#the amount of things i can get away with has increased now that the setting has gone from vaguely realistic urban fantasy to High Fantasy

[ruairy]

.

[aces-and-angels]

verified by 90-ghost follow asmaa @asmaayyad & on instagram (asmaa_ayyad98)

moots/lovely lurkers- lend me your ears (or eyes- y'all get it) and allow asmaa to introduce herself in her own words:

"hello I hope my message reaches you well i am asmaa ayyad from gaza, specifically khan yunis, i am 25 years old, i am trying to save me and my family from the war of extermination that is happening now (a/n: asmaa graduated from the university of palestine in 2021 and went on to study/train to become a practicing lawyer) we lost our home, our friends and some of our relatives, I have also been living far away from my fiancé for two years, I cannot reach him because of the increase in the coordination price and the closure of the crossings and borders (a/n: asmaa lists feras_lbrahim in her insta bio as her fiancé) please i want you to help me by publishing for me and standing by my side, as i am now struggling alone to save an entire family i wanted to contact @/90-ghost but he does not respond to me (a/n: since asmaa sent me this message, 90-ghost has been able to get in touch/share her posts) i would be very grateful to you if you helped me"

asmaa's family consists of 8 members- all of whom led beautiful lives prior to the war. asmaa's older brother, dia, was looking forward to his own wedding. instead of experiencing such a joyous day, his life was shattered after his home was destroyed by the israeli army.

to lose a home- all your valuable possessions- your memories- in an instant is something that cannot be fully understood unless you've gone through it yourself. in asmaa's own words (read & share full post here):

"in addition to the pain, oppression and suffering that displacement causes us, there is a material aspect that no one talks about or mentions or mentions in the media. every place we move from to a new place requires transportation from 1,500 to 2,000 shekels... and despite this amount, you cannot transport all your belongings. this is in addition to the costs of setting up the tent again and trying to return what you lost of your things and belongings. displacement kills us more than death, it drains our health, our money and everything we own... displacement is another war that is harsher than this war of starvation and extermination... displacement is a hidden killer. how many people have been martyred because they do not have the price of displacement? the price that saves them from death! how many people have lost their dignity because of it?! oh god, have mercy on us and our situation 🙏💔"

asmaa's family has already lost so much- friends, loved ones, their cat, timur. they are living in a nightmare they cannot wake up from. the decision to evacuate is not an easy one to make nor is it one for the rest of us to scrutinize. it's what asmaa + her family have decided is the best path forward

please support my friend however you can-- the smallest actions can make the biggest impact

if all you can do is share- then share. follow asmaa to get the most up to date news regarding her family. tell someone you know about asmaa's story. allow others who may be able to contribute more find asmaa so her family may get to safety

and if you can give little more, please visit the link below 🖤

cw: photos of destroyed buildings + deceased cat (timur) included in the campaign

[ms-demeanor]

Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

[turnfires-secret]

" Experiment "

ALBEDO X MALE READER SMUT

Bottom Albedo, Aphrodisiacs, Biting / Marking

Sex with Albedo is never boring. Being an alchemist, he comes up with all sorts of strange devices, elixirs and creations. Most recently, he had developed an enhancement elixir. One that could boost the taker’s combat and elemental abilities. The only drawback, however, was that before the effects begin to take effect, the elixir basically worked as an aphrodisiac. Since this was his latest creation, and creations needed testing… the amount of intercourse the two of you have been having had increased significantly. 

 Its calm in the living room of your shared house, reading wasn’t usually one of your hobbies but on certain days it just feels right. From within the room Albedo had turned into an at-home lab you could hear some light crashing and the sound of something, or someone bumping into things. It wasn’t too uncommon of a sound. Though, 2 minutes later Albedo walks out of his lab looking more dishelved than usual. His hair that was usually done up and tidy had strands out of place, the result of running his hands through his hair. The collar to his blue button up shirt was undone aswell. 

He looks dazed as he walks over to where your sitting, taking the book from your hands, closing it and gently setting it aside. It’s cute how he straddles your lap and cuddles into your shoulder. You can tell his body is starting to burn up, his breathing is deeper than usual. Tell-tail signs that he had been experimenting with more aphrodisiac. 

“Again? I’m starting to think your just experimenting with that stuff so you can have sex”

Theres a small audible groan from him before he replies.

“Flase, While i do enjoy engaging in such acts with you, i have infact been making significant steps in my research…”

“Mhh~ whatever you say”

Using one hand, you push him backwards against the couch and pin his hands above his head. Your free hand goes down to work to unbutton his shirt. You decide not to take off his shirt fully, leaving it unbuttoned, and hanging off his shoulders. The blond haired man lefts out a small hum as you kiss his neck while your free hand fumbles with his belt and the zipper of his pants. His neck has always been one of your favorite places to mark, to kiss, to bite. Though Albedo doesn’t particularly mind the way small bluish-red bruises seem join the star that has marked his neck since his inception. It was pleasurable, a sign for your bond to him, a constant reminder. 

Freeing Albedo’s cock from the confines of his boxers, you reach down to his hole to find that Albedo seems to have already prep-ed himself for this. How cute. Using some excess lube, you lean down into his neck and slowly start to jerk him off. Using your full hand, then just afew fingers to play with the tip, then just your fingernail to run against the small slit at the top. Compared to your own, Albedo’s cock was smaller, was is strange to think that was hot? Repeating these motions, over and over rewards you with the blond haired man’s breathy moans in your ear as you work your ‘magic’. By way of the aphrodisiac in his system, he cums quicker and more than he usually would. 

Getting back up from where you were previously in te crook of Aledo’s neck you undress yourself, you push his legs forward in order to gain easier access to his hole. Leaning down, you let your lips meet his before slowly pulling away and pushing in. You find yourself buried in his neck, kissing and biting as you set a slow yet rough pace. Your hand comes down from pinning his arms, now more focused on keeping yourself stable. A pace that the chief alchemist clearly enjoys by the way his nails dig into the skin of your back and the small pleasured hums that escape his lips. It was slow but rough and hard. It jolted Albedo’s body back every time. It made it feel like every time you pushed in, it’d hit deeper and deeper. Each thrust was like clockwork, your cock hitting so deep inside that he swears he could feel it in his head. It sent the equivalent of a shockwave of pleasure through his body every single thrust.

“M-mh~ Ah~ Y-You can go a-a bit faster”

You do and the small hums turn into audible breathy moans and whines. This new faster pace only served to intensify it all. The pace, forceful and rough was almost violent. Despite this Albedo found his aphrodisiac infused body enjoying the sensation to the fullest. Usually it’d feel like his body was being ripped in two, however the aphrodisiac worked it magic making this near-violent somewhat painful pace you set feel like celestia on earth. 

Albedo had moved on from simply digging is nails into your back, now he was holding you against himself as a way to stabilize himself, as a way to not stray too deep into pleasure. However, you can tell the alchemist is close by the way his insides clench around you, the way he gets louder. 

“Ah- Mh~ aah~! I’m going to- mh~! Y-Y/N~”

With such an angelic voice like that, how could you resist? Fucking him just abit harder you both eventually cum in tandem with each other, both of you taking afew second to catch your breath. Albedo, the ever hard worker, uses his arms to prop himself up as you slide your dick out of his body. Staring down as your cum begins to leak out, ee lets out a almost tired sounding hum before mumbling something along the lines of:

“ Be a shame to let this go to waste, perhaps i could use it in an experiment…”

He turns his attention to you, kissing you gently before getting out from under you, his pants left disgraded on the living room floor and his shirt unbuttoned. He was always so resourceful, weather that was a good thing or not way yet to be seen… 

Oh well… It’s not like you could be mad at him for too long. 

[notjustjavierpena]

Siggy, the real question is pls get some more pregnancy joel…..bc tempers has me feeling some type of way 😮‍💨🥹

The Making of Ellie - Part IV: Libido

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, anon ❤️ Hope it is worth the wait. 

Summary: Your libido has increased since getting pregnant. Joel doesn’t have a problem with indulging you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni!), teasing, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, pregnancy sex, bit of fluff, intense orgasms, handjob, come-eating, desperate and whimpering joel is a warning in itself, the tiniest use of daddy.

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Libido

Since entering your third trimester, your libido has increased significantly. It is to the point where you feel painfully hot and bothered throughout the day, having described it as an itch that simply won’t go away no matter how much you scratch it. You’ll cross your legs, bite your lip, flush pink and be short of breath just by catching a glimpse of Joel, and he’ll be on you as soon as humanly possible. In short: You just want to, and you do, fuck all the damn time. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, in the hallway, once on the staircase, car. 

Joel is happy to oblige, at least inside the four walls of your shared home. Sarah has completely fled the house at this point; despite it starting with your temper tantrums, her distaste for being home was really set in stone when she walked in on the two of you in a compromising position. 

“Dad, I’m really happy for you and all, but Jesus Christ, I’ll be home again tomorrow,” she’d said, and now, she comes home for dinner and to pack her soccer bag. He lets her. She’s practically grown at this point, and he’ll see her when she needs him, he knows this. He has made it a habit to text her goodnight too, and she always responds quickly with a heart emoji.

You on the other hand are a whole different story. You are always in close proximity to him, circling him like a goddamn cat who does not want to admit its attachment to you and waiting to strike for the right moment to get attention. 

