#outside the sphere of their family

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

not sure if I personally agree with Aristotle about friendship tbh

[decapodparty]

jokes aside i always thought it was worth noting that the second dean found real bonds outside of his family he pretty much gave up sex when on screen (until he was a demon but thats a whole can of worms). the moment a steady cast of supporting characters comes in, dean drops the womanizer act like it was burning him up. for simplicity’s sake id say the first long-lasting supporting character we get that isn’t familial would be cas, and sometime around season 5 we no longer see dean hopping bars, bragging about what he’ll do that night. there’s obviously slice girls (s7), but aside from that iirc the only times dean is in a bar, it’s to talk or to drink. as the seasons go on and we collect a small cast of semi-longstanding allies who aren’t even implied to be romantic interests (jody, charlie, kevin, garth, etc), dean’s supposedly salacious nature disappears like it never existed. he makes jokes sometimes but, really, from what i remember, any pursuit of a night out with a stranger is pretty much eviscerated from any on-screen dialogue as early as s5 or 6.

and THEN to open the demon dean ordeal- it’s really interesting that the moment he drops his connections, he goes back to his early season tendencies. it feels like with him, he either has sex or personal bonds, and when friends appear sex is dropped pretty much entirely. personally i choose to interpret it as dean preferring fulfillment from close bonds, and not truly caring for sex as much as the viewer is led to believe.

[silver-grasp]

I'm such a sucker for "characters who you'd think would be at odds are actually in cahoots" which is why I love Xie Yuchen and Zhai Xingyao in tlt2 - It's set up as the CLASSIC illegitimate brother trying to undermine the other and take over plotline, except PSYCH they're in on it together and were rooting out the traitors!! I love it.

[zoe-oneesama]

Is Chloe really REALLY affected to finally figuring out that literally a whole city hate you ? Or is this a tantrum evading reality of her's thing ???

She's really finally getting that no one's on her side. She lost Sabrina. Whatever, she's just a lackey. She lost Adrien. Ouch, but like, he'll crawl back to when he figures out how miserable he is without her! She's lost a couple of groupies like Alya and Nadja but who cares about them? They're just jealous.

And then Adrien started dating her rival. And she had no role in the Clara Nightingale music video, as a hero or as her rich popular influential self. Paris isn't fawning the way it used to. Things are looking a bit rocky for Chloe...

But then, like a light in the dark, her mother returns to Paris for the first time in years. And she brought a sister. Just a half-of-a-sister, but a sister: someone almost on her level, someone who on the surface shares her values, someone with a built in reason to love Chloe. Sure there was a little hiccup where Zoe didn't understand Scarlet Lady's worth, but as the big sister it's her role to properly educate Zoe so such faux pas don't happen again. Yes, Chloe is truly generous and wonderful and all she needs is her family, not any of these lesser beings outside her sphere who don't understand her.

Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. Chloe's calling Zoe by her name by "Style Queen" and Zoekins by "Queen Wasp". They're wearing matching jumpsuits, matching bracelets. Chloe wanted this connection.

Chloe believed, incorrectly, that all the praise and admiration that Scarlet Lady got was deserved, was earned, and was proof that Paris really loved her. And it turns out, just like how she believed Zoe was like her and on her side...

She was wrong.

[flowersforchoso]

Bi-han Marriage Headcanons

he takes his role as your husband seriously. perhaps a little too seriously

since he is a traditional man and a bit sexist, expect a very traditional marriage with you relegated to the domestic sphere

he goes straight home after completing his duties as grandmaster. there's no lingering. no extra hours. no night out with anyone. his routine is simple: work, then home & vice-versa.

strictly refers to you as wife while pet names are more of your thing

going out on dates is a rare occurrence (you'd have to bring it up) and when you do, he takes you to a restaurant or festival.

he is not too keen on pda; even holding hands is an issue that makes one wonder how you got together, but he insists you stay close beside him.

in short, he's very much reserved when you're both out in public because he doesn't want to give the impression that he's softened.

but he takes good care of you. being a man of actions afterall.

and since he's your provider & protector, its only right that he excels at it by meeting your material and physical needs

massages are a thing. he does it to help you relax since you always do that whenever he's stressed. starts with your feet, a little tease here and there then it turns into body worship, and ends with you on your back

also bathing together is a must when he's not too busy. its bonding time and wants to spend it refreshed

when you become pregnant, his care intensifies

he takes care of everything around the house, from cooking to cleaning (he's not above doing chores), not allowing you lift a finger

at first, he didn't know how to cook outside of making soup, but he likes to challenge himself. so he gets recipes from madame bo and follows through on them

surprisingly, the meals turn out great

he's much more present at home since he delegated his tasks to be able to spend more time with you

and after you give birth, this doesn't change.

he was with you all through. giving words of encouragement during that agonizing time

the baby is here and he never lets go. whether its a girl or boy, the gender matters not. he cares for the little one so much that he only ever hands them over to you when its time to feed.

if you're having issues with your self-esteem or health like postpartum depression, he will be by your side tending to you. bathe and feed you; if you found it difficult to do basic care. he's worried but would not allow his face betray such emotion.

aids you back to health. you would have to convince him you are well enough to care for yourself, but he would keep monitoring you just to be sure, before leaving to attend to other things.

he is very caring towards you and ensures you're always comfortable.

your marriage is relatively peaceful but that doesn't mean its devoid of conflict

and since bi han is quite stubborn, that would be the source of any rift between the both of you—his obstinacy

it happens every time you express your dissatisfaction with his prioritisation of the lin kuei. they took precedence over his family, making him unavailable and unattending to your emotional needs, which he takes offence to. because they were accusations, and no matter how soft and placating your delivery was, he didn't appreciate it, even if it was true

he makes a big deal out of being told not to take on dangerous missions when he returns injured, which leads to full blown arguments because he considers it infantilizing. he doesn't want to be babied; he commands hundreds. what kind of leader would he be if he didn't take charge of his fleet?

bi han would leave the house for days on end and when he gets back, he's still passive aggressive towards you.

because of this, you give him space but it only worsens his attitude—he doesn't want you to impose distance on him.

he is the classic example of not wanting to be paid back in the same coin. his attitude towards you might be nasty, but don't you dare retaliate

and he doesn't apologize either. it can be frustrating putting up with him.

you'd need to be patient, understanding and respectful of his role as grandmaster because thats a position he's trained all his life for. its a touchy subject. don't try to make him choose between the lin kuei or you

you'd have to extend the olive branch first by apologizing because the tension would be too much to bear

it'll take a while for normalcy to return with bi han coming to you (he's very prideful so don't rush anything)

he'll get you things of sentimental value like a trinket, or a necklace or a bracelet—this is his way of saying sorry

make up sex would be much more passionate because he needs to connect with you again. fighting puts a strain on the relationship no matter how little and makes his insecurities rear its head, one of which is the fear that you might leave him someday and go be with someone else. he doesn't want that, he wants to retrace his steps and do right by you.

it's at this point that he verbally professes his love for you to assuage whatever negative feelings you might harbor and since he rarely ever say the words, they are much more valued

overall, being married to him would be very fulfilling. nothing too crazy or difficult to navigate

[brainless-moe-white-lotus]

The way I understand tiktok is that like, for most of our lives if you were extremely online it was because u were kinda socially isolated irl for some reason, like u were some kinda outsider to the dominant culture for any variety of reasons, and most memes we've grown up with since like the forums to MySpace to tumblr/Reddit to twitter days have been to some degree insular from like, dominant culture, as most socially accepted ppl kinda hung out irl and mostly used social media adjunctively (insta, FB, Snapchat, etc).

Then due to a global pandemic every single person in the world got super online at once, now at the tail end of web2 where they aren't savvy enough to resist being completely taken in by algorithms, so the tiktok algorithm sunk it's talons into every single person and they began to circulate on a much larger scale their own memes and cultural ideas that were shaped by like, the broader dominant culture by people who have largely never had to question their place in society.

Thus tiktok rapidly disseminates bioessentialism, ableism, a paranoid fear of the "criminal", unquestioning and stalwart fixations on the biomedical model of therapy, all repacked for the online sphere of clout chasing via algorithm.

Participation is so ubiquitous that for a person who was online due to social isolation ten years ago, you now get to face an entirely new form of social isolation from your coworkers, family, and classmates as they gawk at the novelty of the fact that you Do Not use tiktok.

The way I understand tiktok is that somewhere between 2019 and now I became a Luddite without really fundamentally changing anything about myself and now have to see web2 metastasising into its final form where hyperavailability of information de-evolves into worsening illiteracy among most ppl I encounter outside my immediate circle of other weirdos.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Congratulations on 1k followers! Your works are amazing, and you deserve it!

Can you do SAGAU, Ranpo (60) with Nahida and Furina (if you don't do both, Nahida is okay)? Plus a child!Reader still recovering from the trauma/abuse prior to the appearance of the BSD cast.

Take care, and keep up your good work!

🎉🎉🎉

Thank you :)

If you were not alone

Part V

Bungou stray dogs character: Self-Aware! Platonic! Ranpo Edogawa

Genshin Impact characters: Platonic! Nahida, Platonic! Furina. Aranaras. Melusines. Small Elynas Cameo.

Reader: Child! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language. Mentions of child abuse, terrible parents.

🕵🏻 Vanarana was quiet tonight. Araja was letting you two stay in his house. Ranpo was thinking about past few days, while you was trying to get dome sleep. You were whimpering in your sleep from time to time, so Ranpo gave you head pats, to ease your fear just for a moment. Ranpo let out a growl. This forsaken Teyvat did everything, to break you completely.

When almost a year ago, back in their old world, he and others learned, that you were a child, they were worried, that "their manga" will scare you. Oh, how they wish, that the manga's events would be the scariest thing in your life.

Ranpo had great memory. And he despised every memory about meeting with your "parents".

Ranpo hated, how, in the eyes of neighbors, they were a normal family. How no one would suspect, that they abuse their own flesh and blood.

Ranpo hated, how they couldn't just get rid of your parents, without raising a suspicion. Without having police on their back.

Ranpo still recall, how you looked when you first met. Scared, thin child, who were hiding behind the door, trembling, at the sight of adults arguing.

Ranpo still recall, when your parents asked for a tidy sum, when they realized that he and others are ready to do anything for you.

Ranpo had never seen such rotten people before. They literally traded you like a commodity...

