#just add grease

[jarpadandjensens]

dean  |  fan fiction |   baby

[nerdyvocals]

Something I need to see in season 2: at least one full episode of Nancy being the best ally and coming up with increasingly batshit excuses for why Cynthia and Lydia keep disappearing together until Cynthia is ready to tell the other Pink Ladies

[sapphosclown]

Cynthia x Lydia headcanons for funsies:

when cynthia first starts in the drama club, lydia would complain to floyd and arthur about how annoying she is during rehearsals and they would just kind of look at each other like “are you thinking what i’m thinking”

lydia would act annoyed around cynthia during rehearsals etc. but when she gets home she always ends up thinking about her constantly and giggles to herself when she thinks of something dumb she did earlier

cynthia love’s physical touch. she loves to hug and hold hands and kiss. she often will dramatically kiss lydia’s hand. lydia calls her an idiot for it but she is actually blushing really hard and can’t stop smiling so cynthia kisses her more

in addition to that, when they’re in a safe place cynthia will sneak up behind lydia to hug her

i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again. lydia uses masculine compliments for cynthia and it always makes her blush so bad

cynthia will not admit to anyone that she actually likes romcoms but lydia “makes” her watch them and if they’re musicals they’ll sing along to the duets

this one is based off a real scene- in ep. 7 after the play at the frosty palace, the camera pans over to lydia a couple times and each time she’s like spaced out and looking out the window. i think she was truly just hoping cynthia would show up and talk to her and she was disappointed everytime she heard the bell chime and someone walked in who wasn’t her

lydia has a polaroid camera and will take pictures of cynthia when she’s not paying attention and keeps some on her vanity mirror

on drive in nights they’ll sneak onto the concessions roof and watch the movie from there. cynthia does bad impressions of the actors and lydia info dumps random information about the actors she’s read in the papers

cynthia steals lydia’s hat off her head if she doesn’t give her enough attention and then holds it “out of reach” and says she can have it back if she can guess the password (the password is missing her on the mouth. a lot.)

lydia leaves notes in cynthia’s locker sometimes. it’s always left on a little lilac post it with no signature but cynthia keeps them all in an old mints tin in her room.

durning rehearsals, cynthia will try to catch lydia’s eye and subtly flirt with her while she’s acting because she likes how flustered she gets and if she breaks character she has to buy cynthia a soda (flirts with body language, kissy faces, teases about the scene, sits behind geraldine and then makes bunny ears behind her, etc.)

[iidsch]

[Major Omori spoilers]

A common criticism of Omori is that the plan Basil came up with is too "edgy" or just unbelievable, but I feel like the people who think that are looking at this scene with the wrong glasses.

Yes, when you look at it from a third-person perspective, after learning how Mari's suicide deeply affected everyone and, I assume, as an adult (I highly doubt kids are playing this game), the plan seems very irrational and stupid. And indeed it is. Because that's the kind of plan a kid would come up with if put in such an extreme situation.

Let me use an example that will be understandable for most people, I hope. Imagine you're cooking something in the kitchen, something that requires really hot oil, like fried potatoes. Suddenly, a fire breaks out. If this is the first time this happens, and you're prone to getting anxiety, your first thought is going to be pouring water on the fire. Anyone familiar with kitchen hazards knows that pouring water on a grease fire will make the fire spread and become worse. But you need two important things to be able to act accordingly in this situation: one is the knowledge of what your actions will lead to (in this case the fire becoming worse if you pour water onto it), and two, the ability to calm down so you can make the best decision.

Sunny and Basil had none of those when Mari died. They panicked and, unable to look at the situation with a clear mind, they made everything worse.

And this is not your average 'oh I got a little nervous and made a mistake' scenario. This is a scenario where you, unwillingly and completely on accident, killed someone. Someone that you, and many people around you, deeply loved. As the player, you're observing the situation from a place where you can judge their actions objectively, without any emotions that would tamper with your decisions.