Joel is emptying the dishwasher, a thing that he has made clear is his job after the incident, when he spots you out of the corner of his eye. He smiles to himself and pretends not to see you, continuing his work on getting all the mugs into the cabinet above him without crushing any of the million amounts of snacks you have hidden in the back. 

You move closer. He watches still, catches the way your skirt flows as you walk to stand on his right side. You grip the edge of the kitchen counter, leaning against it and eyeing him up. 

“Hey babe,” you say, tapping a finger on the front of the kitchen cabinet. 

“Hi honey,” he replies nonchalantly to make you work for it. He starts filling up the dishwasher too, causing a microexpression of frustration and confusion on your face. 

“Do you wanna do something together?” You suggest. 

“Sure, when ’m done here.”

“How about now? Skip the cleaning up thing?” 

“Is there anythin’, in particular, ya wanna do?” He acts oblivious. He goes to wash his hands, “Somethin’ that can’t wait?”

“Well,” you say with confidence, “Wouldn’t you rather get with—“

You push your hands down onto the counter to lift yourself up onto the kitchen table, but the act is hardly successful; you’ve become too stiff to do it, and it ends up a lot less sexy than Joel assumes is your intention. You try again, but you can’t get your ass onto the table, round belly in the way of being flexible enough to be seductive. 

“Hold up,” you furrow your brows, trying your act again and using your legs to kickstart the jump off the floor but yet again to no avail, “I can do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says, one hand resting on his chin as he hides the urge to laugh out loud. He clears his throat to cover up a chuckle. 

“Stop,” you snap at him as you catch him actually laughing at you. He tries to suppress it, but when it bubbles up in his chest without his control, you become stubborn, “No, no, just wait.”

You struggle for a few moments more whilst Joel bites his cheek to keep you from getting upset. Eventually, you groan, “A little help here?”

“Sure,” Joel stands in front of you. He pushes on the soles of your feet the next time you try jumping, giving you the boost you need to perch yourself on the surface. 

“Now,” you brush non-existent dust off your skirt, gesturing to yourself afterward. Joel thinks you’re adorable, “Wouldn’t you rather get with this than clean the kitchen?” 

Joel sends you a smirk, “After that whole display, I’m actually not sure. Can you jump down and do it again so I’m certain?”

“Joel,” you bite, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t know if you purposely squeeze your fuller breasts together or if he is just a dog, but he cannot help himself from staring. You catch him doing it, “Great. So you can stare at my cleavage, but you can’t touch me?” 

Joel says your name. You ignore him. 

“Have I not been paying ‘nough attention to ya?” Joel tuts in the softest voice, closing the distance between you to stand in between your legs, “Is that why you’re actin’ up?” 

You pout at him so prettily, arms still underneath your tits and fingers tapping on your elbows. It turns more fun when you don’t reply, gaze dropping after it becomes too intense to stare back at him. Joel loves this little game, can feel his cock twitch in his jeans and threaten to strain against the zipper. You look past his shoulder, chewing on your bottom lip with a sort of pained restlessness. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joel continues. He reaches out to place his palm on your round belly, rubbing soothingly as you continue to ignore him in your attempt to repress a tantrum. He knows you get angry and frustrated when you don’t eat, but after getting you pregnant, he has discovered that you react the same to not getting fucked on the regular too, “‘S not right for me to tease ya like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, placing your hand on top of his in a gesture of reconciliation, “Think you should make it up to your baby mama. She’s going insane, you know. Only you help.” 

Joel can feel his cock start to harden already. It is so easy for you to rile him up these days, hearing you talk about how he has ruined anything else for you. He is the only one to save you from this torment, and luckily, Joel likes to be useful. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Joel’s hand on your stomach slips down and then up under your skirt. He glides his fingertips along your inner thigh, watches you struggle to find the words as his digits go further north until they rest right by the fabric of your underwear. He can feel the warmth radiating from your core.

“Uhh,” you say as your mind fogs. Your legs automatically spread for him.

“This?” He hooks his thumb underneath the damp fabric right at your center, “Jesus, you’re so wet, baby. I’m so sorry. If you’d just told me, I would’ve—“

“Just touch me, stop talking, and—” you whine, scooting a little further towards the edge to give him more access, “Don’t have to worry now.”

Joel’s thumb settles on your clit and presses down lightly. It causes you to say his name desperately, the back of your head knocking against the kitchen cabinet when you crane your neck back. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Joel asks. He stops temporarily while you reach up to touch the back of your head. Though instead of wincing, you start giggling and Joel cannot suppress his own laughter. 

“Keep going,” you egg him on, “I’ll be more careful.”

Joel decides to pull your underwear to the side instead, so he can sink two fingers into you. You let out a shaky breath, “Oh, fuck. That’s just what I needed.”

Joel’s thumb is on your clit again. He fucks you on his digits slowly, searches for your g-spot for only a second before rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. God, the way your face goes slack. You absolutely love it. 

The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene enough to get him painfully hard in mere seconds too, combined with the feeling of your walls fluttering with your climax building.

“How the fuck are you so soaked?” He asks in disbelief. 

“May have pregamed,” you admit in your blissful state. 

“What?” Joel doesn’t stop what he is doing, but he slows down until he has almost come to a halt. 

You find his gaze with a frown, “Don’t stop.”

“I haven’t… pregamed?”

You squirm a little and try to move, but Joel places his free hand on your belly to stop you, “Tried to take care of it myself. Didn’t fucking work, okay? The angle is all wrong.”

Joel cannot believe his ears. He lets his hand go up to grab your chin and then starts fucking your cunt with his fingers in earnest. You cry out softly, holding his gaze intensely. 

“You find me, okay?” He puts on the voice that always makes you shut up and nod, “I don’t care what the fuck I’m doing. Say you wanna come and I’ll be there.”

Just like he predicted, you simply nod at his words. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and he marvels at how you are barely able to connect your fingertips when your hand is in a fist around it. He loves you. Sweetest little thing he has ever known. 

“Gonna be a good girl and come f’me?” He smiles devilishly when your breathing indicates that you are close. He lets go of your chin and splays the palm on your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat, “Make those legs tremble f’me?”

He curls his fingers upwards to torture his favorite spot inside of you, and then you are coming around them with fast pulses of your walls. He watches your thighs twitch once and then twice before actually shaking violently, making him wonder how long you’ve involuntarily edged yourself before finding him. 

“Fuck, Joel, Joel,” you gasp in a very particular way, and Joel quickly removes his fingers from your cunt to see how a wet patch forms on your skirt from how you gush repeatedly as your climax reaches its peak.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s in the fucking kitchen, because the pride that he feels at making you squirt knows no bounds, and he cannot help the boyishness in his chuckle, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Holy fuck,” you groan as you come down from your high. You rest your head against the kitchen cabinet again, this time without knocking it roughly into it. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Fantastic,” you sigh contentedly, “Just gimme a sec. Take your pants off. I wanna do something nice for you before I go take this stupid skirt off.”

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reassures despite how his dick hurts by now. 

“Pants off, Miller,” you commandeer. 

Joel follows through without further hesitation. He makes quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear, grunting at the friction along his hard cock. 

“Look at you,” you say with a pout, “Poor baby daddy.”

You reach out to grab a hold of his cock, watching the bead of precome that threatens to drip down from the tip. Running the pads of your fingers up and down the shaft teasingly, Joel lets out a relieved moan at finally being touched but it only lasts for a moment because nothing escalates. 

“You said something nice. This ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he tells you with a groan, squeezing himself further in between your legs to get closer to your smug expression. You swear the precome over the sensitive head and both of Joel’s hands fly to the kitchen counter. He places them flat against the surface, “Really not gonna say anythin?’

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head, eyes still glazed over with your post-orgasmic bliss but now also sporting an innocence that drives him mad. You start stroking his dick, fist tightening around his girth and he can feel himself pulse in your hand.

It feels fucking great as you drag your palm over the skin again and again, but something clicks in Joel’s head when desperation hits. Fuck, he wants to come.

It would be impossible to make his body listen to him right now as it feels disconnected from reality and control. He tilts his hips, looks down at where you’re touching him so expertly, and then fucks himself into your tight grip. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say in disbelief but never falter. If anything, you manage to squeeze enough to make it a tighter fit without hurting him, “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“Fuck,” he swears loudly and speeds up his hips. One of the hands on the kitchen table comes up to grab a cabinet handle, knuckles turning white as he strains to chase his orgasm. 

When the rubber band at the base of his spine snaps, Joel stills his hips. Your hand hesitates for a second, but then the first rope of come spills over your hand and you milk him for every drop he has in him. 

Joel hasn’t come like this in a while; always empties himself sheathed inside your soft cunt, but when you praise him absentmindedly as he comes, he finds that he might become partial to it. He pants through the almost painful clenches of his lower stomach and balls. 

When he whimpers at the over-sensitivity, your hand stills completely. Your free hand strokes his cheek with the back of your fingers, “You good? Talk to me.”

It takes a beat to find his bearings once more. His hand plops down onto the counter again. He mumbles with exhaustion coating his voice, “Alright. ‘M back.”

He thinks you’re as spent as him, but with your remaining energy, you lift your hand from his cock to lick his come off the back of it with the flat of your tongue. He groans, “Dirty girl.”

“What? It has vitamins,” you tease, giving your hand another kitten lick, “Unfortunately not D. Should’ve been vitamin D.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. He struggles a little with his balance as he gets dressed again, blood still not having fully returned to his brain. He gets the paper towels and helps you clean up, but you just look at him with a dazed smile.