Bless Karma for taking you and other kids outside, so you didn't witness that scene.

But Ranpo especially hated, the words, your "parents" said to them, after Fitzgerald paid and all of them were ready to leave with you.

"Last piece of advice. Don't expect anything from [Y/N]. Your job in making something out of them will a waste of time. Just bashed them with a shovel. Fertilizers are always will be useful."

In a two month they would prove their statement, when Chuuya and Verlaine would use their abilities to bury that "parents" alive.

🕵🏻 For a year Ranpo and others were taking care of you. They loved you, spoiled you, were kind towards you. They found you a therapist and support you. Small step by small step, you start recovering.

And Teyvat threw almost all of you progress away.

Nightmares, fear and tears have returned.

And Ranpo hated, that he can't completely take them away from you.

He wasn't powerful in terms of raw strength. He was genius and had Poe's book. You two can hide, you two can escape.

But this dumb religious fanatics were ruthless. They followed you and followed you two.

Sometimes, Ranpo wished, that Ayatsuji was with you two. Fellow detective was as protective over you, as every one of them, and "Another" would be a very useful in this world.

If wishes were horses...

There is no need in wishing for something.

Ranpo knew, that you need to return home as soon as possible. He must protect your little sibling.

🕵🏻 When you two reached Sumeru, Ranpo almost lost all hope. You two were hunted, and, despite having some helpers (whose help saved your lives), it doesn't change the fact, that powerful of this world hated you. They hated a child, Ranpo's little sibling.

They were trying to KILL a CHILD by the order of ANOTHER CHILD!

Ranpo's thought were interrupted by a jingle. A little sphere, that Nahida gave him, glow. Soon he heard Dendro Archon's voice.

"Ranpo? Is everything alright?"

Ranpo didn't recognize his voice, when he spat.

"[Y/N], before going to bed, asked if I can deduct, why they deserved to suffer."

Nahida wasn't answering for some time. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

"Ranpo... They are trying to find meaning in suffering. I think, for all their live, they heard, that bad things happens to bad people. And they knew, that they are good. So why..."

Nahida didn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.

Ranpo was quiet. He pet your head, when you whimpered in your sleep again.

Nahida spoke again.

"I asked Aranaras to help [Y/N] with nightmares... They will enter her dreams any moment now. Before that, let's discuss, what I have learned today about Alice's whereabouts."

🕵🏻 In Sumeru, Ranpo's hope bloomed again. Nahida was really helpful. And, thanks for Aranaras' help, your nightmares disappeared. Maybe, you two could peacefully stay in Sumeru, until Alice's next visit?

Ranpo hopped, that it would be the case.

This hopped disappeared in flames, that destroyed Vanarana.

🕵🏻 Merusea Village reminds you and Ranpo about Vanarana. Place, where some strange creatures lived, who were helping hiding you, and local (former) archon, who was helping them.

Ranpo was really grateful for that. Melusines were guarding you two, making sure, that you two are safe. Ranpo heard, how one melusine mentioned, that "father" also wanted to keep you safe.

Furina wasn't a master fighter, but something in her made you feel less afraid. She console you and bring sweets for you and Ranpo.

🕵🏻 Ranpo and Furina were eating their cakes, while you were playing with melusines. Ranpo can't help, but smile through tears. You looked happy. Furina spoke.

"I am glad, that [Y/N] are happy again. Even for a moment..."

Furina's gaze harden.

"And people are asking why I wish, that this creature on the Ivory Throne just rot away. For "The Holiness" sake, people lose every bit of empathy and mind."

Ranpo nodded.

"When we found a way to our world... Our friends might visit this place again. To have a small "talk" about kindness and kids..."

Furina nodded in return.

"Don't forget to punch someone of the Holy Guard for me."

🕵🏻 In a few days, Neuvillette found you. Dragon was ready to destroy the village. Melusines, he was found of. Furina, whose sacrifice saved Fontaine. Ranpo, who wanted to protect you. And you. A simple child, who already had enough violence in your life.

But, some power hold him down.

You were hiding. You wanted to protect Ranpo, Furina and melusines. You wanted to save Nahida and Aranaras.

You wanted to go home.

Your emotions and powers reached their peak.

And The Great Beast Elynas gave you all his powers, so you could reach Nahida's and Aranaras' prisons.

Portal was open.

______

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa expect, that he will find you and Ranpo tied up in some criminals' lair.

Not in their barn, after small earthquake and surrounded by a bunch of vegetable things, faun people, kid with white hair and girl dressed in blue and with a top hat.

🕵🏻 There is a lot of work to do. Nahida, Aranaras, Furina and Melusines heed help adjusting to new world. You need even more support and kindness. But Ranpo wasn't afraid of it. He will help you. He will make sure, that his little sibling will never cry or suffer ever again.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt from the one where Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this.

Only Kal would manage to get his DNA stolen on a planet called “Earth”, of all the godsdamned stupid places.

Might as well just be named “The Planet” or something, she swears. 

“All three it is,” Kara says, waving open her wall storage and grabbing her rice pot out of it. She only has the one because she's never had to cook for anyone else in her life, much less anyone who was staying with her, but she'll make it work. 

Somehow. 

Can't be any worse than pulling off mission-critical military maneuvers in shit conditions with untried and under-trained new recruits, she figures. 

. . . though she is admittedly more prepared for that situation than this one, if it comes to it. 

Look, that’s just experience, alright? She’s been on a thousand maneuvers and missions she didn’t have the resources for, but Kal doesn’t get cloned every day. 

Well, at least not when he’s not on incredibly uncreatively named alien planets, anyway. 

Kara dumps three times the usual amount of rice into her rice pot while Thirteen hovers just outside the kitchen and Match stands very, very still beside him. Neither of them says anything else, though Thirteen looks like he might want to. He seems to be the talker, from what Kara can tell. 

Or at least, he’s the one they’ve designated to be the talker. He asks more questions, and sometimes Match looks at him like he’s expecting him to ask a question. Even if they don’t necessarily get along, they seem to be cooperating at least that much. 

Well, it makes sense. They’re the only other successful Kryptonian-human clones that anyone’s aware of existing, and they know cloning is illegal on Krypton, and Kal isn’t here right now. Who else are they going to rely on when meeting a total stranger? 

Even a total stranger who is, technically, family. 

Or at least arguably, anyway. 

Her house communicator plays a familiar identifying little melody as she’s juggling her spheres of katso sauce and dried spygin in one arm while trying to dig out the last couple of bly fruit she <i>knows</i> she had shoved in the back of her cold storage, which admittedly is a bit cluttered with premade meals right now. Or . . . always, pretty much. 

In her defense, she really doesn’t cook very much. Or very well. Or . . . at all, really, when she can avoid it. 

She’s a grown woman and a decorated general, alright? She doesn’t need to cook if she doesn’t want to. 

“Accept call,” she instructs briskly, and the communicator’s holoscreen materializes to her side. Thirteen startles slightly; Match doesn’t so much as twitch. Doesn’t so much as breathe either, though, so she’s pretty sure he was startled too. At least, that’s the impression she’s been getting from the way he’s reacted to things so far. 

Avoided reacting to things, more like. 

“Oh, look who’s finally calling,” she says, eyeing Kal’s image on her projected screen. He looks just barely harried and the slightest bit sheepish, and she can see a dark-haired woman who’s presumably his new wife sitting behind him in his home office wearing peculiar clothing that is definitely not Kryptonian, but also doesn’t look nearly as indecent as what Thirteen and Match both showed up wearing. She seems occupied with a reader, and keeps activating and deactivating it like she’s never seen anything like it before. 

So probably the wife, yes. Lois Kal-El, née Sam-Lane, according to Kal’s previous calls. Though he also says that humans have slightly different naming schemes than Krypton does. And apparently more varied ones than Krypton does, too. 

Why Kal apparently made sure his grown wife was more appropriately dressed than the children were is beyond her, though.

[wreckedandpolemic]

she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part iii - if we're gonna do anything...

(mdni) hahahahaha... heyyy... been a while huh?

warnings: 18+, drug use, unprotected sex, cheating

Being home is suffocating you. You love your hometown, really, you do, but you’ve gotten so used to reaching out and grasping a starless London night that the stickers on your ceiling feel mocking. Like you’ve stepped back into the body of the girl whose room this used to be, and her skin is two sizes too small. Every time your mother reprimands you for being out late, or swearing, or smoking, you remind yourself that you’re five minutes closer to being back in London, hundreds of miles away and outside your family’s sphere of control. 

Being with Matty is different, though. He tugs you out of that too-tight skin, leaves you loose-limbed and free. You tell him as much, laying back against his wrinkled, black sheets, a joint burning down between his fingers and smoke hanging in the air. His answering smile is gorgeous, big and bright and a little dopey from the weed. A slow song you can’t pin down crackles from his vintage record player. “Shotgun?” he offers, and you grin, straddling him as he fills his lungs with smoke. Your lips hover over his, your hair falling in a curtain around your faces, shrouding you in fitting secret. He blows the smoke into your waiting mouth and you inhale greedily, certain a faint taste of him lingers in your lungs. You lift your head to exhale, blowing rings just to show off.

He stubs the joint out on his bedframe and flings the roach into the corner of his room, planting both his hands firmly on your hips. You’re crossing that line again; your feet have swept across it so many times since you came home that it’s faded from an all-encompassing warning bell to a faint, familiar tick. You press a kiss to his lips, savouring his responding giggle, your high wrapping the pair of you in a blanket that muffles the outside world. His arms snake around your back, tracing soothing circles over your skin. You relax into his chest, the warmth of his skin soaking into yours. Time drips over you like honey and you don’t know how long you lay like that, relaxed in his embrace.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs absently, petting your hair.

You kiss his chest softly, praise spinning in your slow-moving mind like a coin set on its edge. “Flatterer,” you reply, his gaze kindling a spark in your chest. The album ends, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment before fading away. The silence is tender, pleasant. Matty shifts, freeing his arm from under you and you whine, clinging feebly onto him as he rolls off the bed.

You watch him pick his way across his messy room to where his guitar leans against his bookshelf, smiling softly when he picks it up. He sits cross-legged, back against the wall, cradling the guitar lovingly in his lap. He strums idly, chords humming sweetly in the warm air and washing comfortably over you. “Mind if I play you something, love?”

