#whew that's a lot of triggers

[bloodxhound]

​𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂.

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE.    Well-maintained leather, fresh laundry, and black coffee. If you stand in close proximity to him or he brushes past you briskly, you might get a light whiff of his cologne ( typically a blend of patchouli, black musk, mandarin, and a hint of cinnamon; an unexpectedly warm and sweet scent ). When found after nurturing a drink or two at the bar, he will faintly smell of whiskey as well. 

HOW THEY SLEEP. SLEEPING POSITION. SCHEDULE. ETC.    He has no strict sleeping schedule he adheres to. As much as he’d like to go to bed at reasonable hours, he often works late into the night when he’s not satisfied with the progress of case, and / or returns from the bar ( or a hook-up ) much later than would’ve been ideal. At which point he’ll knock out as soon as his head hits his mattress. He sleeps in whatever position feels comfortable at the moment, either nude or wearing boxer-briefs, and is sure to wake up in a different position than he fell asleep in. His sleep, when stressed, is marred by nightmares that incorporate patchy elements of his childhood trauma, causing him to thrash around on top of him being a naturally agitated sleeper. A circumstance that only worsens after quitting his job at the LAPD.

WHAT MUSIC THEY ENJOY.    Hard rock, and thrash metal. Something fast-paced and aggressive that’ll energize him during a workout. Needless to say, he also enjoys the soundtracks to the Moozilla movies. He keeps a select few CDs in his car’s glove box, in case he feels like listening to them on a ride.

HOW MUCH TIME THEY SPEND GETTING READY EACH MORNING.    A good two hours, give or take, if his exercise routine counts. He’ll have a coffee first thing after waking up, then gulp down a health & protein shake, go on a long run and do an extensive set of varying calisthenics exercise upon return — a habit he’s adopted from his years in the military. It’s rare he ever misses out on his morning training, as he will feel groggy throughout the day if he does. The remainder of the time is spent with a quick trip to the bathroom ( shower, shave, brush teeth, etc. ) before dressing, and then he’s ready to tackle the day.

FAVOURITE THING TO COLLECT.    Moozilla merch. Be it figurines, shirts, posters, soundtracks, stationery goods or whatever else strikes his fancy, he will get his hands on it. As a child he wasn’t allowed to indulge in such “frivolities” as per his father’s will, so this hobby is his way of rectifying that omission in his childhood. He also collects knives. He’s developed a strange fascination with them over the years.

LEFT OR RIGHT HANDED.    Right-handed.

FAVOURITE SPORT(S).    To play? He likes contact and collision sports like basketball, street soccer, and free-form fighting / sparring. The more competitive, the better. As someone who enjoys being active, he’s up to try anything if it’s brought up to him though, only to make it his goal to beat the other person at the sport they suggested, even if they’ve been practicing it for years. Results may vary. The only sport he watches more or less actively is wrestling, as other kinds of sport events are too dull without active participation or added storylines for entertainment purposes. 

FAVOURITE TOURISTY THING TO DO WHEN TRAVELLING.    Eating. He loves indulging in local food from restaurants, food markets, street food stalls, brewpubs, or even supermarkets. Whatever looks interesting to him is what he’ll try out next. Other things he greatly enjoys are taking in the scenery during a hike or ride on a rented motorbike, and checking out unique activities and attractions available in the area.

FAVOURITE KIND OF WEATHER.    Cool, crisp mornings that turn into sunny days with clear skies and a nice breeze. He used to be fond of thunderstorms when he was a child, but now that he spends the majority of his day working on homicide cases, he cannot help but view them as inconvenient, especially if there’s heavy downpour involved, since it will make investigating and preserving outdoor crime scenes all the more difficult.

WEIRD / OBSCURE FEAR THEY HAVE.    Needles. It’s a very strong fear, one he acquired shortly after his childhood trauma. If he can help it, he will avoid doctor’s appointments and hospital stays at any cost when he knows blood samples, IV infusions and the like are to play a part. In the event that there’s absolutely no way around such procedures, he’ll cause the medical staff all sorts of problems, from attempting to escape to raising a ruckus or ripping out the infusion needle once he’s unobserved—he’s a difficult patient through and through.