“What?” He questions.

“You better fuck me like that tonight,” you muse.

“You know what to say, and I’ll be there. No pregaming,” he replies simply and helps you onto the ground again, “Now go change, momma.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[deelavis]

WAIT WAIT WAIT, I just need to point something out that I noticed while doing visual research for drawing Mello with his gun.

Buckle in, this was supposed to be a short thought about the narrative use of trigger discipline but now there is extensive image research.

If you don't know about the concept of trigger discipline, it basically means that when holding a gun your finger should be resting outside of the trigger guard and should only be on the trigger of a gun if you actually intend on shooting what it's pointed at, at that moment.

While I was looking for ref of Mello holding his gun the first thing I noticed was that he has HORRENDOUS trigger discipline, I mean look at this.

Pretty much every instance, even in promotional art when his gun is at his side, he has his finger on the trigger. I thought it must just be a character choice with the amount of guns that are drawn in this series. Even when Halle is in the shower (bottom right image) he keeps his finger on the trigger. I also use the top right example with Halle, as this is the second she walks in the door. BUT THEN I saw this post and noticed...

is his finger in the trigger guard???

Proportionally it is quite ambiguous in this shot. However even if his finger is inside the guard what strikes me is also how the other instances we see Mello with his gun he is choked up on the trigger. Though when pointed at Near, his grip is quite loose. Let's start from the beginning of the sequence.

We first see Mello on page 126, if you are unfamiliar with the manga, at this point Mello and Halle have been in contact for a week. They are tenuous allies. When Mello moves his gun away he keeps his finger on the trigger, this will be an important point for later.

Next page, Halle has entered the shower. Mello continues to keep his finger on the trigger of his gun, even though he knows Halle is unarmed.

2 pages later, Mello still has his finger firmly on the trigger. This is one of the best shots of his gun that we get in the manga and is quite indicative of how we see him handling his gun throughout the story. Also we can see the safety, the small switch above his thumb, is set to off.

I'm going to skip ahead but note that between Pg. 129 and Pg. 135 we see Mello enter the SPK headquarters with his gun on Halle. He has his finger on the trigger the whole time.

After Near asks Geovanni and Rester to lower their guns, Mello does as well. But for the first time we also see him place his finger outside the guard.

Now the moment when he turns his gun to Near. While his finger is in the guard, ready to pull the trigger when he points his gun at Near, something that struck me was how differently his hand is drawn in these few panels. As you saw previously, Mello normally has his finger curled tightly around the trigger of this gun, even when at his side. However in the first panel of Pg. 137, I wasn't even sure if he had his finger in the trigger guard with how it is drawn. It isn't until the final 2 panels that we see him tighten his grip. I find this to be a very interesting departure from the rest of the times we see Mello using his gun.

Finally, after Halle breaks them apart and Mello lowers his gun we see him actually use trigger discipline!!! For the rest of the scene!!! Regardless of your shipping preferences, I find this to be an incredible detail in how Mello behavior shifts around Near. While Near seems to make him fly off the handle emotionally, he also shows an increase in care with his weapon when around him. Another fun little drawing detail to notice (and another reason I find these choices to be intentional) you can see in the final panel of the last example that the safety of the gun is now engaged, while in all the other panels it was not. For reference, Mello uses a Beretta 92FS Sword Cutlass pistol, though stylistically it seems to be based off of Benvolio's Taurus PT99 AFS from Romeo + Juliet, right down to the cross hanging from the handle! This shows an incredible level of detail when it comes to the handling of guns in the manga.

Listen I know I've got yaoi brain worms, so if anyone has any other examples of Mello using trigger discipline I would love to see them!

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Saturday

I'm not sure if it's friday anywhere anymore so we're fucking it on a Saturday!! I've been super lax on writing this week because I've got a beefy 3k word report on care for transgender/gender diverse parents during pregnancy due on Monday and I am not even halfway done dfkjds. BUT I did get a small trickle of Frostpunk AU beans so I thought I'd share! Snippet below the line bc it's kinda long

Tagged for Friday & Saturday by @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @bidisasterevankinard

@cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley and @kitteneddiediaz, I will be getting to your snippets tonight!!

Buck’s reading to Christopher when it happens.

Ever since Christopher woke up, Buck has been keeping a near-constant vigil at his bedside, keeping the boy entertained and comfortable where he can. He’d even snuck into the Children’s Shelter to borrow some toys for Christopher - a set of cards, a rainbow puzzle, a small, plastic dinosaur toy, and a fluffy rabbit that Christopher had kept tucked under his arm ever since.

So, it’s not entirely surprising that Buck is there when Edmundo wakes up.

The first indication is the bleeping on Edmundo’s heart monitor begins to increase in speed. Buck stops midsentence and turns in his chair. The first thing he notices is that Edmundo’s eyes are open, wide and fearful as he looks around the room.

In a flash, Buck is on his feet, book clattering to the floor, and he rushes over to Edmundo’s bedside.

“Hen!” he yells, praying his friend is close enough to hear. “Chimney! Someone, come quick!!”

Edmundo’s chest begins to heave as a heavy panic sets in and he raises his arms to claw at the breathing tube down his throat. Buck grabs his wrists and pins them to his size, and is surprised at the strength of the man. It takes no small amount of effort to keep him from ripping the tube out, or scrabbing at the IV lines in his arms.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, Hen and Chimney are coming, just breathe for me,” Buck says hurriedly as he watches Edmundo gag around the tube. He knows the man will be getting oxygen, but that won’t be stopping the feeling of suffocation, the feeling of obstruction in his throat.

Edmundo’s eyes bug out as he looks at Buck, gaze boring into him in a silent plea. Help me. Make it stop.

There’s a clattering of feet on linoleum as Hen, Chimney, and another medic Buck doesn’t know the name of all sprint into the cramped med bay.

“What’s going on, what happened?” Hen asks as she comes screeching to a halt, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. Before Buck can even open his mouth, Chimney is grabbing the extubation equipment and barking orders at Hen and the medic, all three swarming Edmundo’s bedside.

Buck’s in the way, he knows it but he cannot make himself move. Instead, he takes both of Edmundo’s hands and laces their fingers together, squeezing lightly to give Edmundo something to focus on.

“Look at me, Edmundo,” he says as Hen peels off the tape keeping the tube in place. Edmundo’s eyes flick back towards Buck, his eyebrows scrunched together, and Buck’s stomach twists uncomfortably as he sees a tear slide down Edmundo’s cheek.

“That’s it, just keep your eyes on me.”

“Okay, extubating patient now. Hen, have suction at the ready. Jess, get the O2 mask,” Chimney orders, and there’s a fluffy of movement as everyone gets in position.

Buck looks away. He doesn’t want to watch the tube come out. He’s never been the best with medical things at the best of times and this.. well he’s not exactly sure why the thought of Edmundo in particular being in pain makes him so unhappy but it does. So he doesn’t watch, instead keeping his eyes trained firmly on his and Edmundo’s hands. It doesn’t escape his notice the way Edmundo’s knuckles go white as he clings to Buck for dear life.

There’s horrible wet noise followed by the sound of suction and a volley of wet coughs, before Buck hears a deep breath in. He chances a glance upwards and sees Edmundo, eyes open and sans tube for the first time he got to Sector 118. There’s an oxygen mask fitted over his face, fogging up with every breath Edmundo takes.

Instantly, relief flows through Buck like warm honey, filtering through his veins until he’s lighter and warmer than he’s been in days. Edmundo’s awake. Edmundo is breathing on his own. Edmundo’s alive.

Buck grins, unable to contain his joy. “Welcome back to the world of the living, Edmundo.”

“Eddie,” the guy croaks, and Buck blinks.

“Huh?”

“Name’s E-Eddie. Not Edmundo,” he rasps, before breaking out into a coughing fit. Buck rushes to help him upright, takes off the oxygen mask, and holds out a container as Edmundo – Eddie spits into it, his chest heaving from the force of his coughs. Buck rubs his back, murmuring reassuring words until Eddie takes a shaky breath and allows himself to rest back against his pillows.

No pressure tagging (for Friday or Saturday) @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @neverevan @babybibuck @aroeddiediaz

@bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @jesuisici33 @wikiangela

@loveyouanyway @exhuastedpigeon @epicbuddieficrecs @hermscat @worriedbisexual

@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie @simpingforhotfictionalcharacters

@houseofevanbuckley @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss

@steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998 @jehdogg @ohlookitsthearkhamknight @revenge-of-the-assbutt (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[taiga-shark]

Claws

taiga and romeo have a chat. inspired by chain w/ @ficoandleo, with a small side of angst.

cw: suggestive (not explicit), slight blood, mention of much much more blood and violence.

Number of times today that Romeo has decided to replace the locking mechanism on the door: five.

Make that six.

Taiga kicks the door to the VIP room open as if this is just how people open doors. The damn thing has been whining in protest all day, every time it’s been opened, and it’s been driving Romeo fucking insane. The way Taiga just marked it with the sole of his boot, it’s probably broken for good now.

“What are y-” Romeo does not get the words out before Taiga drapes himself over his sniper like a shapeless bag of beans. It turns even Romeo speechless, if briefly.

Taiga growls something under his breath.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? It’s th-”

Another growl - lower, louder, and nowhere near human.