“Please,” you reply, sitting up so you can see him properly. He teases a few more notes from the strings, then sings along in a low, quiet voice. You’re a little too stoned to process the individual words, but you know intrinsically that he’s singing to you, for you, about you. A solid lump of emotion rises in your throat, your cotton-mouth too dry to swallow it back down.

The song ends after some indeterminate amount of time, its linear passage having escaped you long ago. “D’you like it?” he asks, and you nod. It’s just about the loveliest thing you’ve ever heard; the romance of this tortured artist so dichotomous from what you’re used to. “Good,” he says shortly. “‘Cause otherwise that would’ve been well embarrassing.” Turning to start another record, he takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, unfamiliarly and uncharacteristically nervous. “This isn’t, um… We’re having fun, right?”

You tilt your head at him, hazy brain preventing you from reading his tone. “Yeah. ‘Course we are.” You turn a sleazy, charming grin on him, one you realise you learned from him. “Why?”

He smiles at you, a sweet, lovely thing, a far cry from the filthy, teasing smirks you’re used to. “I just…” He shakes his head as you fascinate yourself twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Never mind. You’re so stoned.” He huffs a fond laugh and props the guitar back up against the bookshelf.

A dazed laugh bubbles up out of your throat. “Yep,” You pop the ‘p’ loudly, smacking your lips so the noise repeats over and over. “Fuck, your shit is so strong. I feel like my bones are glue. Does that make sense?”

He crawls back up the bed next to you, slipping a hand under your shirt to stroke fond circles into your skin. “No,” he laughs. “But you’re cute,” he adds.

“So are you,” you say, poking the tip of his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the way his face scrunches in response. He kisses you lazily, tongue sweeping your mouth in slow, languid strokes; he kisses you just to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair and smiling against your mouth.

Time passes, your head clears, the platter spins and the sun sinks lower in the sky. It’s dusk by the time you peel yourself out of Matty’s bed and shrug your jacket back on. You’re regretful, gathering your things slowly, casting doleful looks at the warmth of his bed as you inch toward the door. “Just stay, love,” Matty tells you, grinning at the relief on your face.

You don’t bother double-checking, just dropping your bag and jacket and falling back into bed with him. “Thank you, darling,” you grin, pressing your lips against his just to feel them warm on your skin. “You and me, alone together in bed all night… whatever will we get up to?” you tease, hands wandering over his chest playfully.

“I have a few ideas,” he smirks, hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing. You tug his shirt off his body, kissing your way down his bare chest. His hand catches yours as you go to unbutton his jeans and you look up at him curiously before pressing a palm against his clothed dick. “C’mon, love. We’ve got all night. Right now, I wanna make you feel so good you forget his fucking name.”

Your thighs clench at his words; the possessiveness in his tone grips you. “Fuck, Matty,” you whine, sudden heat flooding your body and pooling at your core. “Off, off, now,” you whine, yanking off his jeans and boxers in one motion and wrapping your hand around his hardening cock. It’s almost a reversal of last time; in Matty’s room, now, his skin bare while you’re clothed. Slowly, you pump his cock again, relishing the way his hips twitch under your touch.

You kick off your own jeans and crawl back up the bed, leaning towards Matty as he roams his hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Deft fingers work at the clasp of your bra and pinch your nipple as you slip the fabric off your body. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, gazing intently at your bare tits.

Sitting up, Matty climbs on top of you, kissing you hard and tracing a finger over the outside of your panties. A shiver runs through you and you grind against his hand, the fabric of your underwear scraping deliciously over your clit. You slide down the pillows so the pair of you are horizontal, looking up and losing yourself for a second in Matty’s big, brown eyes, liquid pools of fathomless desire. He tugs your panties down your legs, rubbing slow circles into your clit and swallowing your responding moan with a kiss. “Shit, Matty, come on,” you whine, rolling your hips against him.

“We have all night, love. Don't you wanna take it slow?” he murmurs, speeding up his motions at your clit. Liquid pleasure drips down your spine, blooming hot in your veins. A whine falls from your lips as he slips a finger into you, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he sets a torturously slow rhythm.

You groan. He’s so devoted to dragging everything out, insisting on toying with every encounter; you’re aching for it already. “No,” you retort. “Shut up and fuck me.” Weak bursts of heat rattle through you, insufficient, ramping up your desire as you kiss Matty desperately.

“So impatient,” he tuts, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and dropping his head to kiss your neck. “How do you want it?” he murmurs against your skin. Your stomach clenches at his words, unused to the care he takes with you, his lips reverent on your skin, awaiting your cue.

“Fast,” you gasp, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he slides another finger into you, the stretch between your thighs burning deliciously. “Hard,” you add, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his cock. “Come on, Matty, wanna come on your cock so bad,” His dick twitches in your palm and his jaw goes slack, desire burning in his gaze.

Matty pulls his fingers out of you, drawing them into his mouth and sucking your arousal off his skin. “Open up, love,” he instructs, spitting in your mouth when you drop your jaw for him. You swallow obediently, the taste of you sliding down your throat deliciously. Climbing off you, he lines his cock up with your entrance, teasing. “You ready?”

Nodding wildly, you clench your cunt and roll your hips, chasing the pleasure he holds just out of your reach. “Fuck me, please,” you whine, tangling a hand in his hair and tugging harshly, relishing the soft whimper he lets out. Finally, Matty enters you, the stretch divine in your cunt. He gasps as you clench around him, coaxing him deeper. “Harder,” you beg, digging your nails into his back and matching his thrusts with your hips to force him deeper into you.

“Whatever you want, love,” he grins. “Gotta give it to you just the way you want it before your little boyfriend gets his pathetic hands on you again,” he promises, the flash of guilt at the reminder of your sin indetectable against the waves of sweet bliss rolling over you. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you wildly. Your pulse thrums in your cunt, cries falling from your lips as he thrusts impossibly deep into you.

“Shh, not so loud, sweetheart,” Matty murmurs against your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. Your head spins, drunk on him, liquid heat coiling in your veins and melting you in his hands. Euphoria pools in your belly, blood pumping faster and faster, your hips meeting slick and sweet. “That feel good?” You nod fervently, incoherent whines falling from your lips.

You writhe under him. “Matty,” you whine. “Matty, please, fuck–” you gasp, voice breaking on the last syllable as he strikes oh-so-perfectly inside you. “Oh, God,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough to puncture skin. His hand comes down to tease at your clit, callused fingers deliciously rough against your swollen nerves. “Matty, please, please, please,” you whine, hips jolting involuntarily to chase the sweet, sharp bursts of pleasure that ricochet through you.

“Are you close, love?” he asks, his pace stuttering as his control slips.

“Yeah, fuck,” you murmur between soft moans. Matty redoubles his efforts, pressure mounting between your legs, coiling tighter and tighter as you cling to him, lips meeting in a messy imitation of a kiss. He strikes your clit just right, and you scream, heat racing through your blood and sparks exploding behind your eyelids. Euphoria burns you from the inside out, your cunt clenching around him desperately. A pained whine escapes you as he pulls out of you, spilling across your stomach with a groan. Your chest heaves as you gasp for breath, coasting on your high. Matty collapses next to you, breathing hard, and grins over at you wickedly.

Matching his grin, you drag a finger through the mess on your belly and suck it off, swirling your tongue around your finger exaggeratedly. Matty snatches your hand away and kisses you deeply. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yes,” you giggle against his mouth. “Is it working?” He nods almost imperceptibly, something intense shining in his eyes that you don’t quite want to understand. You cast your gaze anywhere else, and he clears his throat sheepishly. “I’m, uh, gonna go get cleaned up,” you say, wincing at the cliche as you pad into his bathroom.

Whatever lingering awkwardness you might’ve feared has dissipated by the time you return, cocking your head quizzically at his pose; propped up against the headboard, arms behind his head. “About that blowjob… What?” he complains as you burst into laughter. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “I heard it as soon as I said it.” You climb back into bed next to him, resting your head on his bare shoulder.

Kissing at his neck, you taste the light sheen of sweat on his skin. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease, climbing over him and settling between his legs. “And that I’m generous.”

The sound of your phone clattering to the floor startles you awake. Blinking blearily, you comb a hand through your sleep-tangled hair. Twelve missed calls from your mum, three from your dad and… oh shit, seventeen from your boyfriend. “Matty,” you hiss, slapping his leg frantically from your position on the floor. “Matty!”

“Huh, what?” he murmurs groggily, stirring to peer down at you from the bed.

“I forgot Michael was coming up from London this morning!” you gasp, frantically hunting for your clothes, the enormity of the last few days suddenly in shocking clarity. Your phone buzzes at your feet as you wrestle with your bra, fingers shaking too much to close the clasps. The caller ID flashes his name, and you draw a trembling breath.

“Want some help?” Matty teases, and despite yourself, you do. You nod despairingly, his warm hands at your back a comfort even now. “It’ll be okay, love,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. His touch warms you through, your body melting instinctively against his. God. You are well and truly fucked.

[cepheustarot]

What awaits you in February?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: The first half of February will be calm for you, you will have everything stable in all spheres of life. If you have had problems in any area or in any situation, they will be resolved safely. You can improve your health in this month, you will sleep more often, more often spend time with yourself or others (if you did not have enough). You can also meet your family, you can go somewhere together and it will be a pleasant time for you, the days with family or close people will leave pleasant memories for you or at least will lift your mood. 

Coming up, this month, you will have unexpected news, unexpected offer and opportunity. In short, you will be offered two options that can greatly influence your plans, can bring you new experiences and overall can bring you closer to realizing your dream. You will also take this seriously and responsibly, as it will all depend on you. But always choose what your heart tells you. 

At the end of the month, you’re going to be participating in some kind of event, maybe it’s going to be volunteer work, or you’re going to be giving your lectures, you’re going to give courses for people, maybe you’re going to be performing on stage for people. You can also come to someone’s lectures (outside of school/work) or come to a meeting with people who you admire and inspire you. 

Pile 2: Frankly speaking, you will have a depressed, sad mood throughout the month, you may face apathy, irritability or your mood will change very often. At the beginning of the month a situation will happen that you could not have imagined that it would happen: perhaps you will quarrel with an important person for you and stop communicating, or you will be strongly framed by a person who feels dislike for you, or your plans will collapse and this will lead you mislead, since you have no idea what to do next, you were literally burning with your idea, and now everything has turned out differently.