But when you're in the middle of that kind of situation you don't have time to think about it. You're overwhelmed with very strong and negative feelings. Sunny completely shuts himself down, and possibly forces his mind to forget what just happened, the same way he forgets about the closet or Basil's room after he kills himself. Basil, on the other hand, denies that Sunny had pushed his sister down the stairs, and blames "something behind him'", leading him to believe that if someone discovers Mari's dead body, they'll "unjustly" put the blame on Sunny, so he opts for what he thinks is the best solution - lie about her death.

Maybe Basil thought of some other way they could lie to get away with her death, or maybe suicide was the only possibility on his mind at that time. Whatever is the case, we know the decision they took. Or rather the decision Basil took, since it's entirely plausible that Sunny had completely closed himself off and was just following Basil's instructions.

When you see it from the comfort of your chair, all their actions seem really bad, if not terrible, given how Mari's supposed suicide makes the group's friendship crumble. But that is a very unfair treatment of the situation and of their feelings. You’re asking two kids, who are already very shy and anxious, to deal with one kind of situation that I don’t even think an adult could handle well. If what they did seems unrealistic to you, you haven’t fully grasped how traumatic and stressful it must have been for them, and for any other person.

When I first learned the truth, I couldn’t stop asking myself: "what would have I done if this had happened to me?" But that's a question I am not allowed to answer, as I've never had something so tragic happen to me. And that's where the true horror of the game lies, in the fact that this could happen to anyone. Maybe not to such an extreme degree, but making one mistake, hurting someone you love in consequence, and feeling guilty about it is a very real thing to go through, one that I'm sure many have already experienced.

Sunny and Basil were just kids, they made the wrong decision and were forced to live with the unimaginable pain and guilt of their actions. To call their behavior irrational is to deny how humanly they acted in that situation. And after all, to err is human, and what they did was just a terrible mistake.

[jupitercl0uds]

I NEED TO BAKE A CAKE RAAAAAAAAA

[queermyth]

Silco buffet. young silco, Drink With Me silco (courtesy of @ink-and-dagger’s amazing fic I’m simping so hard respectfully <3), bloody silco.. the list is never ending tbh I have so many sketches of this man littered everywhere🧍

[sluttish-armchair]

Well the good thing about the tiny stubby 50 cent thing I got from the hardware store is that it’s too gross for me… and it can serve as a red (or blue… it’s blue) herring if anything were to come out

[possessedchain-archive]

ahem -- !!

wishlist

interest tracker

[melancholy-smile]

Sometimes I think of dumb things my dad has done and I’m like “yeah that’s where I get it from.” That man is my best friend.

I was reminded of things my dad has done because my friend sent me a post wjsbsjsh

[roughentumble]

also scott's parents are away on vacation in europe, which speaks to a level of class and wealth that his family has, and positions them as largely absent over the course of the story. when we do see them, theyre hardly abusive, but it would be easy to extrapolate common fandom ideas about haskier's parentage onto this dynamic

[submarinerwrites]

my solution to reseasoning cast iron pans that other members of your household have used for dubious purposes (without actually going through the whole process of reseasoning bc literally who has time for that) is just making a breakfast sandwich in there. fried bread soaks up whatever leftover crap was in the pan. a sunnyside up egg helps with the coating. and you have a delicious breakfast.

[lilbit-of-kizzy]

Oh boy there's more gravy left from the cream bologna!....but no bologna left....meh I'll just fry some more!.....man this smells/looks good...............

Skip to me just eating the cut up pieces of bologna like a little gremlin while the gravy sits sadly on the counter

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

oh my god i figured it out

okay so it took an accident of me not checking on it, but I FINALLY figured out why I wasn't getting enough loft on my bread:

I was NOT giving enough time for yeast/bacteria production.