Romeo is acutely aware of the looks the security goons are giving him. He can already hear the hushed rumors spreading poison through the veins of the House. Don’t they hate each other? I thought they were fighting. No way, I definitely saw him on Taiga’s lap the other-

“Out. We are having a meeting,” he says with no small amount of struggle to maintain his dignity under Taiga’s dead weight.

The two guards exchange a glance, but they don’t move.

Romeo sighs. Ignoring his orders is hazardous to one’s health. “Did I lapse into Italian? Out.”

They hurriedly shuffle out the door before they get reintroduced to the business end of a gun.

Instead, he turns his wrath to the captain.

“You cannot just waltz in here like that!” he yells, not sure if he hopes they hear him outside or not. “Not if you’re going to-”

“Scritchies.”

It’s so muffled that Romeo isn’t totally sure what he heard. The only reason he is sure is because he knows Taiga, whether he wants to or not. He wills away a headache and gives a sharp sigh. “Fine.”

Taiga all but collapses to the floor until he’s more or less kneeling with his head in Romeo’s lap. He mumbles something else unintelligible. All that’s really clear is that it was a bad day. Romeo carefully works his gloves off, one finger at a time, then sets them aside. To think, his perfect manicure, reduced to this.

He traces the fingers of one hand into Taiga’s cayenne-red hair, parting the layers a little at a time until he can see the blonde fighting for its life closer to his scalp. Below that are scars - some from fighting, some from trying to shave his own hair, and plenty from attempting to peel his skull back to get at the brains underneath. Romeo slides the pads of his fingertips through the roots of Taiga’s hair.

Taiga emits a grunt and sinks more heavily onto Romeo’s lap, burying his face into a very expensive pair of pants. Romeo is trying, and struggling, and failing to keep his mind on his work of monitoring the casino cameras, while he less-than-absentmindedly strokes and scratches Taiga’s head with steadily increasing pressure.

He can feel Taiga start to relax, tension unwinding from him bit by bit. It starts to take hold of Romeo, too - tugging at the edges of his ever-working mind, suggesting he take a break, stay a while, the day can wait, come back to bed-

Something wet and cold is on his knee.

“Don’t drool on me, you bastard!” he cries indignantly. “Do you have any idea how m- mm!”

Taiga leaps on him like a coiled spring and crushes him into the couch. His shoulder silences Romeo’s cry and replaces it with the thick, heavy spice of his cologne, cut through with the tang of leather from the strap of his arm holster. His growl is back, irritated and vaguely threatening. A quick burst of fear flashes through Romeo - the constant wondering of is this finally it? is this the day he snaps? - but it’s gone as quickly, because he knows better. He knows Taiga better than that.

“Alright, alright! Fine, fuck.”

Taiga seems less sure, as he still has one knee digging into Romeo’s ribcage.

Romeo resumes his slow, deliberate massaging of Taiga’s hair. Almost immediately, Taiga calms down again, sinking against Romeo like all his bones just melted. He sighs aggressively, his breath swirling over the shell of Romeo’s ear and gripping him with an involuntary shiver.

Romeo waits for Taiga to say something about it. A joke, a comment, a question. But nothing comes.

Then Taiga inhales with a cold, crisp gust of air that showers Romeo’s neck with invisible sparks. Anyone else might react like a prey animal, this close to these eyes and those teeth. But Romeo is not one so easily intimidated. He remains still, trying not to think about how much he’s thinking about Taiga’s thighs pinning him in place.

“You smell nice today.” It’s so low and mumbled that it could be mistaken for distant thunder. It reverberates deep within Taiga’s chest and shakes Romeo’s heart.

“Tch,” he hisses into Taiga’s ear, precise and suppressed as a sniper’s bullet, “of course I do.” He sweeps both hands up through Taiga’s hair, allowing himself a dark chuckle when Taiga gives a blissful little shudder of his own. “You know how much I’ve spent on fragrances.” All for nothing, it seems, he thinks but does not say.

Taiga nods a little. “Mm-hmmm. Only the best for Lu~Lu…” It comes out in a singsong tone that most would take to mean he was teetering on the brink of insanity, but Romeo knows better. He knows Taiga better than that.

Romeo’s fingers move in symmetrical, rhythmic circles and twirls, catching longer pieces of Taiga’s hair and looping them around his digits, pulling them through with the tiniest scrapes of his beveled nails over the skin. This is what Taiga really wants - for someone to trace over his lines and scars, to rewrite his awful history with their pretty fingertips.

Taiga’s teeth come to rest oh so precariously on the infinite slice of air between his mouth and Romeo’s ear. “Tired of this.”

“Of what?” Romeo can tell he’s not talking about ‘this.’

“All this bullshit…” Taiga mumbles, tucking his hands around Romeo’s waist, moving with all the dexterity of a drunk.

Oh. That.

Romeo would rather this be a literal face-to-face conversation, but sometimes one must take the hand one is dealt. He sighs and nudges Taiga’s head with his own, breathing deep, all the way down until his lungs hurt. “I am, too.”

Taiga pushes himself away enough to lean down and nuzzle his face into the crook of Romeo’s neck, making it clear how badly he could mar the delicate skin if he felt like it. “Then stop it,” he insists.

Romeo is losing his will to fight, losing his ability to care, losing himself in the scent of Taiga’s hair. It’s nothing like his own, or like Leo’s. It’s not obsessively clean or conditioned within an inch of its life or preened to a fault - it’s honestly pretty gross, hasn’t been washed in long enough that he can tell, it’s oily and dirty and why does it smell so good, it’s fucking intoxicating - something about Taiga’s skin itself, something inherent, something that can’t be purchased or manufactured or fabricated.

Something real. That’s what it is about Taiga, isn’t it? He’s always real.

Romeo feels himself falling, sort of backwards and sort of just down, trying to stay on the couch until Taiga grabs him by the waist and yanks him down to the floor, rolling with the momentum so that Romeo ends up on the floor with Taiga grinning down at him. Taiga is showing an uncharacteristic amount of self-restraint - in months past, by this point, there would be at least some damage to Romeo’s clothing. Romeo’s eyes flutter shut as the memories - and the desire - spill into his mind.

“Look at me, Lu-Lu.”

Cold, smooth metal slides over his forehead, sweeping his hair aside, and Romeo opens his eyes halfway to see the backs of Taiga’s jeweled fingers framing his view of the captain. Black nails sharpened into points draw soft, irregular shapes on his sculpted cheekbones.

“You wanna know why.”

“What-?” Romeo frowned through the haze currently clouding his judgment. It was dark - too dark to see Taiga clearly, but enough light glinted off of those scissor-blade teeth to tell he was grinning. “Hng!”

Taiga dug a thumbnail into the thick, pulsing artery in Romeo’s neck. “You wanna know why I keep my nails long.” It wasn’t a question. “Because…”

Taiga’s face was suddenly a mere breath away. Moonlight blinked in his acid-green irises.

“Because you have such pretty eyes,” he murmured softly. The planes of his teeth punctuated the kisses he left beneath each one. “I’ll never find anyone else with eyes prettier than yours.”

Romeo looked as confused as he felt.

“But…just in case…” Taiga’s free hand ghosted over Romeo’s face, brushing the tip of his nose, before the edge of a nail stuck firmly - but not painfully - into the dewy, silken skin of his lower eyelid. “…in case I do find prettier ones…” His voice dropped to the lowest, most intimate whisper. “…I’ll be able to gouge them out…and give them to you.”

Romeo couldn’t breathe. Luckily, thanks to Taiga’s mouth eviscerating his, he didn’t have to.

But then the bickering started, and Taiga had started shortening his nails. Romeo thought he was clipping them (like a normal person), but closer inspection revealed tiny cuts on his fingertips and cuticles and knuckles. He was biting them back, uncaring of the damage he dealt to himself like a bad hand in poker. To anyone who got close enough to notice, it was a nervous habit.

To Romeo, it meant Taiga no longer cared. Not enough to commit grievous bodily harm on his behalf, anyway.

But his nails are sharp again. How long had they been sharp again? How blind had Romeo been, really? Had they really been fighting for that long that he hadn’t noticed?

Taiga’s rings slightly cool the fever burning through his skin. “You still have the prettiest eyes,” Taiga says wistfully.

Romeo manages to push himself up on his elbows and smirk at him. “I know that.”

Taiga bends low and kisses him, really kisses him, tongue curling languidly and shamelessly around Romeo’s, dissolving his favorite weapon into a mess of heartbeats and desperately pawing hands. Taiga grips one wrist and brings the deadly fingers close to his teeth, slicing neatly into one with the tapered edge of a tooth, eliciting a pained whine from Romeo that hides much darker wishes beneath the surface.