Next, you will decide for yourself that the best thing to do now is to take a break, move away from the consequences of the situation, restore your strength and your health. Here you can close yourself off from people and start spending more time with yourself, go somewhere far from the place of residence, get new emotions and strength. In general, you can discover new places or discover new hobbies. All of this will help you on your path to healing, but I can’t say yet that it will put you back on your feet,  but it will contribute to that. You can also buy yourself everything that you wanted, but could not buy for some reason, you will please yourself here in any way. 

At the end of the month, you’ll feel better, your irritability will be minimized, you’ll start opening up to people, reconnecting with someone. In general, you will feel that you are ready to return to the usual rhythm of life, and some will completely decide to change something in your life, to start from scratch. 

Pile 3: At the beginning of the month, you may quarrel or you may have a misunderstanding with your father, your brother, your friend or your lover, in general, there will be a situation related to a male person close to you. Perhaps he will not compromise with you or do something wrong, as you told him, and therefore you will have a conflict situation that will make you worry. But fortunately, this situation will be resolved, you will find a way out of it, the person will meet you and everything will end well for the two of you.

Further, during the month there may be many holidays, important events to which you will be invited and at which you will be present. It will be generally fun days, where you get a lot of positive emotions and pleasant memories, you can these days get very close to someone or meet new people with whom you will have a friendly dialogue. In general, you will feel good here. 

At the end of the month you may have problems at work/school, in particular it will be related to the team. You may work together on a project or have a group activity, but your group or team will consist of completely different people with different views. This can prevent you from working smoothly, work as a team, as you may have disputes about any little things. As I see it, in the end you will decide to disband the team or move to another one altogether, where you will not have quarrels and misunderstandings.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[cameronspecial]

Soccer Star

Pairing: Dad!Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Zach returns home with something for his daughter and he is very excited for her to see it.

Masterlist

“Baby, Baby. Look at what I got Louise,” Zach yells, running into the living room with a shopping bag in his hands. Y/N places her finger to her lips, “Shh. She is sleeping, Babe. What did you get her?” He joins her on the couch and turns toward her. His hand reaches into the paper bag and pulls out the first box. She takes it into her hands, opening the lid to find small cleats. “Zach, these are cute. But she just started running. Plus, we don’t even have a soccer ball,” she notes. At the last word, he pulls out another box with a small ball inside. “Already, thought about it, Baby. I’m going to go wake her up so I can teach her. It’s really nice outside.” “Babe, she needs to nap,” Y/N protests, chasing after him. She is too late though. He is already in the toddler’s room and shakes his daughter awake. “Hey, Kiddo. Daddy has something for you,” he whispers to the soon-to-be cranky girl waking up. Her eyes light up at the mention of the gift, “Yay!” 

He takes the girl into his arms and carries her into the backyard. He sits on the patio couch, helping her put on the tiny cleats. Louise wiggles out of his hold and tests out her new shoes. She stumbles a little but gets the handle of it once she gets on the grass. “Ball,” the eighteen-month-old girl asks with grabby hands. Zach chuckles and takes the ball out of the box. He motions for her to come toward him, “Come on, Kiddo. Daddy is going to teach you how to play soccer.” Louise waddles over to him and leans her back against her father’s chest. He places the ball in front of her. She stares at it for a second before leaning over to try to pick it up. 

Zach’s hand darts out to stop her and drops it back onto the floor. “No, Kiddo. You don’t use your hands in soccer. You have to use your feet,” he advises. One of his hands goes around her waist and the other brings her right foot back to kick the ball. He guides the motion of her foot and the ball rolls away from them. Excitement crosses her face and Louise starts clapping her hands. She runs after it to kick it again. Zach’s heart warms up and he walks after her. He steals the sphere away from her, which causes her to giggle. She runs after her father and is able to take the ball back from him. Y/N comes out to watch her boyfriend and daughter play soccer. A smile forms on her face as she watches them race against each other. She uses her phone to take a video of her family. She eventually joins them on the grass. “Can Mommy join you guys?” she questions the pair, heading toward the ball. Louise enthusiastically nods and speeds toward her mother for a hug. Y/N picks up Louise, kissing her cheek. Zach comes over to them, “I want to hug you too.” His arms wrap around his girls and gives them each a kiss to the temple. “We won’t have to worry about paying for university. Our little soccer star is going to get a scholarship.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[vaarians]

List of Terms: Chiss Ascendency Edition

(If I missed anything, please add in reblogs; I feel like I've forgotten stuff. Some of these are just assumptions based on the context around them.)

For all your Chiss Ascendency writing/roleplaying needs:

General Terms

Cheunh - Chiss Language

Minnisiat - Trade Language

Tybroic - Ancient language of the Stybla

Chaos - Name for the Unknown Regions by a native

Lesser Space - Main part of the Star Wars Galaxy

Syndicure - main governing body

Nine Ruling Families - head ruling body

Comm - Phone

Questis - Tablet

Data Cylinder - Storage Device

Univers - Universal Currency in the Chaos

Credit Chit - Money

Tube Car - Type of rail transport

Tube Car station - Rail Station

Skycar - Car

Skytruck - Truck

Dayroom - Sitting Room

Yapel - Waffles

Striped Fruit Squares - Poptarts

Nutpaste - a Nut Butter or Spread

Caccoleaf - coffee

Galara tealeaf - tea

Grillig-Juice packet - Capri Sun

Cooker - Oven/Stove

Nyix - Thicker metal used mainly in war ship building

Star Day - Birthday

Lurestick - electronic catch pole

Communication Triad - Three Poled device used to transmit communications across the Chaos. The bigger the Triad, the longer range the communication.

Animals

Yubals - Cows

Packbulls - a different breed of Cow? Donkey? Horse?

Whisperbird - hummingbird

Stingfly - Bee?

Whiskercub - Domesticated Cat

Groundlion - Big Cat

Growzer - Domesticated Dog

Firewolf - Type of Wild Dog

Blinkbirds - Hawk or Predator Bird

Nighthunter - Large constrictor serpent-like creature

Military Terms

Breacher - Missile with acid inside of it

Plasma Sphere - glop of fluid used to disable ships

Spectrum Lasers - Turbolasers tuned to a ship's electrostatic barrier frequency

Crippler Nets - electronic nets used to cripple ships electronics systems

Electrostatic Barrier - Type of ship shield

Gunboat - Starfighter

Missile boat - Starfighter

Heavy Cruiser - Destroyer type warship

Light Cruiser - Smaller warship

Patrol Cruiser - Smaller warship

Nightdragon Man of War - Largest Ship in the Fleet

Defense Fleet - Stays inside the Ascendency Border

Expansionary Defense Fleet - Protects the Ascendency from outside the limits of the Ascendency

Family Fleet - Fleets supplied by one of the Nine Ruling families

Military Ranks

Enlisted Ranks

Cadet

Senior Cadet

Junior Warrior

Mid-Warrior

Senior Warrior

Lieutenant

Lieutenant-Commander

Junior Commander

Mid-Commander

Senior Commander

Junior Captain

Mid-Captain

Senior Captain

Flag Ranks

Commodore

Mid-General

Mid-Admiral

General

Admiral

Senior General

Fleet Admiral

Supreme General

Supreme Admiral

Political Ranks

Patriarch - head of family

Speaker - head of family in the Syndicure

Syndic Prime - head syndic

Syndic - member of the Syndicure

Patriel - handles family business on the planetary scale

Councilor - handles family business on the local level

Aristocra - mid-level member of the Nine Ruling families

Family Ranks

Merit Adoptive

Trial-Born

Ranking Distant

Cousin

Blood

Ruling Families

Ufsa

Irizi

Dasklo

Clarr

Chaf

Plikh

Boadil

Mitth

Obbic

Forty Great Families

Xodlak

Kiwu

Pommrio

Erighal

Stybla

Sayings

"Son of a growzer," - Son of a bitch

[transmutationisms]

hi could you elaborate on why you don't think emotional labour is useful for analyzing interpersonal relationships? do you think there are contexts in which it is a useful tool? thank you for your time!

every human interaction involves managing and regulating one's persona and emotions. the reason to single out the way that this happens in a workplace (this is what the "labour" part of the term initially referred to) is because wage labour is the basis of a specific type of relation formed between capitalist (purchaser of labour-power) and worker (estranged from the products of their labour; selling their labour as a commodity). the value imo of the term "emotional labour" is to draw attention to the way that the material circumstance of estranged labour demands an affective performance from many workers. the resultant estrangement that a worker may experience from their own emotional state is part of the larger historical process of alienation that culminates (thus far) in the social form of wage labour.

it is of course true that the emotional and affective regulation people engage in outside of the workplace can also be alienating and exhausting, and it's definitely true that it is demanded more of some people than of others (particularly along lines of race and gender). i just don't think it's particularly useful to analyse ALL instances of emotional regulation or persona management in a way that ignores what makes the position of the waged labourer distinct.

similarly, when we talk about instances of domestic and reproductive labour that occur within the 'private sphere' of the family and are therefore unwaged and occurring without an employer-employee relationship, we specify that. it's still labour and is in fact crucial to capitalist production. but the distinction between an employer-employee relationship (characterised, again, by the purchasing of labour-power as a commodity) and other relationships (which may still be exploitative, alienating, or otherwise shitty or miserable) matters, and analysis that ignores that distinction is likely to become imprecise and trite very quickly.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Some remade ghoul headcanons, because my lore is everchanging. Let's go.

-It's a well known fact that Dew is a hybrid, but the exact elemental shake out isn't as simple as half water, half fire. Physically, he has more traits associated with water ghouls; Gills, scales, a thicker tail for moving through the water, etc., but his magic is primarily fire based.

However, the main reason he's not completely 50/50, is because one of his mother's parents was an air ghoul, so he's really half water and then an equal measure of fire and air.

This technically classifies him as a multi-ghoul rather than a hybrid, but he has no air ghoul traits, so he rarely, if ever, brings it up.

-Rain is from Limbo -as is Zephyr- which isn't really considered part of Hell proper, but it exists within the same "sphere". It's a bit like being from a small town outside of a major city.

However, despite being from Limbo, Rain's family is pretty well connected in the depths, and there's rumors going around in the pit about them being somehow related to Lucifer himself, but Rain can neither confirm nor deny these claims.