So if I do my other bread recipe's 4 hour levain development, then follow the pullman's recipe and do about an hour and a half initial rise (with stretch and folds) with a one hour final rest and rise, I get something like this:

okay that rose in the oven but like. not a whole lot, yknow?

tried again, a little longer on the levain, but this time I tried to do the final rest/rise in the fridge overnight like when you have an overnight ferment on a classic sourdough

oh that's a lot better! but the recipe is for a PULLMAN'S loaf, it should be square as possible, am I using enough ingredients?

NO I WAS. I JUST WASNT GIVING ALL THE TIMES ENOUGH TIME

this time I let the levain (40-50g starter, 35g whole wheat flour, 35g AP flour, 70 mL water) develop for like six and a half hours in a proofer or a slightly warmed oven.

pour levain into a stand mixer if you've got one, bowl if you dont. Mix in sugar (35g) and warm water (400mL). Let that sit for the usual half hour in proofer.

add flour (600ish grams total, i often do about a third whole wheat to two thirds AP), 5g salt, 80-90g fat of choice (butter, margarine, etc). I put it in the stand mixer for around 10 minutes on low. (this is a REALLY old stand mixer so it CAN go real slow- do 7-8 min on lowest setting on a modern mixer, 15 min if you wanna do a hand knead)

cover and put in proofer. As usual I did 4 stretch and folds at half hour intervals, but on the final interval I forgot about the timer- it was left in the bowl for around a full hour after the last fold rather than the planned half hour.

by the time I checked on it, it rose WAY more than i was expecting it to. Decided to roll with it (lol), greased the pullman's pan (butter if no one's allergic, margarine otherwise), flattened, rolled up the dough, plopped it in and slid on the lid.

Did the final rest for two full hours in proofing temps, then baked at 350-60ish for a half hour with the lid slid on, 15 min with the lid off.

so, all in all: the ideal loaf of pullman's sourdough starts when you wake up and comes out around dark lunch.

not practical but hey! an interesting study to be sure

[sapphosclown]

It’s How Guys Talk

Cynthia is a virgin and a lesbian and lives in the 1950s. For better or worse, she decides Gil is her best bet for advice.

aka cynthia goes to big brother gil for a sex talk

This is not smut, they are simply talking about their feelings. Also Cynthia and Lydia are out to their inner circles.

———

Things were going good. Too good. Good enough that Cynthia was starting to understand that feeling Jane had talked about, waiting for a bomb to drop.

It’s been easier than she imagined, being with Lydia. During rehearsals they’d find ways to hold hands without making a scene about it, Floyd and Arthur would help hide it as well. Not that they thought the rest of the thespians would care, but they were afraid of chatter.

They’d go to the drive in, they’d meet up on the concessions roof and “watch” the movie from there. It’s surprisingly easy access and also weirdly private. They’d hangout on weekends. Sometimes weeknights when Cynthia’s dad gets stuck at the shop and Lydia’s parents think they have homework or rehearsing to do.

Getting alone time, weirdly, was not the problem.

It was easy being around Lydia. She laughed at her jokes, when she didn’t laugh she’s roll her eyes and Cynthia would bug her until she finally gave in and laughed at the dumb joke. Lydia would help Cynthia with her english homework, Cynthia would run lines with Lydia.

They would tell stories, secrets. Tell each other about their pasts. One night at the drive in, the movie playing was one Cynthia’s mom had liked. Lydia saw she had been acting weird about it, and to both their surprise Cynthia had opened up about it. Cynthia really hates vulnerability, but with Lydia, it wasn’t so scary.

So simply being with each other, also not the problem.

Eventually, all that other stuff ends up the same way. If Lydia is doing her homework, she’s not giving Cynthia attention. So, Cynthia will, very maturely, steal something from Lydia. Which, she will not return until she receives a kiss. And who’s Lydia to say no, she needs her pencils after all.

Rehearsing is always easier when fully committed as they both know, so they’re sure not to skip over any kisses. And sometimes they forget to go back to the play. Most of the time.

Cynthia could kiss Lydia forever, whenever. She’s got her trapped under a spell and she doesn’t even care. She’s a lovesick puppy and that’s fine by her.