Taiga never blinks as he licks the blood away from Romeo’s trigger finger. “And you always will.”

x

[transdimensional-void]

now that we've got the official ending of the series (pending further additions)...

my personal thinking about the near-future of alexandria's archducal family is that myne will focus on increasing the size of the family through adoption.

i think it's pretty obvious that both myne and ferdinand will be extremely reluctant to take additional partners. nevertheless, this is a greater duchy, and they currently have one (1) adult archducal family member. myne has adult-level mana, sure, but that's still only two adult family members with one child who is barely RA age.

that means that (elvira's comments notwithstanding), it's unlikely they will be in a position for rozemyne to get pregnant anytime soon. pregnancy means she will not be able to use her mana to support the duchy, leaving only ferdinand and letizia to bear the entire burden. that means it will be difficult for them to increase the number of archducal family members that way for some time.

what's more, the example of sylvester shows that no matter how little you wish to take additional spouses, the needs of your duchy might still require it. archdukes and archduchesses use marriages not only to increase the size of their family but also to balance faction power and form alliances, so refusing to take additional spouses can really destabilize the political situation.

i think the solution is some well-chosen adoptions. we know they're already planning to adopt letizia once they bind their stars. letizia already has her own faction within alexandria, made up largely of the former first wife's followers. while it was reduced in numbers during the lanzenave invasion, it's not entirely gone. adopting letizia will keep her faction associated with the archducal family.

there is also benedicta, the daughter of alstede and blasius. her parents were both former archduke candidates, meaning she should have enough mana to also become an archduke candidat. either baptizing her as their own daughter or having her baptized as part of an archnoble family and then adopting her would be a way to increase their family while also extending an olive branch to georgine/the former second wife's faction.

we don't know much about other possible factions within alexandria, but if there are any others which need to be taken into consideration, of course myne could adopt suitable children from within those factions as well, thus using adoption the same way aubs typically use marriage to balance faction power. one caveat there is that i think myne would be reluctant to take a child away from their family. in letizia and benedicta's cases, they've been left with no other family. there are other orphans from the recent conflicts, so perhaps there might be other candidates for adoption among them.

similarly, i don't see myne doing what letizia's grandmother did and adopting a family member's child. eckhart and cornelius are both her brothers and are both descended from archdukes, so their children might have enough mana to enter the archducal family, but i simply don't see myne being willing to do the same thing to them that was done to her, no matter how badly the archducal family needs more members. sylvester, charlotte, or brunhilde might be willing to negotiate an adoption as well, but i think the same principal would apply there.

what's more, i think myne and ferdinand are both interested in her serving as aub for the minimum amount of time necessary. that means, as soon as they have raised a successor (letizia, benedicta, their own child, or another adoptee) to the point that they are ready to take over, myne will be ceding the aub's seat. that will also allow her to cede the responsibility for increasing the archducal family, meaning she can leave it up to the next generation to form large numbers of marriage alliances.

in conclusion, i think the narrative has set up myne to skirt the issue of taking additional spouses through adoption!

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

"why? you jealous?"

↖ navigation: enhypen masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: bf! sunghoon x gn! reader

↬ tags: school! au, cold! hoon x hot! reader troupe, lowkey relationship!!, the rest of ENHA being part of the student council + hoonie and you being the presidents, sunghoon being a needy little bf despite that tough! icy! exterior!!, a bit of a slow build up and fast ending but i think it's worth it!!

summary: power couple of the school? couldn't be sunghoon and you!

word count: 1.4k words

a/n: just been to fate concert in sg (20.1.24)--suffice to say my love for them has rekindled hehe

the annoying whirr of the fans in the room was the only sound sunghoon could register, yet it was also the only thing that was keeping him sane in this very tensed room. sunghoon rubs the back of his neck as he half-heartedly flips the papers in front of him, eyes nearly crossing from the sheer number to things to be accounted for. he twirled the pen in his hand, occasionally writing things that came to his mind.

the entire student council was in a frenzy: a new event had been handed to them and they had only less than one month to get everything ready. from planning, to getting the materials and manpower, to executing...

sunghoon sighs at the overwhelming amount of things to be done. his members bustled around him, low murmurs slowly increasing in volume out of agitation and confusion.

at that moment, the door opens and he tears his attention away from the stack, before looking in your direction. you stood at the door, eyes sparkling at the sight of your members hard at work.

"pres, you're here!"

relief seemed to pour out from all the members as you stepped into the room. the comforting aura emmanating from you was incredibly magnetic and everyone immediately gathers around you. you laughed and suddenly sunghoon finds it easier to breathe.

"okay, okay. let me put down my things and we can go through all of these, alright?" you set your bag down on the floor, seating beside sunghoon at the head of the table. those two spots were specially reserved for you two, being presidents of the council.

polar opposites were what people described the both of you: the moniker "ice prince" wasn't given to him without reason--always delivering hard cold truths with the purpose to correct; whereas you had been humorously yet lovingly nicknamed "blazing heart" by many for your passionate leading and warmheartedness in the student council. however the number of projects the two of you led had caused a stir amidst the student body: they had thoroughly obsessed over the fact that you two looked great together.

he snaps out of his daydream, hoping he didn't look stupid in front of you.

"pres? i need your help with this." you sat poised as you received the papers from sunoo and niki, the treasurer and secretary respectively. he propped his elbow up on the table, head leaning against it as he watches your interaction. sunghoon's documents could wait for a bit.

the whole room seemed warmer with you around: you smile gently at sunoo, pointing out the areas that needed correction. niki sheepishly frowns, apologizing for the mistake that you mentioned. their entire demeanor changed after receiving your insight, walking away as if they were changed people. sunghoon moves the stack of papers towards you, but got interrupted yet again.

sunghoon observes again--a little irked--as jungwon, the council's welfare head, shows you something on his tablet and you once again thoughtfully suggested changes without belittling his ideas, giving him a thumbs up as jungwon happily skipped away now that he has gotten your approval. you finally turn to sunghoon and he feels his entire being set ablaze under your gaze, but your attention was cast to the members in the room.

you leaned sideways. "has it been this tense this entire morning?" you whispered, one hand cupping the side of your mouth. he gives a curt nod and you sigh, smile never once leaving your face. you cleared your throat and announced, "snacks are on me today! let's work hard!"

choruses of "thank you!" and "you're the best!" rang and sunghoon can't help but smirk at the heart-warming way you boost the team's morale. sunghoon opens his mouth wanting to ask you for your opinions, when the publicity head heeseung, shows you a few designs. he sighs.

you nod at heeseung, selecting two out of the five he presented. sunghoon felt something snap in him: he'd been trying to get you to notice him, but his members...!

you placed your hand on his forearm, eyes still trained on the posters heeseung was holding. sunghoon felt chills shoot up his spine at how you were subtly telling him to wait.

"okay, i got it. i will go and make several copies to stick around school...and maybe you can attend to our deputy president." sunghoon tries to school his expression, and as heeseung shooes away a confused jay and jake, getting the two of them to follow him.

trust heeseung to set him up with you...he doesn't know anything.

"sorry hoon. you were saying?" he temps down the fluttery feeling in his heart at the sound of your nickname for him leaving your lips. "nothing. i needed you to look at this." you skimmed through the documents, slowly nodding with satisfaction, before smiling wryly at him, "this is good! also you didn't need to wait till i came...you do know you have as much power as i do, right?"

sunghoon leans back, "well, the members do prefer listening to you rather than me. plus, it is certainly more rewarding getting your approval. i like that." you flushed at his words, bumping shoulders with him, "dont say that. they greatly respect you as much as they do for me, okay? that's why this role is selected by them for the both of us." he huffs at your zeal, face feeling warm as he agrees with you.

silence then envelops the two of you as everyone focused. time seemed to tick away faster now that you were with him in his little bubble. he relishes in the fact that you two were partners, and basked in your reassurance.

you immensely motivate him, constructive feedback a form of banter between the both of you as sunghoon speaks his mind around you, while your ideas bounced off his in a synergistc manner. under your insistent encouragement, sunghoon gathers everyone and discussed the various deadlines to meet, eyes set on you as you supported him with a big smile. the members were greatly satisfied with the direction of the event, praising the several ideas brought up by the both of you.

the tension bleeds away and idle chatter filling the air. you beckoned sunghoon to follow you, telling everyone that the both of you will be getting snacks from the nearby mini-mart, earning whoops of excitement.

he strolls uneasily beside you, itching to grab your hand, but abruptly stopping when other students murmured, directing their curious gaze towards the presidents of the student councils. praises leaves their lips as they gush at how you two complimented each other.

well, only if they knew...

the mini-mart was quiet, save for the ahjumma at the cashier talking loudly into her phone. he trails behind you like an excitable puppy but stops as he chatises himself for breaking his cool image for you. a sigh later and he speeds up to grab your wrist from behind you: he couldn't stand it any longer.

"hoonie, what should we get--!" sunghoon pulls you to him, lips colliding with yours mid sentence. his hands land on your waist possessively as your eyelids flutter shut when he deepens the kiss. he finally pulls away, a small smirk tugging on his lips upon the sight of your very red face.

"w-what was that for?!" you embarrassedly hid your face in his broad chest, and he chuckles at the sight of you: the normally composed, cheery president reduced to crumbles from a mere kiss. grasping your shoulders, he gently pulls you away from him and presses another kiss to your forehead, "i just missed you."

if even possible, sunghoon feels like his eyes were practically oozing love: just looking at you gives him butterflies. you reciprocated the kiss with a tight hug, joking, "i didn't know you needed my attention this much, my ice prince."

sunghoon's face turned incredibly warm at the nickname and he coughs. your eyes sparkled as you hid your grin behind your hand, "why, you jealous?"

"no. i mean, well yes, i was. you were so busy catering to our members you...forgot to pay attention to me." he rushed through his words, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. sunghoon felt a little silly asking for your attention like this, but how was he to when you were practically shining and everyone's eyes were on you?

"come here." you whispered and he gratefully accepts your invitation. you embrace sunghoon tightly, and he exhales deeply. "if you wanted me to even breathe in your direction, tell me. you're as important of a priority as everything else that's going on, mm?"

sunghoon nods at the reassurance, a burden lifted off his chest. he stands there a little dumbfounded as you give him a chaste kiss, walking away as if you hadn't nearly caused his knees to buckle.