-Mountain used to be human, but he committed "a terrible sin" in life and was thrown into the pit to undergo punishment for what he had done.

During his time in the pit, he did reflect upon his crimes, but even he isn't sure he truly deserves the freedom he has now, despite centuries having past.

And lastly;

-Swiss is half human, and was raised on the surface, so his knowledge of Hell and what it means to be a ghoul is minimal.

He knows the basics and pays attention during mass, but he's not exactly a practicing Satanist, and people are often perplexed as to how this is possible.

It's simple really; He doesn't care about/for the rigmarole, and he thinks his time is better used doing things he actually wants or needs to do instead of sitting in church.

He does the dark lord proud.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

In The Cold, Cold Night: Chapter One

pairing: cowboy/frontier!joel miller x oc (Dorothea) / unrequited tommy miller

rating: M (talks of death, bordellos, gender constructs, other wild west things, tommy is a cocky flirt)

wc: 7.2k

series masterlist | playlist

It was a hot and dry spring in Texas, the corn fields out in front of the Mackey family farmhouse dying underneath the brutal and unforgiving sun. John Mackey, the patriarch of his small, humble family, tried his best to conceal his worry over the season’s meager harvest, but his wife, Jessa, and his eldest child, Dorothea, or Dottie as her family called her, had a unique ability to see right through his hardened exterior to the vulnerable, frightened man inside.

Although she was a grown woman, her twenty-fourth birthday passing just seven months prior, Dorothea chose not to venture out from her parent’s watch like all the other girls in their small town had done years before. She liked the predictability of home—the sound of her father’s work boots hitting the hardwood after a long day in the field, the smell of her mother’s cooking, the loud chatter of her five younger brothers as they ran around the house and farm like they were wild animals. Though a part of her did crave more, it was a small enough part that she could ignore, fixing her brown eyes instead on taking care of the things she already had.

“Daddy!” James, the youngest of the clan at only six years, came hurtling into the kitchen as his father sat at the dinner table sipping on a fresh cup of black coffee, Jessa Mackey and Dorothea standing at the sink scrubbing this morning’s dishes. “Look what the lady at the store gave me and Ed.”

“Let me see what’cha got,” the gruff man said, lowering his cup and newspaper to the tabletop as he fixed his attention on his son.

James wore a wide, boyish grin as he reached into the front pocket of his dirty, denim overalls and pulled out a burlap sack, his tiny fingers pulling the drawing string loose so that he could dump out the contents on top of his father’s morning news.

“Well, what’s all this, now?” John said, catching a few of the tiny glass spheres as they began to roll off the uneven table.

“Marbles,” he said, full of wonder and excitement. “She even taught me how to play with ‘em.”

“Can you teach me?” he asked, setting the handful of marbles into the little boy’s hand.

“I forgot,” he smiled bashfully. “But Eddie—“

“I didn’t ask Eddie, now did I?” John smiled back. “Come on, figure it out. You learned once, you can remember.”

“Oh, will you leave him be,” Jessa scolded lightly, chuckling at her husband’s insistence as she walked over, drying her hands on a cloth before throwing it over her shoulder. “Where’s your brother?”

“Outside playin’ with Sarah,” James said, looking up at his mother with round eyes as she carded her fingers through his dust-covered brown hair.

“Who’s Sarah?” Dorothea asked as she dried her hands off on her apron, her brows stitching together.

“She’s new ‘round here,” her youngest brother replied. “She ain’t got any friends—“

“Doesn’t have,” John corrected, lifting his newspaper back up.

“How old is she?” Jessa asked.

“My age,” the boy said, a big toothy smile on his face. “May I go play with ‘em, mama?”

“Yeah, go on,” Jessa smiled and watched as her son ran out of the room with his bag of marbles in hand, the wicker screen door slamming against the wooden frame of the old home as he bolted through it. “I gotta talk to Maggie about givin’ him new toys every time I send ‘em over.”

“She likes it,” Dorothea interjected. “Can’t have babies of her own, it only makes sense she spoils everyone else’s.”

“Don’t matter,” Jessa took a seat at the table to rest her aching feet. “We don’t need another tab.”

John’s eyes lifted to meet his wife as if he were daring her to continue.

“If that girl’s new, maybe I should bake a pie and take it over to her mama and daddy,” Dorothea suggested, sensing the building tension. “We got some blueberries that’ll turn any day now.”

“Sure, honey, go on,” John said, looking back to his paper.

“Don’t use more than y’have to, Dot,” Jessa ordered. “I need flour to make biscuits for supper.”

“I’ll only use what I need, ma,” Dorothea promised with a saintly smile, flashing her emerald green eyes at her mother before heading into the pantry to start out on her baking.

“Daddy!” Sarah’s squeal could be heard from a mile away, causing her father, Joel, to turn his head in the direction of the dirt road, spotting his daughter riding on the handlebars of of a brand new, candy red-painted bicycle, his younger brother pedaling towards the opened gate of their farm. “Look what Uncle Tommy got!”

Joel shook his head at the needless expense as he watched them ride up to where he stood near the porch, his white cotton shirt soaked down his spine from spending the better half of the afternoon fixing the old wooden steps.

“You ain’t got nothin’ better to spend your money on?” Joel asked as they came to a skid in front of him, Sarah hopping off the handlebars and skipping up to her father’s side to hug his hip, his hand smoothing her wild curls out of her face. “Where you been all day, missy? Out causin’ trouble?”

“I made friends with some boys down the road,” she replied, looking up at her father as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Boys, huh?” he asked, his tone playful. “You ain’t old enough to be hangin’ around any boys.”

“But daddy, they’re sweet,” she insisted, rounding her hazel eyes at him and poking out her bottom lip for good measure. Joel smiled and nodded, rubbing his hand across her shoulders.

“I’m just kiddin’, baby girl,” he assured. “What did y’all get up to?”

“We played cowboys on their farm,” she beamed. “I got to be the sheriff.”

“You know me and your daddy used to be cowboys?” Tommy said, leaning against the post of the porch.

“Well, I would’a caught you,” she said, tilting her chin up in confidence.

“Alright, sheriff, why don’t you go inside and wash off all this dirt before supper?” Joel ordered, patting her back as she begrudgingly obeyed her. “Cheer up, I’m makin’ your favorite.”

“Chicken soup?” she squealed again.

“You got it,” he nodded before waving at her to head into the house like he’d asked.

“If you’re gonna yell, yell,” Tommy sighed, taking a seat on the second step.

“I ain’t gonna yell,” Joel sat down with him. “But you can’t be goin’ around town showin’ off and spendin’ like that. We don’t need people pryin’ into our business and gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“It ain’t a crime to be a bounty hunter,” Tommy argued.

“Not when you’re workin’ for the law, but you and I both know we were about as far from the law as we could get,” Joel said. “Just don’t want people treatin’ Sarah bad because of what we did to make ends meet. That’s why we had to leave the last place, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy nodded. “I just saw it and thought it would make droppin’ Sarah off at the schoolhouse easier on me, s’all.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna make you take it back,” Joel said, offering a soft smile, bumping his brother’s shoulder with his own. “Just…talk to me before you go out and buy somethin’ that pretty next time, alright? I might want one for myself.”

“Well, speaking’ of pretty,” Tommy nudged his chin forward in the direction of the gate, Joel’s eyes following his eyeline until he saw what he was so fixed on. Tan, freckled skin, a head of chocolate brown waves thrown up messily, a pair of bright green eyes and an equally bright smile heading up the dirt path to the porch.

“She here for you?” Joel whispered to his brother.

“I certainly hope so,” Tommy replied with a smile.

“Hi, y’all, sorry to interrupt,” the unfamiliar face greeted them as she reached the bottom of the steps, both men staring at her with a mixture of confusion and awe. “I’m Dorothea. My little brothers were playin’ with your sister earlier, and I thought I’d bring a pie over to welcome y’all to the town.”

“Sister?” Tommy asked, fixing a charming smile onto his face. “No sister here, but we’ll be glad to take that pie off your hands.”

“Oh,” she furrowed her brows in confusion. “I’m sorry, I guess I must’a—“

“You talkin’ about Sarah?” Joel spoke up, drawing her eyes to meet his.

“Yeah, I think that’s what her name was.”

“That’s my daughter,” he smiled.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry, I thought—you look young, so I just thought—“

“No need to apologize,” he assured, standing up and unintentionally towering over her as he walked down the steps. “I had her young; I’m used to it by now.”

Dorothea smiled softly and nodded, her eyes lowering to the pie in her hands rather than at his dark, round eyes.

“Well, this is for y’all, then,” she said, holding the pie out for him to take.

“Thank you,” he accepted it and lifted the cloth covering the top, bringing the pie close to his nose. “Smells great.”

“It’s a family recipe,” she said. “I can give it to your wife if she’s around?”

“Oh—no,” Joel tensed, his smile faltering. “She, uh, she passed givin’ birth to Sarah.”

“Oh,” Dorothea’s eyes turned soft and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assured, flickering his eyes over to his brother who remained watching their new friend with eager eyes. “We’re about to have supper, you could join us? Let us repay you for the pie?”

“Oh, I wish I could, but my mama’s makin’ biscuits and gravy tonight and she’d throw a fit if I stayed out past dark,” Dorothea said, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Well, you’re always welcome,” Joel shrugged. “Your brothers, too. I’m sure Sarah would love it if her new friends stopped by.”

“I’ll let ‘em know,” she smiled. “Well, I should be goin’.”

“You need a ride?” Tommy asked, standing up.

“Oh, no,” she giggled. “I like the walk, gives me a little time away from all the noise.”

“Alright,” Tommy smiled. “You said your name was Dorothy?”

“Dorothea,” Joel corrected.

“That’s right,” she chuckled. “And y’all are?”

“I’m Tommy, he’s Joel,” Tommy said.

“Well, Tommy, Joel,” she smiled as she turned her eyes from Tommy to meet Joel’s again. “It was nice meetin’ y’all. Enjoy that pie.”

“I’m sure we will,” Joel smiled. “Get home safe, now.”

“Everybody knows not to mess with me,” she smirked as she began backing her way towards the gate.

“That so?” he smirked.

“Yep,” she giggled. “Bye now!”

“Bye,” Tommy called, waving at her as she turned around and started down the road in the direction she came. “What a looker.”