THE CARNIVAL / ARCADE GAME THEY ALWAYS WIN WITHOUT FAIL.    Any game that requires brute strength, like High Striker attractions or those boxing / kicking machines. He probably has broken one of those in the heat of the moment before.

tagged by: @lykaiia a good while ago ty ♡!  tagging: @kagoshou, @kamipyre, @edgelord-dl6, @aptlyattorney, @legalbrats​   @bloodthirstyflower, @spiritedsleuth, @eternasci, @sinsolucion, @counselheart

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

[losergames]

Chop Shop is strictly 18+ for language, themes, and potential explicit content. 

🔗 - Game Intro | Bug Report | Ko-Fi

Episode Three is now available! (+ 86,000) - PLAY HERE

Get your first taste of the underground car scene.

Meet some other players in the game.

Be made an offer.

5 achievements up for grabs!

And more!

AN: thank you so much for the patience - i've been dying to put this update out. lots of new characters and lots of variation!! there are 3 major paths to choose between in this ep, i recommend trying them all out! and thank you to my betas for keeping me sane lmao

This update comes with a patch and UI refresh (Version 1.1.2) Notes are under the cut. If preferred, you can access them in game in the start menu.

STORY

EPISODE 01:

MC should now be able to smoke! Buying cigarettes at the shop was not triggering correctly. If playing with an old save, you DO NOT have to restart as code at the beginning of EP 03 has resolved the error. Player will need to restart if they wish to read smoking related scenes in previous episodes.

Updated MC Name selection. Player can now choose from a list of names instead of having to input one to proceed.

Player can now give Taha their chocolate bar if it's in their inventory.

When asking Maz about their scars, the second choice 'You want to ask about it but you're going to keep your mouth shut.' should now take you to the correct response.

Extended and updated 'End Game' scenes.

EPISODE 02:

If MC is faint after exiting the car, but also drunk, they should now get the fainting scene, followed by Dilani helping the MC in the bathroom.

UI + TECHNICAL

SETTINGS:

Autoname Save is now defaulted to ON. This is to add ease and flow to gameplay, especially for mobile, tablet, and app users, instead of calling for an inputted saved name. If player wants to input save names, toggle Autoname Saves to OFF.

Autoname Save previously only used the forename of the MC but now includes the surname as well.

Removed the Fullscreen toggle as it is only intended for desktop use. Player can still toggle fullscreen function via the UI bar on the desktop interface.

Added a choice indicator toggle. (This probably won't come into effect until EP 04 or 05)

Changed serif font from Vollkron to EB Garamond.

OTHER:

Changing the MC's pronouns via the Dashboard has been updated. Additionally, after confirmation will take player back to the Dashboard and not close the dialog boxes entirely.

Hovering over 'Personality', 'Motives', and 'Skills' titles in the Dashboard will now display an information box with a definition. Mobile and tablet users will need to tap on the title.

'Resume Game' now only appears on the main menu when there is an autosave in the saves log.

Choices styling changes.

General UI and button style changes.

Fixed errors with the text message styling.

Added styling for reading text off of a page in game.

Darkened blue in light theme 'Skyline' to reduce eye strain.

CREATE A SAVE

Introducing Create a Save! This feature allows players to quickly manufacture a save file and start at a later point in the game.

Set your identity, appearance, history, and statistics; including personality, motives, and skills. Continue to set key decisions made in previous episodes.

Randomise options available for creating a PC and key decisions.

OTHER

Fixed gaps and spacing issues.

Minor phrasing and sentence structure changes.

Grammar and typo fixes.

whew -- that's a lot of patch notes! apologies for so much that needed to be fixed.

this update shouldn't break/ mess with saves but as a disclaimer i will say, if you spot anything funky, broken, or you don't think things are triggering correctly, try starting a new save. the new create a save feature is incredibly code heavy, and it's been tested relentlessly, but i wouldn't be surprised if something crops up.

if starting a new save doesn't resolve your issue - please submit to bug report or just send me an ask/message.

some things have been meaning to get fixed for Some Time - thank you to everyone that is using the bug report form!

apologies if there are typos and/or bugs - this was a long one to edit and my lovely betas did an OUTSTANDING job reading so much for ep 3 - thank you so much again!!! this time i am going to give it a bit more time before i put together a patch so i can grab more error responses haha.

create a save has also added a wee chunk to the word count, somewhere around 6k, but i'm not including it in the episode 03 word count as it's purely code. so, if you think the total wc is off, that's why!

if you've read this far, happy reading and thank you so much for the continued support!! :) - becky <3

[intuitive-divinations]

Are you in the mood for love? 😘

Hello darlings😙! I got a new gorgeous oracle deck today😻! It’s art inspired me to do a tarot spread on your next relationship❤️‍🔥. Take a few deep breaths 😮‍💨 and use your intuition 👁️ .