"i want another kiss! please!"

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[afewproblems]

21 from the angst prompt list with Steddie could be devastating or silly. But I’m a big fan of devastating especially when you do it!

Prompt 21: This isn't What It Looks Like

Thank you so much for sending this in Nonny! I hope that I've done the request justice! 😊 I thought that this would fit really well in my WIP Lost and Lonely Just Like Heaven, ghost Eddie AU. You don't necessarily have to read it to still enjoy the feels (which a definitely inspired by the new Stranger Things Season Five set photos) but I would recommend it!

Anyways, please enjoy!

***

"Boy, you have about ten seconds to get the hell outta here before I put my foot up your ass," a gruff voice barks out from behind Steve. 

It's drizzling this morning, the drops make an audible pattern across the grass and stones around them and an ominous grumble of thunder in the distance threatens more to come.

Steve drops the rag in the bucket he brought with him and lifts his hands up; he knows who is standing behind him without turning around.

Wayne Munson. 

He has the same drawl in his voice that Eddie did, though slightly more pronounced, and really, who else would be here this early on a Sunday morning? 

"This isn't what it looks like," Steve says as he turns, still crouched down beside the gravestone, the new graffiti stands out, angry and red against the gray stone.

 

He gestures slowly at the bucket of soapy water and the brush hanging off the side, watching as the older man's eyes narrow slightly. 

Wayne looks tired, more haggard than when Steve had seen him at the school during the disaster relief event. His denim jack hangs off of his shoulders and no amount of salt and pepper stubble can hide the way his cheeks have become so gaunt. 

"Haven't we been through enough," Wayne sighs heavily as he raises a hand to wipe down over his face, "you have to take away an old man's place to mourn his boy? I know what you people thought of him".

"Mr. Munson, please," Steve slowly stands up and takes a deep breath, "I'm a friend of Dustin's, I just wanted to help".

He points at the bucket again, "he hasn't been…" Steve swallows a heavy lump in his throat as he thinks of the way Dustin had sent him away the last time he went to see him. 

"He hasn't been good since…everything happened, and I just want to help because I know Eddie meant the world to him, to both of you". 

He doesn't mention the man standing in his peripheral vision, watching them both with a sad smile on his pale, scarred face. 

He also doesn't mention the way Dustin looked at Steve when he told him to get out of his life.

Steve blinks, ignoring the sharp sting in his nose as he tries to will away the moisture gathering at his lash line.

Eddie mouths something at him, but he can't hear it over the sound of the rain as the patter increases into a downpour. 

He blinks again and Eddie is gone.

Steve considers telling Wayne, but the other man still looks like he's about five seconds from telling Steve to go fuck himself, and if Dustin wasn't ready to hear it, he's certain Wayne won't be either.

Wayne is still staring at Steve, his jaw shifts as though he's chewing on the words he wants to say, 

"That boy, Dustin," Wayne says softly now, "he's a good kid, s'the only other one who came to talk to me other than Ed's band mates".

Steve nods, he knows Dustin is a good kid, that's part of the reason why his dismissal the other night hurt so goddamn much.

"I just want to make things better," Steve whispers into the rain, he watches as his breath collects in front of him in the cool morning air. 

Wayne shakes his head, gesturing at the head stone, the one with bright red words painted across the name Edward Munson. 

"There is no better kid, not for me at least". 

He sighs, long and low, and reaches into his jacket pocket for a crumpled pack of smokes. Wayne pulls a lighter from the same pack and cups his hand over the igniter to save it from the rain, flicking it again and again until he throws the plastic away from himself with shaking hands. 

Wayne drops the unlit cigarette into the wet grass and fixes Steve with a new angry glare, "you should go, we don't need any help, you're just going to draw more attention to it".

"But--"

"I told you to go," Wayne barks out, his pale face flushes as he takes a step towards Steve and the gravestone, "I don't know you from Adam, and I'm sure you mean well".

Steve takes a step back in surprise, and hurt, he wishes Robin had come with him. She was always better at explaining things, even if her word vomit often got them into more trouble than they were aiming for, she still managed to get the words out. 

"I won't ask again," Wayne says softly now, his face turned away towards the edge of the cemetery. 

Steve swallows hard and nods. He picks up the bucket from the ground and slowly makes his way back to the sidewalk. 

Steve takes a deep breath, forcing himself not to turn around, even as he hears Wayne fall to his knees at the grave. The thunder does nothing to drown out the way the older man begins to cry. 

[bardicious]

Hi friend do you have any Charles/Erik fic recommendations of a gentle variety? I watched the First Class era recently and am just….a lil broken up Re:: the pain of Charles losing his best friend and his sister at the same time… and then bottling up that pain for as long as he could until “you took her away and you left me!”

Okay, nonnie! I've got a few here that may interest you. Now, I'm a big fan of hurt/comfort fics, so I can't promise anything too gentle, unfortunately. 😅 (Most of my bookmarks are hella dark apparently) Anyway! Ill list you some I recently read, and mostly remember.

How Still My Love by Regann

"A mysterious sleeping disease, three loyal guardians, and a friend-turned-foe with unclear motives. It might sound like something out of a fairy tale but it's life after Cuba in the Xavier manor for what's left of the so-called X-Men. When Charles can no longer lead them, it's up to Hank, Alex and Sean to figure out a way to protect their mentor, especially once Erik comes seeking an audience. (Variously nicknamed "the Fairytale Fix-it," "Snow Charles and the Three Wishes," and "Alex feels via Charles/Erik." All three are pretty accurate.)"

This one I highly recommend, it's so cute, and the way the author played with fairy tales is fun. Fair warning tho, Erik doesn't stay at the end of this fic. But Charles' heart is a bit more mended.

Second Chances by justavagrant

This one is a time travel fic. Basically young child age Charles, Raven, and Erik replace their older counterparts. The kids build a close friendship real quick, and I believe it's ongoing.

Another Like Me by Ad_astrah

It's 1950, young Charles is getting his powers under control. He meets Erik, 19 years old, who's tracking down Nazis and killing them. They go on a little adventure together.

Elpis by garrideb

Cute protective Erik, injured Charles. This fic is a treat!

Not Yet by GenuineSnoof

"AU - No Beach Divorce and no bullet, but Erik still didn't stay at the school for good. They have an established "with benefits" relationship."

Cold Hands, Warm Heart by pinkoptics

Cherik fic set in Genosha!

Idiot Control Now by cygnaut

"Hank screws something up in the lab and everyone's powers increase tenfold. Not knowing how to control them like this, they all try to cope and not kill each other by mistake while Hank tries to find a way to reverse the effects. Charles has a particularly hard time of it."

Come Together by blarfkey

Series of fics, from Peter's point of view. Decent amounts of Cherik.

Peter's Stepdad by nzeedee

"Peter takes his time to observe and learn more about Erik as he works up the courage to make a family connection. Soon he realizes that Charles is a valuable asset in Erik's life and they may come as a unified pair."

AND some honorable mentions:

First Class Era:

5 Ways Logan Fixed Everything (Like a Boss) by Starlingthefool

Reverse Polarity by smilebackwards (powerswap fic, can't remember well tho)

What Not To Expect When You're Not Expecting It by thehoyden (mpreg, but if you're not into that, I'm not usually either, I think this one was done in a fun way)

DOFP:

A source of knowledge, a source of hope by redaurorarora

Post/Apocalypse: (these might be my favorite, I'm a sucker for comforting charles after apocalypse)

More by humanveil

things we lost in the fire by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

all the things i thought I knew (I'm learning again) by spacenarwhal

Hope you like these, nonnie! Sorry if they couldn't be more gentle! I do hope they're more satisfying than the end of FC. 💀 I know your pain.

[dissociacrip]

this turned into a long adhd rant whoopsie

it really does suck how people seem to downplay autism and adhd now lol. autism has been reduced to people who can mask and have low support needs and adhd hasn't really changed from its status as a joke.

i don't talk about adhd much but it probably gets in the way of me being able to function just as much, if not more than autism does (in my personal situation) when it comes to mental disability. not showering enough. not cooking. not cleaning my living space properly. forgetting to brush my teeth. dishes sitting in the sink for so long they start getting moldy. only being able to maybe do 1-3 tasks a day maximum because my brain can't organize itself enough to do more than that. difficulty committing to things and being consistent in overarching ways. being late to things a lot. highly impaired verbal recall so i forget things people say to me, forget verbal instructions, etc. on top of the other acutely stressful situations that come with memory and regulating my attention span (e.g. locking my keys in my car or locking myself out of my house when i have a very limited support network to remediate those situations.)

my meds barely touch this stuff for me and i'm not especially inclined to increase the dosage after bordering on psychosis when i was taking 40mg of vyvanse. i've just become so accustomed to living the way that i do (because my case is pretty bad afaik) so i can't just will myself to be another way. any efforts i make to change or be more organized and routine and consistent end up getting dashed away because i just cannot do it lol. my shit just doesn't work. adhd is a massive barrier between me and being a functioning person or being able to take care of myself. i'm pretty sure would still be a "gross" and unpalatable disabled person even if my muscles worked and i didn't have POTS/etc. that also get in the way of my hygiene and the cleanliness of my living space.

that doesn't even go into how other people react to it. a good chunk of physical and verbal abuse i faced from my family as a child was related to my adhd symptoms. i was diagnosed at a young age but my parents "forgot" it happened and it was never addressed otherwise. i got constantly called disgusting for my hygiene problems and was threatened with violence over it (on top of the times where i was actually getting assaulted.) people take my impaired verbal recall and lack of impulse control irt accidentally cutting people off or interrupting them personally, accusing me of not caring enough when it's something that is extremely difficult to be aware of or manage when adhd is a condition that distinctly involves impaired awareness of your own behavior.

so when i see shit like "just set alarms" or anything else that amounts to "you're not trying hard enough" or adhd not very much being a disability, especially when it's coming from other people w/ adhd, it kinda makes me wanna stab things with knives.

sure, it's not the worst condition ever, but just like most other disabilities, the way it affects everyone who is it is different and some are gonna be able to manage it better than others. sure, there a lot of really fucking annoying people (usually able-bodied) w/ adhd on social media that have large platforms and who very often profit from or encourage liberal pop psych bullshit when it comes to adhd, but it's still very much a disability. it can affect hygiene. it can affect employment or otherwise means of earning an income. it can affect our social lives and whether we have a support system. it can affect whether someone can keep their house from getting infested with bugs or mold. it is very much something that causes dysfunction in ways that aren't nearly as cutesy as the little comics you might see on instagram are drawn.

just remember that.