“She wasn’t lookin’ at you,” Joel teased.

“What, you think she was lookin’ at you?”

“No,” he replied defensively as he started up the steps. to head into the house, Tommy trailing closely behind.

“You got a crush, old man?”

“Twenty-eight ain’t old,” Joel argued, setting the pie down on the dinner table.

“Older than me,” Tommy quipped. “Older than her.”

“Alright, well since you’re so young and spry, why don’t you go out back and fetch us some milk for supper, charmer?” Joel teased, grabbing the cloth from the pie and swatting it at his younger brother.

It was Sunday afternoon, Joel and Tommy finished with the week’s chores and labor, Sarah skipping down the road with them as they made their way to town to look around at the shops and stands.

Joel, as always, kept his pistol tucked into the holster on his belt, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any potential trouble while desperately hoping none found him.

Joel had lived a lot of life in his twenty-eight years. He started out as a ranch hand to his father, Tommy just old enough to form a sentence while his older brother was expected to go out and tend to the horse, sheep, and cows at five in the morning. School wasn’t a priority to his parents, but learning to take care of the ranch was, to them, as essential to living as breathing.

Joel was fifteen when his father passed from typhoid fever, his mother following shortly after getting caught in the middle of a shoot out in town, leaving him to not only take care of the ranch, but his eleven year old brother as well.

Two years later, Joel and Tommy got swept up in the bounty hunting lifestyle after seeing how much the sheriff was offering for an outlaw on a wanted poster. They bid their ranch goodbye, packed up what little they had, and rode off into the desert to start anew, not knowing a single thing about what was to come.

Though their endeavors started out lawful, a then-seventeen year old Tommy quickly grew bored of their meager earnings and convinced Joel to abandon the lawful bounty hunting in favor of working with outlaws, the two of them hunting out sheriffs and their own people instead.

This was how Joel met Sarah’s mother at the young age of twenty-one. She was ten years older than him, working in a bordello Tommy insisted on staying at for the night during one of their hunts. Joel was hesitant at first, but quickly found his footing once he spotted her across the room. She had dark skin, rich, brown eyes, and a figure like he’d never seen before. He was already hooked then, but once their visits grew more frequent, he realized it was more than just a drunken lust he felt for the woman. He loved her. And when she fell pregnant with his child, Joel took her down to the town church and married her before riding off again to go on his next hunt. He only saw her two more times before Sarah came, and then she was gone.

Joel tried to go back to his old life, but found it difficult to do what he needed to do with a baby in tow. The boys settled down in Utah for a while, but Tommy’s antics at the local saloon had them packing up and heading west to California. Tommy had some luck there panning for gold, but just as quickly as the last time, he got into a brawl and the three of them were forced back on the road. It went like this for a while, up until just a few months ago when they were talked out of moving out of their old family ranch by a wealthy man looking to buy it for a handsome sum, the money too appealing for Joel to decline.

That’s how they ended up here in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas.

Joel liked it here. It was quiet, there wasn’t any trouble, and everyone seemed to have an understanding that this place was for families, somewhere safe to keep your children in the midst of all this shooting and debauchery. Joel wanted to stay here, but there was a nagging voice every time he looked over at his reckless younger brother that told him it was only a matter of time before they’d have to pack it all up again and run off. He hoped this time, Tommy would learn his lesson.

“Daddy, can I go look at the flowers?” Sarah chimed as they reached the booming Main Street, her little finger pointing at a flower cart.

“Yeah, but don’t go runnin’ off too far,” he said, keeping a watchful eye on her as she skipped towards the daisies.

“I’m gonna go see about that wheelbarrow,” Tommy said, nudging his head in the direction of an old man’s roadside stand of junk.

“Anything that keeps you outta the saloon,” Joel said, his eyes still locked on his daughter as she chatted the ear off of the older woman selling flowers.

“Robert, you better stay out of there!”

Joel’s attention was turned in the direction of a faintly familiar voice calling down the street. There he spotted Dorothea, surrounded by five boys ranging from Sarah’s age to somewhere around her own. The eldest looking boy, Robert he assumed, waved her off as he continued ahead of them into the saloon and bordello, leaving her fuming as she tried to corral the three youngest to follow her while the second oldest followed in his brother’s footsteps.

“Dottie, look! It’s Sarah!” the youngest squealed, his finger pointing down the road at Sarah who was getting a flower pinned in her curls. “Can I go say hi?”

“Yeah, just stay where I can see ya,” she said, watching as all three boys ran off in Sarah’s direction.

Joel cleared his throat as he felt obligated to go over and say hello, but Dorothea spotted him first and gave him a polite nod from down the road before turning to head into the general store. A strange pang of disappointment hit him in the chest at her lack of interaction, but he quickly reminded himself that he didn’t want the responsibility of a friend. He had enough on his plate with his ranch, his daughter, and his brother.

“Daddy,” Sarah came strolling back over hand in hand with Dorothea’s youngest brother, both of them smiling cheekily. “This is my boyfriend, James.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Joel gave the boy a playful once over and shook his head in feigned disapproval. “How about a boy friend?”

“Daddy,” she pouted and fixed a stern look on her face that looked every bit her mother.

“Alright, James, but I expect you to respect my daughter,” he said, playfully wagging his finger in the little boy’s face and poking his nose, earning a giggle.

“Yes, sir,” James smiled. “I think Sarah’s the love of my life.”

“Love of your life?” Joel asked, resting a hand on his hip. “You ain’t lived much life, son.”

“Six years of it,” he countered.

“Six years a long time to you?” Joel continued with a smile.

“Yeah. It’s my entire life,” the boy quipped, pulling a laugh out of Joel.

“I guess you’re right,” Joel chuckled. “Long as you treat her right, we ain’t gonna have a problem.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those your brothers?” Joel nudged his chin in the direction of the two slightly older boys, one of them chasing the other with a flower he’d plucked from the lady’s cart.

“Yes, sir,” James nodded. “Ed and Bo.”

“And the other two?”

“Robert and Paul,” James said. “But they’re mean.”

“Yeah? They mean to you?” James nodded. Joel smiled and squatted down to be eye level with him. “Let me ask ya somethin’. One day, you’re gonna be big enough to be mean right back to ‘em,” James nodded. “That somethin’ you’re looking forward to?”

“No,” James shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

“I don’t like bein’ mean,” James said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Good answer,” Joel smiled. “I don’t want my daughter with somebody mean.”

“Boys! Come help me with these groceries!” Dorothea called from the shop, her eyes flickering to Joel as he stood up and turned to look at her. “They ain’t botherin’ y’all, are they?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat at her.

“Lord almighty, she’s a fine lookin’ woman,” Tommy appeared next to Joel, earning a stern glare from his older brother.

“She’s off limits,” James said, his own face scrunching up. “My daddy said so.”

“Well, your daddy hasn’t met me yet,” Tommy smiled. “She got a boyfriend?”

“No,” James replied defensively. “And she don’t want one neither.”

“What about a friend?” Tommy persisted.

“I’m her friend,” he said, crossing his little arms over his chest.

“Did you get the wheelbarrow?” Joel asked, desperate to stop his brother’s back and forth.

“Yep,” Tommy nodded.

“Good, now go on and use it. We need fire wood,” Joel said, tipping his chin towards the hardware store. Tommy sighed and did as his brother commanded while Joel urged both Sarah and James off towards the general store to pick up their weekly groceries.

“Daddy, can we get some blueberries to make another pie?” Sarah asked, pointing ahead at a pint of blueberries sitting on the table in the middle of the store along with the rest of this week’s harvest.

“I didn’t make the pie, baby,” he said. “Don’t know what else we’ll need.”

“Y’all talkin’ about my pie?” Dorothea asked, offering a smile to Sarah as she walked over holding a basket of fruit in her hand while her younger brothers carried the rest of the haul.

“You made it?” Sarah asked with delight.

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Dorothea nodded. “You want the recipe?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah smiled. “I’ll make my daddy teach me.”

“Is your daddy good at bakin’?” Dorothea chuckled, glancing over at Joel who watched her carefully.

“No,” Sarah frowned.

“No, he doesn’t look the part,” she smirked at him, watching as a subtle blush grew on his cheeks. “Well, maybe I could come and teach you since your daddy ain’t so good.”

“Daddy, can she?” Sarah asked, tugging on her fathers arm.

Joel looked down at his wide eyed daughter and felt affection bloom in his chest for her, immediately caving in to her request. “Sure, baby girl.”

“Alright, you want me to show you what you need?” Dorothea spoke to Joel, bringing his eyes back to hers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel nodded, gesturing at her to lead the way.

“Gonna need flour, y’all got that at home?” Joel nodded. “Butter?” Another nod. “How ‘bout milk?”

“We got our own cows,” he said.

“Looks like y’all ain’t gonna need much, then,” she smiled. “All’s left is some blueberries, a lemon, some sugar, and…I think that’s it.”

“You think?” Joel teased, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I know,” she corrected herself with a smirk. “I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon, if that’s alright by y’all.”

“Sounds alright with me,” Joel smiled. “I’ll make sure Tommy ain’t around to bother ya.”

“Oh, you ain’t gotta worry about him. I think he’s kinda sweet…in his own special way,” she shrugged. Joel lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the jealousy that sparked inside him at the thought of Tommy and her together.

As if on cue, Tommy walked in, his eyes scanning the room until he spotted the three of them.

“Well if it ain’t Miss Dorothy,” he grinned.

“Dorothea,” James corrected from the counter as he scooped up the final sack of groceries.

“My apologies,” Tommy smirked. “Guess I’ll have to spend more time around ya. Get the name to stick.”

“Alright,” Joel rolled his eyes and patted Sarah on the shoulder, guiding her towards the counter to pay for their hail. “We’ll see ya tomorrow, then, Dorothea. Bring that James with ya if ya want. Word is him and Sarah are in love. I’d hate to come between that.”

Dorothea giggled and nodded. “That’d be a crime, now, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re comin’ by tomorrow?” Tommy asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, sir,” Dorothea nodded. “Showin’ your niece how to make my famous blueberry pie.”

“Got room for one more student?” he asked. “I’ve been meanin’ to learn how t’ bake.”

“Oh, have you now?” she giggled. “I suppose you can join us, long as you pay attention.”

“I’m gonna be payin’ attention, alright,” he smiled. “Have a good day, now, Dorothy.”