✨ Pick - A - Photo ✨

Picture 1 🌹

#26 Full Spectrum, 4 of Coins reversed, 5 of Cups, 4 of Swords, Ace of cups

Group 1, can I give you a hug first ? 🫂. Omg it seems like you’ve been going through it when it comes to your relationships😭. I sense that you gave so much of yourself to a past relationship such as an ex or situationship, etc. Now you’re feeling the loss of yourself/resources you gave. I’m seeing your energy is a battery and it’s EMPTY 🪫 . I get the feeling that this past person was deceitful in some ways. That deceit motivated you to isolate yourself and have a negative view on love. It honestly feels like you’re somewhat lonely group 1🥺. On the brightside, your next relationship will fulfill all your wants and desires. Maybe you’re past person cheated on you? I’m hearing your next person is VERY LOYAL and they’d never do you like that 💀! They literally only have eyes for you. This person also won’t be afraid to display their love for you whether it’s in public or private. They could have alot of Leo/fire placements ♌️ 🔥 . They’re going to be proud to have you🤭. Your spread is also telling me that you have to look at the bigger picture of this situation. Understand that these past failed relationships are only preparing you for the best. No more giving 100% of your love and getting only 5% back. It’s making sure that you attract someone new who is willing to make you a priority and show you how to be loved. 😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

Picture 2 🌹

#30 Healing, 7 of Swords, Ace of Wands, The Devil, The Magician

Whew 😮‍💨! Group 2 your next relationship is so co-creative 🧬 . Your next person is going to be a source of healing for you. I actually sensed angels during this reading 😇 . I got goosebumps all over my body when I asked to feel their energy as confirmation✅. You’re very protected group 2! I’m seeing that your angels are guiding you towards someone who might actually be a healer on earth 🌎 . I’m picking up on reiki masters, shamans, breathwork specialists, etc. They could also be a doctor but they would be different in some way. For example, instead of western medicine they could specialize in Ayurveda or traditional Chinese medicine. I got curious and asked what your next person will help heal within you and it said your attachments⛓️! You have some very addictive/obsessive attachments. It could go from physical attachments like drugs or it could be mental attachments like self-sabotaging beliefs etc. Regardless of what it is, your next person will trigger your healing🪬. They’ll help you discover your highest potential. It’s going to suck because you’ll be forced to overcome these things but it will be worth it in the end! 🪄Your person has a beautiful energy and it feels like they are a gift from your spirit team 🎁 . After your healing journey you could start a business venture with this person or even have children. You’ll be creating alot of things with your person🗝️. This is definitely going to be a journey for you so buckle up. 11:11 could be significant.

Picture 3 🌹

#25 Freedom, 6 of Coins, 10 of Coins, The Hermit, 3 of Wands

Group 3, y’all are my sugar babies😚! Get ready because you’re next person has alot of sugar to give🤣. They are going to offer you financial freedom. You’re next relationship is going to be with a rich person who’s very GENEROUS! They don’t mind spreading the wealth because they have a lot of it. One word to describe your persons personality would be introvert. Literally, their daily routine is getting that money and then going home and relaxing🏠. They really don’t play about getting their money💀. Taurus/Virgo placements could be significant ♉️ ♍️ . Right now your person may feel kinda lonely. They aren’t really a social party person. They still want someone to have fun with though. Someone they can create memorable experiences with🧳. Traveling is also significant🧭. I’m seeing so many trips and vacations. You are EXACTLY the person they’ve been desiring. You both will be goofy together. Im seeing that your relationship is also full of laughter. I feel like this person is manifesting you subconsciously. They are an extremely powerful manifestor. They could’ve even subconsciously manifested their wealth😳. I’m imagining their energy as a magnet 🧲. You’ll have a day where your normal routine is messed up which will then cause you to meet this person unexpectedly. Yeah they are quite literally going to manifest you into their life💀because they don’t want to change their own routine. Also you and your next person could have an age gap 🙈. Angel number for this group is 222.