[dragon-pups]

You know I've seen a decent amount of post questioning how the batch ever managed without Echo or Omega. So I've come out of my hibernation to explain from my own experience as a chaotic bitch and an adult being with responsibilities to other living beings. I can go from no thought head empty only bonk to what are you doing? don't eat that! where are your shoes its raining?! It just depends on the group.

So we all now know that Crosshair and Hunter physical fight like all siblings have and still do, hells I just watched a pair of my cousin, my adult cousins, fight to the point of actually scrapping on the ground over something not that important and in two hours they were lounging against each other watching videos and sharing memes. Siblings do this shit. We also know that they also have some verbal only spats like some small ones we've seen between Wrecker and Tech. Also normal.

What is also normal is the transference of responsibility between members of groups. Depending on the members present at the time.

Like in a family group if the parents leave for a time and there is an eldest sibling home then that sibling, depending how they were raised, will most likely increase the responsible behavior to care for the younger, or at least see them alive til the parents come home.

Or in friend groups, yeh know the "mom friend" they one that could be anything from an always assertive person to someone who couldn't speak up for themselves but will absolutely maul a bitch that insults their friends. While they may be the leash holder for one set of friends they could very well be the fuck lit dynamite stick of another, or even of the same set of friends if you add an even more mom friend to the equation. Or the opposite if you take away a mom friend one of the chaos gremlins may take up the mantle of responsibility.

That being said, the batch are brother they fight, but off the top of my head I don't remember in the few interacts before order 66 of Cross and Hunter physically or verbally fighting during a misson, with each other, but we didn't get to see much. Hunter was the responsible one, the leader. It's only once Echo was back in the picture during season 3 that it got physically during a mission. Which makes sense, Echo is Hunter's Corporal he has the rank and the experience to take charge in Hunters place. So Hunter doesn't have to be as tight, and to be fair anger will break anyone out of a responsible headspace.

I'm also extremely certain that Echo being an ARC and being from the 501st means that when Hunter is in charge that he is also a chaos gremlin.

So yeh it makes sense for them to fight with each other especially during this whole debacle. But they're highly trained soldiers they had to be efficient the entirety of their lives, I say they get to be little shits on camera as a treat.

PS I also know that the whole "the batch couldn't manage without Echo" thing is a joke. I just thought it would be a good thought experiment and behavior dissection.

[angryschnauzer]

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 4

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Story Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing

Wordcount: 2689

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,

  I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 4

The farmers market was busy, the sunshine and good weather always bringing people out to enjoy what the town had to offer, and as the summer approached the amount of tourists increased too. From the moment Sy had set up there had been a steady stream of customers stopping by his stand, but at every given chance he would be looking around, trying to find one particular face in the crowds. 

It was one such moment when he was looking away did someone clear their throat, to which he was a little startled by as he turned and spotted an older man in his late 60s standing beside his stand holding a jar of honey;

“You make this?”

He spoke with a strong Italian accent.

“I do Sir. Would you like to try it?”

“And the bees, they are local, yes?”

“Yes Sir, the hives are on the meadow as you head West out of town”

“Ah, so not far, hmmn”

The older man held the jar up to the light, watching as the amber liquid glinted in the sunlight. Sy bit back his smile, he knew exactly who this was, although had never met in person before as he turned back to him;

“Is it good to cook with?”

“It would be perfect for the dip to go with the churros. Though a Jalapeno would work better with this rather than the red chilli’s you already use”

There was a moment of quiet, before the older man finally smiled and held his hand out;

“Antonio Cosentino”

“Lucas Syverson”

“Good to meet you Mr Syverson. I saw you in my restaurant last night with your lovely lady”

Sy smiled at the mention of you;

“Yeah, she’s great. She actually suggested i approach you about the honey”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders” he leant forwards; “And a good pair of burrata… if i was 30 years younger you’d have some competition i tell you that” 

He held his hands out in front of him in a cupping motion and Sy did his best not to laugh too much at the old Italian commenting about your breasts and likening them to the shape of balls of fresh mozzarella cheese. Instead Sy diplomatically changed the conversation;

“I tell you what Mr Cosentino, take that jar - it's on me - put it on the menu tonight and i’ll swing by on Monday for an espresso, you can tell me what you think”

Antonio held out his hand and gave Sy’s a firm shake;

“You have a deal… and you said espresso without the ‘x’ so you already have gone up in my book”

“I spent a couple of months in Italy on special assignment with the Pozzuolo del Friuli after my last tour of Iraq, you only say it with an x once when you are with them”

“Bosnia?”

Sy shook his head;

“Before my time with them. Assisted with peacekeeping in Lebanon”

Antonio nodded solemnly;

“You’re a good man” he held up the honey; “Grazie. 11 o’clock on Monday?”

“Sounds good”

As Sy watched the old man walk away he smiled but it was bittersweet. His time with the Italian’s had been his last in the forces, and the sights he’d seen in Lebanon had made him question a lot of things, but had been a deciding factor in leaving the Army. He took a deep breath and looked around the market, taking in the bustling crowds and happy faces. He glanced up to the higher walkway that surrounded the market place and saw a sight that lifted his mood immediately; you.

-

You were surprised at how busy downtown was, but then it was also approaching lunchtime so there was the lunch crowd out as well as locals doing their shopping and people just enjoying the sunshine.

After sleeping in late you did some chores before Tamara swung by to drop the books off she’d borrowed and had offered you a ride into town, but you’d declined as a walk in the sunshine was just what the doctor ordered after the indulgences of dinner the previous evening.

Once you’d stopped at the post office and mailed the original manuscripts for the SATS test papers you’d finalised, you just had a couple more errands to run before you made a trip to the market. It wasn’t that you were nervous about seeing Sy, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much once you’d seen him, so you got as much done as possible before that eventuality. As you came out of the post office you recognised a tall burly figure crossing the road towards you, a very familiar dog on the end of a leash trotting alongside him. For a moment you stood and watched as Sheriff Marshall and Akia approached, noting how the dog was as obedient for him as she was for Sy. He passed you without noticing, but Akia started to drop behind, turning to look back at you;

“C’mon girl” Walter tugged gently on the leash but instead the dog just planted her butt on the sidewalk, looking back at you. The hulking Sheriff finally turned and looked up to where Akia was staring, before a moment of recognition. Looking back down at the dog he spoke;

“Do you want to go and say hello?”

Akia stood and wagged her tail, to which he let her trot along the sidewalk to where you were standing;

“Hi”

“Morning Sheriff”

He held his hand out to you;

“I guess as my cousin is dating you, you could call me Walter”

Shaking his hand you smiled at the normally grumpy Sheriff, before Akia let out a quiet ‘wuff’ and you moved your attention to her;

“Have you been a good girl?”

The big dog got all wriggly like a puppy before laying on the pavement and showing you her belly, which you obliged and gave her a quick tummy rub;

“You big softie” standing you smiled at Walter; “So Sy said we’re dating?”

Walter nodded, before gesturing to say he was going to continue walking which you nodded in agreement too, Akia moving and falling into step between you;

“He called me after your date last night, he was so happy” he paused; “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but it’s been a while since he let anyone this close, even longer since he admitted his feelings to me”

You nodded;

“I really like him too, I just want to take things slow at first, you know?”

Walter nodded, as he did in fact know. You’d made a point when you first moved to the town to make an appointment with him and give him details of the restraining order, and he had quietly taken in the information you’d given him. He’d assured you it was a safe, tight knit community, and would make sure your new identity was kept private.

As you turned the corner and walked alongside the railings you could look over the market, spotting Sy’s yellow sunshade immediately. He gave you a wave and smiled before turning his attention back to his customer, Walter clearing his throat;

“Just… be honest with him. I know you don’t have to tell him anything, but…”

“I know. He’s my first relationship since. When the time comes i’ll tell him”

“Thank you” Walter said quietly.

As you approached Sy’s stand Akia picked up his scent and started to strain on the leash, excited to see him again. Once it was safe and there was a clear light of sight, Walter let the leash drop and you watched as the big dog ran to the stand and shuffled under the table, sitting on her haunches as she almost vibrated with excitement whilst Sy handed the customer their change. He turned to her and smiled;

“Have you been a good girl?”