“Dorothe—“ She stopped herself from correcting him again once she realized he was now doing it on purpose, her head shaking as she smiled at him. “How ‘bout you just call me “Miss” from now on? Can’t get that wrong, can ya?”

“Ain’t no fun in that,” he smiled. “I’ll get it one ‘a these days.”

“I’m sure you will,” she rolled her eyes before looking to Joel. “See ya, Joel.”

Joel tipped his hat at her and watched her walk off back down the long road headed towards her ranch, her horde of brothers following closely behind.

“You gotta mess with her?” Joel asked Tommy as he pulled out a few notes and handed it to the clerk.

“Least she’s a nice woman,” Tommy reasoned. “Could be goin’ after one of my women at the bordello like you—“

“Watch it,” Joel warned seriously, no trace of amusement in his eyes as they flickered to an oblivious Sarah. “That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble, Tommy. One ‘a these days someone’s gonna come along and do somethin’ about it.”

“They already tried,” Tommy chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.”

Joel only shook his head as he led the three of them out of the store, Tommy’s hands busied by the wheelbarrow hauling lumber while Joel carried their bag of groceries and Sarah worked on the lollipop the cashier handed over to her.

“Dot, come down and help your mama with hangin’ clothes!” Dorothea’s mother, Jessa, called up the staircase of their quaint farmhouse, interrupting her journaling.

“Yes, mama!” she called back, closing her books before making her way downstairs to tug her boots on before entering the mid-morning heat. She joined her mother out in front of the lawn as she sat scrubbing the dirty laundry on her washing board, a few sheets already hung up on the line.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, wiping her brow. “It’s hot out today.”

“It’s been hot out every day,” Dorothea commented. “How’re the crops lookin’?”

“Your daddy don’t bother tellin’ me anymore,” she said. “Half of me wonders if we wouldn’t be better off packin’ up and movin’ west. I hear there’s still plenty gold.”

“Who ya gonna get to mine for it? Daddy’s back can’t take it, and your two eldest don’t seem to care ‘bout nothin’ except goin’ to the saloon.”

“Don’t you wish we had that luxury?” Jessa said with a smirk. “I know I’d like to be able to run off whenever I want and drink the night away.”

“I don’t care much for the drinkin’, but I would like to know what it feels like to do whatever I want whenever I wanna do it,” Dorothea replied. “Instead we gotta ask permission anytime we wanna leave the house. Makes ya sad if you think about it too much.”

“I’ll tell you somethin’,” Jessa locked eyes with her daughter. “You ever feel like sneakin’ off for a night—maybe go see a pretty boy—you can count on me t’keep your secret. Long as ya tell me, I’ll watch out for ya.”

“You gonna lie to daddy for me?” Dorothea giggled.

“Lord knows I’ve done worse things.”

Dorothea quirked an eyebrow at her mother, smirking in interest.

Jessa ignored her daughter’s curiosity. “So this mean there’s a boy?”

“No,” Dorothea shook her head. “Not yet, at least.”

“Come on, now,” Jessa smiled.

“James’ new friend, Sarah, has an uncle,” she shrugged. “He seems interested.”

“But you ain’t?”

“I don’t know, mama,” she blushed. “He’s fine and all, but…he ain’t really what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Why’s that?”

“He talks too much,” Dorothea replied, earning a hearty laugh from her mother.

“You’re just like me, ain’t ya?”

“Sarah’s dad, however—“

“Dad? How old is he?” Jessa furrowed his brows.

“He doesn’t look much older than me,” she replied. “But he’s quieter. Doesn’t talk unless he has to. And he was sweet with James,” she said. “Thought it was cute.”

“But he ain’t interested in you like the brother is?” Jessa asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said, grabbing the last piece of wet clothing from her mother’s hands and wringing it out before hanging it on the line. “Either way, I don’t foresee any sneakin’ out in my future.”

“A little sneakin’ out would do you some good,” Jessa argued. “You’re too well behaved for your own good.”

“Someone’s gotta be,” she smiled and nudged her head in the direction of the house. “Alright, I gotta go change.”

“Where you off to?”

“Helpin’ Sarah make a pie,” she said.

“Mmhm,” Jessa smirked. “Well tell the uncle and the daddy I said hello.”

“Sure, mama,” she smiled back knowingly before skipping off to the house.

“There she is,” Tommy chimed as Dorothea walked up the steps of the porch, a sweet tea in his hand as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Where’s my student?” Dorothea smirked, tilting her head at him.

“Right here,” he said, gesturing at himself. “Ready to learn.”

“I meant my promisin’ student,” she countered, bringing a grin to his face.

“She’s out back with her daddy,” he said, tipping his head back towards the house. “But we could get started without her.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” she chuckled. “I’m gonna go find her.”

“I’ll be right here,” he drawled, watching her as she walked down the steps and rounded the corner of the house.

Out back, she was met with the sight of Sarah filling the pigs trough full of scraps while her father brushed the mane of a chestnut horse, his white shirt pulling taut across the breadth of his shoulders.

“Hey, y’all,” she announced herself, drawing both pairs of eyes to hers.

“Dorothea!” Sarah chimed, abandoning her work at the pig pen to come skipping over. “Time for pie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she smiled, her eyes trailing from the little girl in front of her to her much larger father as he walked over, his blue jeans clinging to his legs as if they were painted on.

“Miss Dorothea,” he tipped his hat at her. “You come to take this trouble maker off my hands?”

“You causin’ trouble?” Dorothea asked, looking back to the six year old.

“Daddy’s lyin,” she grinned.

“So I got a troublemaker and a liar on my hands,” Dorothea smiled, looking back to Joel. “Ya gonna stay out here, or ya gonna join us inside?”

“Ain’t gonna be much help, I’m afraid,” he smiled.

“You can be our taste-tester,” she shrugged. “And maybe you can keep that brother of yours on a leash. He seems particularly determined today.”

“I apologize for his forwardness,” Joel spoke sincerely. “He thinks he’s smooth ‘cause every woman he’s ever talked to has been eager. He don’t realize it’s ‘cause he paid ‘em to be.”

Dorothea laughed, her brows lifting in shock at the racy nature of his joke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing himself. “Forget I’m talkin’ to a lady.”

“Am I that homely?” she teased. “Maybe I’ll wear my best dress next time. Get Tommy to remember my name and you to remember you’re talkin’ to a woman.”

“Yeah, daddy,” Sarah scolded. “Where’s your manners?”

“I must’a lost ‘em,” he joked.

“Well, me and Dottie’ll help you find ‘em,” she sassed, grabbing Dorothea’s hand and dragging her along back to the house, Joel smiling to himself as he followed them.

“So, cows, a horse, pigs…looks like you’ve got yourself a ranch,” she said, looking behind her as Sarah continued tugging her along.

“Yep,” he agreed.

“You don’t talk much, do ya?”

“Try not to,” he said.

“Any reason?”

“Find people like me a little better when I keep my mouth shut,” he replied, earning another laugh.

“Someone must’a trained you right,” she joked. “Tommy on the other hand—“

“Y’all talkin’ ‘bout me?” Tommy spoke from the porch as the three of them ascended the steps. “Good things, I hope.”

“Hope is a dangerous thing,” Dorothea quipped, earning a chuckle from Joel, the sound drawing her eyes away from Tommy and over to him.

“I don’t get it,” Tommy said, smiling even though his brows were drawn together.

“Nevermind, let’s just get workin’,” Dorothea said, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“He ain’t too clever,” Joel leaned over Dorothea’s shoulder as they filtered inside, whispering to her, and she would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so caught off guard by his proximity.

“You know anythin’ ‘bout makin’ a carrot cake? My mama used to make the best, and I haven’t found anythin’ quite as good since,” Tommy called from the kitchen as Dorothea remained frozen in the entryway, her eyes watching Joel as he squeezed past her to join his brother and daughter inside the small kitchen. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dorothea cleared her head and composed herself as she walked in to join them. “Carrot cake, ya said? I don’t think I’ve ever made one.”

“Well, you had to have a flaw,” Tommy drawled.

“I’ve got a few,” she countered.

“Like what?”

“I’m very particular,” she replied.

“‘Bout what?”

“I like the quiet,” she said, smirking at him. “And I get real bossy.”

“I can shut up,” he said. “And I can follow orders.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Joel groaned, sitting down at their round dinner table.

“Alright, then, if you’re so good at shuttin’ up and followin’ orders, how ‘bout you go sit down and stay quiet while me and Sarah get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy grinned, walking over to the table by the window to sit with his brother while Dorothea and Sarah got to work. “She likes me.”

“She hates you,” Joel corrected.

“What d’you know about women, huh? When’s the last time you talked to somethin’ as pretty as that?”

“Just a few minutes ago in the yard,” he said, lifting an eyebrow to signal his victory.

“You think she likes talkin’ to you anymore than me?” Tommy asked with a smug smile. “I can’t imagine how crazy someone’d have to be to find you interestin’. All you do is take care ‘a the ranch and complain.”

“I didn’t say she liked talkin’ t’me,” Joel shrugged. “Just that we talked.”

“Yeah, well, leave the talkin’ to me,” Tommy said. “I’ll have me a wife come winter, you’ll see.”

“She ain’t gonna marry you,” Joel chuckled.

“Why not?”

“You ain’t committed to nothin’ but causin’ trouble,” he said. “No amount ‘a pretty’s gonna change ya that quick.”

“Well,” Dorothea smiled across the table at Joel as he hauled a bite of her and Sarah’s creation into his mouth, Tommy long gone and out at the saloon while Sarah laid in the living room fast asleep from two thick slices of pie. “Any good?”

“Ya know it’s good,” he said, flickering his eyes at her before dropping them back to his plate.

“Is it always like pullin’ teeth with you?” Joel furrowed his brows as he looked at her again. “Givin’ a sincere compliment?”

“It was sincere,” he said.

“Guess I’m expectin’ somethin’ more like Tommy’s reaction.”

“What, fallin’ to my knees?” he joked, cracking a half smirk. “My knees are busted. I’ll have to praise you from my seat.”

“You and him are so different,” she commented, watching him as he ate. “He’s…wild. Too wild. Reminds me of my two brothers.”

“The ones who went into that…establishment?” he asked, wiping his mouth on a scrap of cloth he’d fashioned into a napkin.