Thanks so much 😽 !!

[baddestbittyontheblock]

ellie williams fic recs (2/3)

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

my absolute favs: 🌱

꒷꒦  affinity - part 1 by @whore-era ellie williams x fem!reader | angst, pining, best friends, unrequited love

-after being in love with your best friend for years, one drunken night changes everything.

꒷꒦  as sweet as the sound by @xo-cori ellie williams x fem!reader | smut (MDNI), fingersucking, ellie is a filthy bottom idc, they’re a lil high but who isn’t in this economy

-she’s undeniably talented, but your girlfriend is just a bit too self-critical of her work.

꒷꒦  "what would you do if i went to touch you now?" by @louswrld11 ellie williams x fem!reader | wlw relationship, moderndayau!, whiny ellie (dying), oral, fingering, ellie's a switch?? wow, face sitting (i literally screamed into my pillow), cuddling!!!, ellie begging??omg yes pls, reader being more of a dom, ellie being a bit of a brat. literally just lesbians i mean what more could you want.

-ellie hates it when you're not paying attention to her

꒷꒦  where it all begins by @ijtaimes ellie williams x reader | pinning , jealousy , awkward tension? , ellie being mean to a kid, ellie being awkward, banter (lots of it because i live laugh love banter!), mentions of c*m

-summer is back in full swing, which means you’re back to being a camp counselor for moody, grumpy and hormonal middle schoolers. this summer however, is different! camp harmony hills has been renovated and the group of kids this year seem slightly more pleasant. not to mention, you have not one but two girls crushing on you. whew! but…something still is different about this year…the rumors are back and things seem a little. odd.

꒷꒦  wedding blurb by @spaceshipellie top!ellie x femme!bottom!reader | tlou au, ellie and readers wedding, touching in public, bathroom sex, fingering + eating out (r receiving), MDNI

-“you wanna love me right now, you wanna get alone with me”

꒷꒦  ellie headcanons pt 4 by @inf3ct3dd loser!ellie x reader

-loves matching with you. keychains, shoes, outfits, literally anything. if you have dyed hair, she’d dye a piece of hers to match you.

꒷꒦  hot to go! by ^ ellie williams x reader

-you started prepping the coffee beans, pouring them into a large class container while you moved your head back and forth, music blasting through your headphones.

꒷꒦  ellie fic by @dinasfavslut ellie williams x fem!reader | 18+ mndi!, smoking, sexual thoughts, cussing, pet names, teasing, smut (oral, fingering, slight mention of strap, squirting)

-everyone is aware that ellie smokes; we have all seen it. of course, there are also the dealer ellie fics, picture ellie making the reader squirt for the first time while high!

꒷꒦  brothers bestfriend ellie; by @hhayden222 ellie williams x reader | {sfw}

꒷꒦  ellie drabble/blurb by @amourrs  ellie williams x fem!reader | smut 18+, ai audios

-one where you wear ellie’s flannel and neither of you actually end up leaving the house

꒷꒦  store owner! ellie by @dollyhao ellie williams x reader | smut, doggy, squirting, strap in use (r!recieving)

꒷꒦ sending nudes to a high ellie by ^ ellie williams x reader | high ellie, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

-“baby…” ellie says through the phone sounding desperate as ever. she missed her girl friend so bad. she went on a friends trip with jesse and dina. you couldn’t come because you had to work still.

꒷꒦ nothing's gonna hurt you baby... by @cottontears modern au established gf ellie williams x fem reader | slight angst, hurt reader, ellie comforts her, fluff ensues, shitty friends

-ellie comforts you and saves you from your shitty friends

꒷꒦ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒 + 𝐟𝐞𝐦!reader. by @iactuallykissedsharawheeler ellie williams x reader | weed mention

꒷꒦ gf!ellie headcannons by @phantombriide ellie williams x reader | mdni, loser gf!ellie, annoying gf!ellie, mentions of head/sex, mentions of making out, ellie's a clown and you're sick of it but love it so much, swearing and fluff

-gf!ellie who you've been friends with since junior year of high school.