So kissing, in itself, is not the problem.

No, the problem is that kissing is so good, and it has recently become… intense. Their contact becoming closer, their hands wandering further, and their layers getting less and less. And it’s all so good.

But Cynthia always stops.

She doesn’t want to. She really, really doesn’t want to. But eventually the intensity becomes overwhelming and she just, full stops. She gets lost after some point and doesn’t want to mess anything up. So Lydia goes home, and Cynthia lays in her bed kicking herself.

Lydia is always nice about it, but Cynthia can’t help but feel like she’s disappointing her. If she’s honest, she’s disappointing herself.

She doesn’t want to mess it up. It’s not like they give much sex ed about straight relationships, and there’s definitely nothing to help out a gay virgin. At least straight people have something to work with to figure it all out. For her, it felt hopeless.

But she had to do something, she was starting to go a little crazy. So, she called the only person she could think of.

***

“I want to have sex.”

“Jesus, Cynthia, my ears.” Gil cringed from behind the wheel of his car. Cynthia had called him up out of nowhere and said it was urgent. So, he got there as quick as he could. However, those were not the first words he wanted to hear when she hopped into the passenger seat.

“No, Gil, seriously, I need your help.”

“I’m not having sex with you Cynthia.”

“Ew, gross! Not with you, dumbass.” Cynthia hit him in the arm. “With Lydia. Obviously.”

“Okay? Then do it I don’t know what you want from me.” Gil held his arm where she had punched him and he watched her expression soften.

“It’s not that easy.” She said as she sat back in the seat and crossed her arms.

“What do you mean?” He shifted to face her more. She just looked out the windows for a second.

“You know what, this was stupid. I’m sorry—” She opened the door and started to leave but Gil pulled her back inside.

“Hey, kid, look I’m sorry, ok? What’s up, you can talk to me.”

Cynthia looked at him and sighed. She could tell her face was starting to get red but she hoped he would assume it’s from the heat.

“Things with Lydia have been good, great even. It’s just… Things have been starting to feel more… Intense. And it’s a good intense, don’t get me wrong,” They both chuckled. “But I feel like we’re wanting to go further but I just don’t know… how.”

Gil was looking at her and any awkwardness he was feeling he was hiding very well, which Cynthia appreciated because she knew she was not doing so herself.

“Cynth, I wanna help you, I do, but it’s different for you.”

“I know!” She covered her face with her hands. “I know that. And I know I tease but you know more about handling women than I do. You’re my best bet right now.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. “Okay. How far have you gotten.”

Cynthia glanced at him and then shy’d back to the window. “Second.” She said, trying to suppress a smile. Gil chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“Not bad kid, not bad.”

She shooed him off of her and started fixing her bangs. “Yeah yeah, but what do we do after?”

“Well, you’ve got to keep it casual. You can’t put too much expectation into it or else it’s gonna fall flat. And you’ve got to make sure she’s okay with everything going forward. Hey,” He looked Cynthia in the eyes. “I’m serious about that. You make sure you’re both comfortable and if not you stop. You understand?” He pointed at her, she nodded. “Out loud.”

“I understand.”

“Okay. From there, you might not like this answer but, you’ve really just got to feel it out.” Cynthia groaned. “I know, but your body will know what it wants, and if you’re talking to each other, you’ll know what she wants.”

Cynthia sat with that idea for a minute. She knew she wanted more. She could imagine what that might entail, but there were so many what if’s, so many unknowns. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk it.

“What if I do it wrong.” She says quietly.

“I’m not gonna lie to you kid, you might.” He sighs. “You’ll probably be a little nervous, it will more likely than not be awkward,”

“You’re not building my confidence.”

“But. You guys have been together for long enough now, all of that is part of the magic. You mess up and then you guys laugh it off and try again. And, you can change your mind and stop at any point. It feels like a big deal, and I’m not saying it’s not, but don’t stress about it.”