“Yeah, them two,” she nodded. “You ever…been to one ‘em?”

Joel froze a bit, his hand pausing as he lifted a glass of milk to his mouth for a sip. “You askin’ me—“

“I just wanna know what they’re like,” she shrugged. “What they do.”

“You’re better off not knowin’.”

“Well, the men always seem to leave happy,” she said.

“They sure do,” he blushed and brought his cup the rest of the way to his lips, taking a swig before setting it down. “But I ain’t completely sure if that’s somethin’ you need’a know about.”

“Why is it that you boys get’a have all this fun and us girls are supposed to stay home and bake pies, sit and wonder what y’all are doin? What if I wanted to go into a bordello?”

“I ain’t sure it’s they’d know what t’do with ya,” he chuckled.

“Is it—are they…makin’ love?” she whispered the last line, causing Joel to choke on his bite, his fist pounding against his chest to clear it.

“I—“ He shook his head, lost for what to say. “I don’t know that I’d call it that.”

“But they are…sleepin’ together?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But they ain’t doin’ no sleepin’.”

“And that’s where Tommy ran off to?”

Joel hesitated for a moment but nodded.

“Well, then I know for certain I don’t want him,” she said, looking at her plate.

“You don’t like…those kinda men?” he asked, recalling his own past.

“I don’t like men who get around,” she clarified. “If a man wants me, I better be the only one. But so far, I haven’t met a man willin’ to hang up his hat.”

“They’ll grow outta it,” he said.

“Did you?” she asked, knocking his boot under the table with hers.

“I had my day,” he said, locking eyes with her. “Sarah’s mom—she, uh—I met her in one of those…places.”

“But you married her.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Never liked two-timin’.”

“Well, there’s still hope to be had, then,” she smiled. “Just hope I’m still young and pretty by the time these boys decide t’grow up.”

“How old are you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll be twenty-five on Christmas,” she said.

“Christmas, huh?”

“Yeah, makes it easy on my mama and daddy,” she joked. “What about you?”

“Twenty-eight,” he replied. “Twenty-nine in September.”

“Birthday just passed, then,” she said. “I’ll have t’bake you a belated birthday cake.”

“You tryin’ to win me over with food?” he flirted, just to test the waters.

“I didn’t know I was tryin’ to win you over,” she smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“Your brother would,” she countered.

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

Dorothea sat there watching him with a smile, searching his eyes for any sign of a cruel joke being played on her but found none. Even still, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do in this sort of situation. She’d been flirted with for half her life, but was never interested enough to flirt back. Until now.

“I guess I should be goin’ off,” she said, swallowing her feelings for the man in front of her out of sheer fear of falling flat on her face.

“You gonna get home alright?” he asked, standing up when she stood to carry her plate to the sink. “Could take the horse.”

“No, I’m alright,” she assured with a smile, turning around to find Joel right in front of her, his chin tipped downwards as she looked up into his molasses brown eyes. Though she remained breathless, she couldn’t help but let out an airy chuckle as she lifted her hand to press it against the firm wall of his chest. She didn’t push him away, she simply rested it over his heartbeat to feel for a similar rhythm to her own. “You’re awfully close.”

“Would’ya like me to step back?” he asked, his eyes darting across her features, admiring the curve of her button nose.

“No,” she replied, what was supposed to be playful turning into a whisper as she watched tongue peek out and swipe over his bottom lip. She couldn’t help herself but to want to trace the line, too, her hand raising to rest over his bearded jaw while her thumb ghosted across the bow of his lip. “Never kissed anybody before, y’ know that?”

“S’easier than you’d think,” he whispered back, leaning down to slowly fill the gap between their lips, Dorothea’s eyes fluttering shut as she splayed her hand over his cheek while the other lifted to bury her fingers in his curls.

Joel hummed into the kiss as his lips landed against the pillowy softness of her pout, his chest pressing to hers as he pressed her into the counter behind her, his hands gripping the edge of the rustic wood.

Dorothea’s brows laced together as she tried to keep her head above water in this sea of him. He tasted like the pie she spent all afternoon baking and a little bit of whiskey, the warmth of both heating her skin up as she melted into him.

“Daddy,” Sarah called from the other room, her tiny voice thick with sleep. Joel pulled back first, leaving Dorothea to chase his lips with her eyes still shut. He smiled at the sight and leaned forward to kiss her forehead, pulling her out of her haze.

“I gotta go take her t’bed,” he whispered, his voice raspy in her ear as his lips came to rest there. “Wait for me.”

Dorothea couldn’t speak, her olive colored cheeks turning a shade of red as she watched him walk back and out of the room, his voice soft as he spoke to his daughter, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her down the hall

She stood there resting against the counter, her hand resting on her heated cheeks, smiling at the wood beneath her feet.

Was this what it felt like to want somebody? Did it always feel this good? A blood rush to the head?

Joel found his way back into the living room a few minutes later, finding her in that same spot, still spinning over his touch.

“I…hope that was alright,” he said, seemingly catching her by surprise, her eyes jumping away from the floor to meet his. “I hope I didn’t…assume—“

“I think ya did, just a little bit, but that’s alright,” she smiled, walking over to meet him in the middle of the room, her hands sliding over his chest to loop around his neck. “You assumed right.”

“Tommy ain’t gonna like this,” Joel warned, resting his hands on the small of her back.

“He doesn’t got any claim over me,” she replied, her eyes flickering back to his mouth. “Y’know, your lips are softer than they look.”

“That supposed t’be a compliment?” he smiled and she nodded. “Well, thank ya, ma’am.”

“I like when you call me that,” she grinned. “When you use those southern manners.”

“Yeah?” he grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “You like when I’m quiet and polite?”

She laughed softly and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Like that you know when to talk and when to shut up.”

“Then I’ll shut up now,” he said, smiling into the kiss as he squeezed her closer, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip before grazing the tip of her tongue. Dorothea moaned into the kiss, the sound causing Joel to short circuit and pull away, his forehead resting against hers. “You gotta go home.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, still breathless.

“Come see me tomorrow, if you got the time,” he said, pulling back to comb his hand through her brown waves as they hung loosely down her shoulder and back.

“I’ll see if I can sneak off,” she grinned, stepping back from his embrace to walk out the front door to his porch.

“I’ll see ya,” she said, biting her lip as she turned on her heel to walk down the steps of his porch.

“Bye, Dorothea,” he smiled to himself, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe as he watched her frame get tinier and tinier as she walked down the long, dirt road until she disappeared out of view, taking the sunshine with her.

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Hi, I saw you other post and wanted to contribute to the discussion if that's cool.

I'm white, grew up middle class in the suburbs. My parents were both first generation immigrants. I grew up connected to their culture, their parents were Catholics from Northern Ireland who came to the US with their kids during the Troubles due to the violence there. But both of my parents were also pro assimilation; they taught me about my family history, but I wasn't meant to talk about it with others outside of our culture. I didn't understand that as a child, but I later learned that it's because they were afraid of being judged and were worried that it may decrease their social standing.

They are both conservatives, always voting red, and they constantly talk about how immigrants do harm and are terrible for this country to others, acting as though they themselves aren't the children of immigrants. Their parents fled violence and discrimination, yet they judge other people for doing the same. They see themselves as the exception. They're white, and see themselves as entitled to all of the benefits of that.

When I was in middle school, I started becoming aware of the contradictions present in the house I grew up in. I realised I was queer, I started experiencing more misogyny, and I started making friends and finding support in punk/anarchist spaces in my hometown. When I started to push back against my parents, I was met with anger and indignation. How are I not want what their parents "fought so hard" to get? Why couldn't I just accept the privilege and be happy with it? How could I find kinship and community outside of the spheres of whiteness? Why couldn't I just be cishet, and follow those rules to preserve my family's "dignity"?

What was especially crazy to me is that though they felt a "connection" to their Irish culture, the moment I began supporting Irish republicanism and Irish socialists/communists, I was suddenly a traitor. I was somehow a traitor for opposing the oppression that Britian wrought, entirely because I was applying that to other people. They want Ireland free from the British Empire, but they are against Landback in the US, Palestinian sovereignty, and other movements against colonialism arcoss the world. Basically - its not okay when they do it to us, but its okay when we do it to others. They also support kicking the brits out of Northern Ireland, but don't support the destruction of the capitalist policies that have hurt and killed thousands of people. Their people too!

When I got kicked out, I was taken in and supported by the punks, antifascists, anarchists, and communists of my community; a support that I had never seen before. The suburbs were always lonely, cut off from the rest of the town, and people there would rather die than ask others for help. The difference was insane. I'm broke now, disabled, uninsured, and struggling financially, but I have, like, actual friends. I have a community. We all pass the same $20 back and forth to each other to make ends meet, we pool money to buy things in bulk so we all have enough, we go all in on one Costco membership every year to make it easier. I have support here, even if I don't have the same degree of "comfort".

What I gathered from all this is that white immigrants and their children occupy a very weird place in American whiteness, especially those who came to this country fleeing poverty and/or violence. They're traitors to other immigrants, in thinking that they're somehow "more superior" due to their connection to whiteness. They're willing to throw anyone and everyone under the bus to further their own social standing. They feel especially entitled to it, believing that other white people just had it handed to them rather than having to fight for it, but are also terrified of other white people realising that. They put on a great show of whiteness in the hopes that being accepted into this group will makes them safer, while beating down others looking for safety.

I think Irish Americans are especially guilty of this, specifically Irish Catholics. They use the very real oppression and violence that their parent/grandparents faced to deflect from their own shittiness, while also keeping that under wraps around other white people, lest they be seen as less American.

The difference is insane. I don't know how they live like that, genuinely. They're so wrapped up in their privilege and their identity as white that they deprive themselves of real human connection. They beat others down with glee while exempting themselves from the same rhetoric.

I don't have a nice, clean end to this ask, this is more of a collection of observations than anything else. I think international solidarity is required to fix the problems in this world, but I genuinely don't know how to reach some of these people. They have a death grip on whiteness at the expense of their own humanity.

I never responded to this because I didn't know how or what to say; anon said it all already and there was nothing to add.

I am constantly thinking about the things being said here.

"we pass the same $20 back and forth to each other to make ends meet" and "they're so wrapped up in their privilege and their identity as white that they deprive themselves of real human connection" live in my head rent free