“Wuff”

“Did you chase racoons at Uncle Walters house?”

The response was a whine, to which Akia was greeted with an enthusiastic face rub as Sy called her a good girl and gave her rump a couple of friendly pats with the palm of his hand. Your mind focused on that, how he was gentle but firm, and you wondered how the palm of his hand would feel doing that against your own ass.

“If you ask him nicely he will”

You hadn’t even realised Walter had moved in close until he’d whispered in your ear, but you felt the heat rise to your face immediately;

“I didn’t say that out loud did I?”

“You didn’t need to. I could see your mind working and where your gaze was trained”

You smiled;

“You should be a detective”

“I was. Much prefer this” he grinned at you, before turning to Sy and checking in with him briefly until a local came up to him and started to draw him into a conversation about nuisance speeders on the North road out of town.

“There’s my girl”

Turning to Sy, you were a little taken back by his public show of affection, but didn’t shy away from it. Resting your hands on his chest you smiled as he pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was warm and welcoming, and held just a little promise of more had it not for standing somewhere incredibly public.

“Come sit in the shade with me”

He took your hand and led you around the table, pulling out a second camping chair for you. He delved into a cooler and pulled out three bottles of water and a metal bowl, filling the bowl for Akia before handing you a bottle.

“Thanks. How’s it gone this morning?”

“Busy. Lots of weekenders from out of state”

Just at that moment more customers turned up, and you watched from the shade as Sy worked his sales magic, their purchase list soon growing;

“... and they’re the bath fizzers, simply run a hot bath and pop one in. The honey helps moisturise and the locally grown lavender helps relaxation”

The tourist nodded;

“Is the lavender local? I don’t like that artificially scented stuff”

“Grown right here in town by the lovely lady in the shade”

You looked up and waved, and that seemed to reassure all of the customer’s thoughts on the product, who happily nodded and asked for three. Once they’d left Sy turned to you and pulled a small paper bag out from one of the storage totes he carried stock in to the market;

“For you”

Taking the bag from him you peered inside and saw there were a pair of bath fizzers in the bag;

“Oh, thanks”

You realised your reply hadn’t been as enthusiastic as he was probably expecting, looking up just as a customer arrived but you didn’t fail to miss the slight look of disappointment on his face. For a moment you weren’t sure what to do or say, but as the customer left you stood next to Sy;

“Thank you, really. They smell amazing… would they work in a shower?” Sy blinked a couple of times, trying to process his emotions before you continued; “I don’t have a bath”

“Oh. OH”

“I’m not disappointed Sy, i really do like them, they smell absolutely amazing”

He let out a deep breath;

“But without a bath… yeah, I get that. Sorry, I didn't mean to get pouty” he smiled at you.

“Don’t apologise, please. I should have explained”

For a moment you both just stood there, the bag of bath fizzers awkwardly between you before you set it down;

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat a horse”

You laughed;

“How about some tacos instead? I passed a stand as we walked in”

“That sounds good”

Ten minutes later you’d returned from the authentic Mexican food truck with two take out dishes of their best tacos, sliding in behind the table at Sy’s stand and handing him a box. As the stand was quiet you both took a seat, eating in silence before you took a rest between your 2nd and 3rd tacos.

“Everything alright?”

You nodded and rubbed your stomach;

“They’re really filling, just taking a break”

Although he didn’t have to, Sy sat back and paused his eating;

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure”

“You can tell me to fuck off if it’s personal, but I kinda thought all girls loved baths? Like if you remodel a chick’s place the first thing they do is install a fuck off enormous tub”

“Well, it is personal but i’ll tell you the short version; I was in a car accident a few years ago where the car ended up going into a river in the middle of winter. I now can’t cope with being surrounded by cold water… and baths get cold no matter how hot you run them”

Sy nodded thoughtfully;

“I understand” he paused; “If there was a way to guarantee the water stays hot no matter how long you were in the water, would you consider it?”

It was your turn to pause and consider what he was saying;

“Possibly. I never really looked into it. I just know i didn’t want to be surrounded by cold water and i was super happy with my walk in steam shower”

“Now that does sound nice” Sy agreed 

In a moment of bravado you lowered your voice;

“I look forward to showing you how nice”

It was Sy’s turn to blush, the moment interrupted by a customer. You settled back in your chair when a furry snout rested itself on your lap, the drool from Akia’s mouth soon seeping through your dress;

“Yes i got something for you too Akia” before pulling a small plastic bag from the corner of your takeout box; “One burnt end of the brisket”

As the dog happily crunched away on the small morsel you watched Sy, taking in how his ass looked in jeans, how the fabric clung to his thighs. No flannel shirt in the heat, instead he wore a red t-shirt, the fabric taut across his wide shoulders.Your mind wandered to how he’d pushed one of those meaty thighs between your own as you’d kissed on your porch, and the thought of him doing that to you without any clothing barriers between you, in your shower no less, was something you were more than happy to let your mind drift off to.

-

As the afternoon grew late and the flow of customers waned, Sy sat next to you again and looked around;

“Thanks for the company today, sometimes these things can get a bit boring without anyone to talk to apart from Akia”

“It was fun. You’re a good salesman, I think you could convince anyone to buy your stuff”

Sy laughed;

“I’m just a good negotiator”

Soon it was time to pack up, the market coming to an end. You happily stayed to help as it wasn’t like you had anything other than a book waiting for you at home, and babysitting Akia as Sy went to get his truck. Once everything had been loaded he opened the passenger door and watched as you easily climbed up in your sneakers and shorts.

When he reached your place he turned to you;

“So, still on for dinner at my place tomorrow night?”

“Sounds good. What time do you want me?”

He looked you up and down, a smug grin on his face;

“Oh baby, i want you all the time”

“Sy!” you laughed

“Come over about four, or i can pick you up”

“It’s fine, i’ll walk across the meadow”

You leaned across the centre console of the truck and let him draw you into a deep kiss, which neither of you were in a hurry to finish until a soft whine came from the back seat and you could hear Akia’s stomach grumble;

“I’ll let you go home and feed Akia”

Sy pulled you back for one final kiss before letting you go. He watched as you crossed your yard and let yourself in, making sure you were safe inside before he left. Old protective habits die hard.

________________

Authors Note:

When the readers breasts are referred to as similar to burrata, it is referring to the size and shape, not the colour. I keep my reader race neutral so anyone can enjoy reading the story.

Chapter 5 >>>

[familyabolisher]

Apologies for bringing up a topic you've already discussed at length, but I've read through your posts on "anti-intellectualism" and completely agree with you on all counts. But I'm just now curious about how you'd define the increased culture of outright rejection of critical analysis (vague though the term is) as opposed to simple disinterest. Situations like people dismissing any deep analysis of systems, media, texts etc with "It's not that deep", or hostility towards fuller and in depth responses to statements (especially on social media with the ever prevalent "not reading that"), with the result often times being that anything requiring slight effort to engage with, or that isn't entertaining is dismissed completely.

Although I understand that these are just peoples reactions on the internet, and not systemic or material issues, I'd love to know your thoughts on how that cultural behaviour and trend could be classed, if not as anti-intellectualism.

(there are obviously a huge amount of external reasons (the attention economy, media, education etc) for people to react in that way, so I'm not blaming people personally, nor do I think everyone needs to go read Hegel and become a master critical thinker, but I do think it is a trend that has some damaging effects, especially as a response to any criticism of capitalism)

talked a little about it here—i guess i would ask what you're actually seeking to accomplish with the word "define," because there's no one explanation that can neatly account for every individual rejection of the practice of critical reading, and nor should we be seeking to find one. certainly 'anti-intellectualism' doesn't cut it, so i would just reiterate the point i made in the initial piece—how people feel about critical analysis, what their base skill level in critical analysis actually is, how that skill level is articulated, what their relationship is to the work or works in question & the respect with which they are willing to treat it are all highly contingent questions which cannot be easily explained away but instead merit thorough materialist investigation. ultimately as marxists we have to be materialists; our investigations should seek these material explanations, which means interrogating normative epistemes, education & academia, how we define "literacy" & its social use + social distribution, who benefits and who winds up disadvantaged. the "anti-intellectualism" position is broad enough to be near enough useless when it comes to articulating actionable responses; i also find it cruel.

also tbqh whilst i do get impatient when people don't "want" to engage with challenging narratives in ways that i find intellectually stimulating and would rather watch marvel film #47384 or whatever, i think it's good to take a policy of, like, blocking and moving on, curating your feed, and remembering that you don't + shouldn't have access to that person's relationship to the media landscape and the sorts of analytical tools that they may well only ever have encountered in a hostile educational setting, as well as working towards showing that engagement with "difficult" works is a) possible and b) fun and worthwhile. often people's reluctance to engage with works that have a (perceived) higher entry barrier (however ethically questionable that perception might be) simply comes from the fact that they lack/believe themselves to lack the right tools for engagement, and don't want to be made to feel "stupid" by not "getting" it—they preemptively go on the 'let people enjoy things'-esque defensive to counter this. the more candidly we talk about critical practices & the more digital airtime we give to less "mainstream" work, and the more space we give people to not understand things/to ask questions/to communicate and share ideas rather than participating in the big pissing contest of who can be the most Media Literate, the closer we get to resolving these sorts of tensions, imo.