Cynthia breathed out a laugh. “Thanks Gilliam.” She punched him in the arm again, playful this time.

“Don’t sweat it. It’s what guys do.”

She smiled at that. “Any other tips and tricks?”

Gil pondered for a moment. “A little teasing never hurts.” He says looking out at the road, a smirk forming. Cynthia nodded, trying to hide the awkwardness she’s feeling. He continued, “And you know… foreplay is—“

“Ew, gross, never mind don’t tell me I don’t wanna know.” She shut down and refused to look at him.

“I would say use protection but I don’t really know how you’d,”

“Ugh, Gil I said gross.” Cynthia shuddered as she opened the car door and got out.

“You’re welcome!” Gil shouted as she left, chuckling to himself.

***

Cynthia’s dad is working late. She knows he won’t be home for a while. So, she invites Lydia over. Currently, they’re both in her room. This is cool. Cool cool cool.

“So, what are your plans for the—“ Lydia starts but is quickly cut off my Cynthia practically pouncing on her and starting a passionate kiss. They eventually break apart and Lydia mutters quickly, “I can get on board with this.” They both chuckle and return back to each other.

It was heated and a little sloppy and desperate and fun, god was it fun. Cynthia could feel all her thoughts and anxieties welling in her head but she suppressed them as far as she could and just kept kissing and kissing and kissing.

She eventually found the courage to move her kisses from Lydia’s lips down to her jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone.

“Cynthia?” She heard Lydia’s voice but it sounded far away. “Hey, Cynth,” She felt Lydia’s hands gently pulling her face back to eye level.

“Why’d you stop? Did I do something wrong?” Cynthia asked.

“No, no not at all you were… It was very nice.” She giggled. “I just, wanted to check on you.” She said it calmly. A glint in her eye telling Cynthia she knows something.

“Yeah, no yeah I’m good I’m ready to go if you are.” She leaned in for another kiss but Lydia pulled back.

“Cyn.” She stroked her cheekbone with her thumb. “Talk to me.”

Cynthia looked at her girlfriend and sighed as she rolled off to the side of her and sat criss-crossed on her bed.

“Things have been going so good. I really really like being with you in ways I can’t even explain with words. And I really like kissing you. Like, so much.” Lydia smiled at that. “I just, when things start to get heated… I don’t know I panic. It’s not that I don’t want to do other things with you obviously, it’s just… scary.” Cynthia’s voice was small, she kept her gaze focused on the piece of her comforter she was picking at.

She watched as Lydia’s hand took her fidgety one and looked up to meet her eyes. “It’s scary for me too.” She said.

“It is?” Cynthia breathed.

“Yes! It’s scary to be intimate like that, and I’ve never done it before with anyone, so I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“Oh my god.” Cynthia let out a sigh and rested her head on Lydia’s shoulder as the other girl laughed. “I was so worried I’d mess something up and you’d think I was terrible at sex and break up with me.”

“I would never.” Lydia chuckled. Cynthia giggled along side her.

They sat like that for a moment. Letting the comfortable silence wash over them as Cynthia embraced the comfort of the crook of Lydia’s neck. It was nice. She liked this.

“Hey,” Lydia broke their silence and turned her head to Cynthia, using her finger to gently guide her face up from her shoulder. “Let’s take it slow, alright? We’re not in a rush. Whatever happens, happens. Okay?”

Cynthia nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both smiled into another kiss. This one soft and tender. A signature to the deal they’ve just made. Sweet.

Lydia pulled away first, leaving Cynthia chasing after her. “Why don’t we watch TV.” Lydia whispered, scanning Cynthia’s face before getting up from the bed and heading to the living room. Cynthia watched in awe after her girlfriend as she walked away. Turns out Gil was right, a little teasing didn’t hurt.

