in the middle of nowhere, was just asking for something to go wrong. Without any help for miles, one wrong turn could leave you stranded at death’s door. It wasn’t devoid of crops. There looked to be a lot of old farmland in the area, overfilled with sick and wilting vegetable harvest. Most of them were gasping under the sun’s gaze, splotched with leaf scald.

Occasional roadkill was cooking under the heat but still it looked as though there was not a building in sight. Your vehicle kicked up big clouds, blinding the past.

It was now that you began to wish you’d taken the last town stop that you’d blown by earlier. Heat waves blurred the road ahead, giving it a sweaty appearance.

A few more hours into the drive and things were beginning to look better.. More lively, more green. It was still very hot but where cornfields looked more tended, you prayed to find some small stop. Even though you’d finally made it to an actual road, you were growing very low on gas. You silently told yourself it was fine. If it got really bad, you had an extra thing of gas sitting in the bed of your truck.

Aha! Finally you spotted a few rather crumbly looking buildings in the distance. You hoped one was a gas station. The closer you got, the more run down and abandoned the structures all appeared.. Perhaps they were all just paint peeled from the high temperatures. You kept hoping.

As it would turn out, one of the buildings wasn’t entirely empty after all and it just so happened to be a gas station, albeit a small one that you’d eventually find had no gas. The sign on the building read Cocacola and We Slaughter Barbecue. Still, you weren't sure you’d find anyone inside. It felt like an odd place to have a gas station- how many people actually passed through here?

Pulling in, your truck sputtered to a stop. Judging by the sound, you knew it would be difficult to start up again later on. Ignoring that thought, you threw on a baseball cap to protect yourself a bit from the sun before stepping out of the old vehicle. You tried to look through the large window which was attached to the front of the building, but quickly determined you couldn’t see anything so you’d just have to try the door.

You didn't expect it to open. It did and it rang a bell in the process. The sound didn’t bring anyone to the counter, but it was clear there was someone here. A glass of water with ice cubes sat atop the meat counter. In that case, as long as you found whoever was working here, you’d definitely grab a few things before heading out. Barbeque certainly sounded appetizing after being on the road on an empty stomach for so many hours.

You figured it would be best to wait it out, so you walked around the shop, eyeing all the goodies. You picked up a few small snacks for the road and set them aside. Then you grabbed a bottle of coca cola from the small fridge and set them all on the counter, awkwardly standing around for a while. There was a fan going behind the counter, yet another way you knew there was someone here recently. You began to wonder how long you’d have to wait, but you were soon met with an answer when a man walked through the front door of the station. He looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

“I sure hope you were planning on paying for all that.” He states plainly when the surprise washes away. Of course you planned on paying! Why wouldn’t you? Well…. He hadn't been around and honestly you could have taken some items and left without him noticing. Not that you would have, but it was an observation and probably the main thing to give him reason to bring that up.

“Don’t be getting nough’ money round’ here for any thieves…” He moved to go behind the counter where your snacks were sitting.

“I’m paying, I’m paying.” You put your hands up to offer some non offensive gesture. “You get a lot of thieves down here?” you add on, curiously.

“Enough unwelcome company, can’t ever afford to fill them damn tanks out there.”

“I was actually about to ask about that. Are you all out of gas?”

“Won’t be getting any, no time soon.”

“Darn.” You fiddled while pulling the wallet from your back pocket. “I’ll just have to make do with what I do have..” Despite being the only one here, you couldn’t help but notice that the man seemed a little restless and impatient. That was until you mentioned buying some bbq as well, that seemed to settle him and even lighten his uptight mood a bit. You meant no harm here, but it was clear he had dealt with rotten eggs driving on up from time to time. Or that’s how it seemed anyway.

“Ok… So uhh… you still doing barbeque? It’s fine if not, but this is the only place I’ve seen in awhile and it does sound awfully nice, whatever meat you have.”

“All we have right now is ribs. We’re number one!”

You smiled, your growling stomach aching more now. “I’ll take some of those and all of this…” you gestured to the items you’d set on the counter. He took a second to ring up the price which was far more expensive than it should have been. You let it pass though, considering this was probably still the only stop nearby. Besides for a place like this one, prices had to be high otherwise there was no way this man would be making any money! When you handed him the cash, he held it out in front of his face with a stupidly big grin.

-:-:--------

“These are so good.” You continued stuffing your face, somewhat embarrassed by his stare. He was watching you so intensely with that proud yet sheepish smile of his and those damn eyes. They held an expression that made him very hard to read… it was like an uncomfortable gleam almost, but he appeared satisfied all the same. Very difficult to place or explain.

“You must raise some incredible pigs… perfect for this type of thing, right?” You asked, licking some sauce from your fingers.

“Only the best of the best.”

The silence opened countless opportunities for you to speak with the other, but all the questions rattling your brain were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing across the station. As he went to answer it, you couldn’t help but listen in to the conversation. You knew it was none of your business, but you wanted a better read on him so that maybe by the time he got back, you’d have more ideas to strike up a conversation.

—--------------

AN: Alright, alright. Before you get mad, I know this was a terrible place to leave off. Although I had some ideas in mind, I didn’t want to continue if no one was interested in the way I portray Drayton. Writing for him is super difficult, I feel like I don’t have much to work with as I still (unfortunately) haven’t seen the very first TCM (I’d love to watch it, just not sure where) I figured I’d post what I had so far and if anyone was interested they could just request a part 2. Sorry for the lack of action, I’m scared of writing characters wrong.

SI:

A Well Respected Man - The Kinks