———

a/n: Gil and Cynthia friendship is actually so important to me they are so siblings. Our sweet thesbians don’t know a thing about sex but I’m sure they figure it out one day, not today though. They do make out practically the entire time they’re watching tv though. Cynthia does stop to sing along to the Ipana commercial and Lydia calls her dumb but let’s her finish.

ps if you read all the way through this you should check out this edit i made of them bc i really like it and would like if it got some more love that’s all thank you for reading <3

[strang3lov3]

Chevelle

Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)

Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.

A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.

Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.

Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷

It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel. 

Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.

Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day. 

-

You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple.  You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.

You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something. 

You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy. 

You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.

The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand. 

“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you. 

You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.

You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.

-

In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic. 

When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.

What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable. 

-

The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”

“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”

“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”

Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you. 

You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.

“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”

“Mm,” you hum.

“Hit and run, can you believe that?” 

“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”

“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.” 

Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”

Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”

“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”

“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake. 

Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.” 

The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”

“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.” 

 The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”

You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”

Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear,  “S’okay, sweet girl.” 

“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”

“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”

Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles. 

He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”

“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft. 

Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you. 

You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”

You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.

 “Is that it?” 

“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”

His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says.  “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”

Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.” 

You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste. 

“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.

Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to. 

He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”

You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.

What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.” Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before.  Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs. 

“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view. 

Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.

He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”

The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try. 

You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you. 

“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”

Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”

His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips. 

“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment. 

“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. 

Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.

From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt. 

“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”

You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold. 

“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”

You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”

It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”

Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”

You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.

“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.

He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure.  You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure. 

Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on. 

You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg. 

“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”

Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.

Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend. 

His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.

With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man. 

Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further. 

 “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”

“You want me…”

“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.

He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3

From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻

[nil-the-glitch]

actually yknow what, no. this is not being limited to discord, yall get it too.

some general cooking tips (in which there is a brief senshi posession):

moisture is the enemy of crispy skin. pat dry with paper towel, and if you have the time and spoons, give a thorough but even coat of baking powder and let sit uncovered in your fridge overnight. this will dry out the skin nicely. for pork belly, create a tight foil boat so that only the skin is showing, and cover in salt to draw out moisture, repeating a couple times if necessary.

furikake seasoning, for the fellow rice lovers, is just nori (seaweed), sesame seeds, sugar, and msg/salt. you might have most if not all of these things already in your kitchen.

chai spice mix is just cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, & allspice.

pumpkin spice is just cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger.

to cure your own bacon, you only need water, white and brown sugar, and a non-iodized salt - himalayan pink salt is not iodized, if you cannot find butchers curing pink salt. from there, you can add any seasoning/flavoring you want.

the truly adventurous may cook their rice in green tea for a fresh clean taste.

you can tell if a fish is truly fresh by their eyes - clear and bright is fresh, while cloudy is older or potentially has been frozen.

it's cheaper to buy a large block pack of ramen from your local asian market and repackage the bricks into sandwich bags, than to buy a box of individually packaged ones such as maruchan or top ramen.

when buying meat, look at it's fat content - more fat marbling usually means more tender + flavorful.

you can save onion skins and other vegetable scraps to make your own broth with. you can also save bones for this. mix and match ratios to create your ideal flavor.

bay leaf will always make a soup or broth taste better, but Watch Out (they are not fun to bite into on accident).

msg is, in fact, not The Devil, that was just a racist hate campaign against the chinese and other oriental races. it's literally just a type of salt. it is no more dangerous to eat than any other type of salt.

washing your rice is important because it not only improves flavor and texture by removing excess starch, but it also helps reduce any residual pesticides or dirt, or even insect fragments (please remember that rice paddies are essentially giant ponds that all kind of things live in and swim around. you should also be washing all your produce in general.)

please salt your cooking water for pastas, it just tastes better and you will be happier for it.

boiled potatoes are also improved by salt water.

if you hate vegetables, please consider trying them fried in butter or perhaps bacon grease. it is healthier to eat them fatty than not at all.

healthy food does not in fact have to taste miserable. thats a lie. they are lying to you. free yourself from your blandness shackles. enter a world of flavor.