꒷꒦ sweet blurb by ^ ellie williams x fem!reader

-ellie who loves coming home from patrol to a messy house. usually it's the other way around because no one wants to come home from work to a mess to clean up, but it's not like that at all.

꒷꒦ smut blurb by @wrtinginblood  ellie williams x fem!reader | pregnancy mention, nsfw

-ellie fucking you when you’re, like, newly pregnant and she’s sooo feral and excited for you to get all swollen with her baby

꒷꒦ texts with gf!ellie pt.3!! by @bellaramslover ellie williams x reader | mentions of smoking/drinking, implied sex, a little arguing

-Part 1 here!, Part 2 here!

꒷꒦ ellie fic by @d3arapril ellie williams x reader | 18+ minors dni, smut(obviously), dom!ellie, language, ellie has a dirty mouth, an ass slap.

-“cover her mouth and make her listen to how wet she is” aka jackson!ellie putting in WORK.

꒷꒦ sub service top ellie blurb by @seattlesellie ellie williams x reader | smut

꒷꒦ groupchat with ellie, dina and jesse part 2 by @elsweetheart ellie williams x fem!reader

-trying to organise going out to eat, and jesse can’t seem to catch a break.

꒷꒦ being a menace to dealer!ellie in the night part two by ^ ellie williams x reader

-you tried everything to get to sleep. you’d counted sheep, you had tried counting back from one thousand, you’d sat up and read a book— nothing was working.

꒷꒦ texts with ellie by @ellieslaces ellie williams x reader | fem!reader, suggestive conversations, harsh language, mentions of dark humor, use of pet names (babe, baby, sweet girl, etc), mentions of college!dealer!ellie

-a collection of messages between ellie and the reader! made by me. essentially this is my idea of what some daily conversations would be like with ellie if she were your girlfriend <3

꒷꒦ types of kisses with ellie by @elliesprettygirl ellie williams x reader | pure fluff

-how ellie would kiss you

꒷꒦ ellie playing the sims headcanons by ^ ellie x gf!reader | loser!ellie if you squint

-ellie being adorable

꒷꒦ ellie with a breeding kink by ^ ellie williams x reader

-"slow and steady"

꒷꒦ ellie williams and her clingy-ness by @lillysbigwilly ellie williams x reader

꒷꒦ my sweet girl by @evera-era ellie williams x afab!reader | friends to lovers, virgin reader, ellie has a praise + innocence kink, fingering, oral r!receiving, facesitting, fondling, lots of kissing, you talk her through it, fluff !!!!

꒷꒦ ellie blurb by ^ ellie williams x reader

-reader has a dream where ellie liked someone else or something (you know how a lot of couples go through this😭) and gets mad at her and Ellie is like “it was just a dream babe” and it’s all fluffy and cute

꒷꒦ f**k you by ^ ellie williams x afab!reader | hate sex, ellie’s rude as shit in the first half, alcohol use, some name-calling, aggressive kissing, fingering, scissoring, brat taming, spanking, edging/overstim

-ellie couldn’t stand you. she found you so incredibly annoying, and yet you shared the same friends. which was the biggest problem, ever.

꒷꒦ adventure time blurb by @savannahsdeath ellie williams x reader

-ellie and reader lying down on the bed while they’re watching adventure time, and all the time that princess bubblegum and marceline shows off, ellie is like “omg look at us!!”

꒷꒦ lover girl!ellie headcanons by @itsbecomeblue ellie williams x reader | nsfw with warning near the end, swearing, basically fluff, ellie and reader play soccer, puppy love, slightly loser!ellie, not explicit if reader is fem or masc

-highschool romance with ellie

꒷꒦ there's two ways to squirt by @bambiesfics ellie williams x reader | water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

-reader has a full bladder and is trapped in ellie william’s hatchback.

꒷꒦ once again, for the first time (1/3) 🌱 by @lovelettersfromluna ellie williams x reader | ANGST!!!, ellie is an oblivious idiot, quiet!reader, momentary alternative love interest, jealous!ellie, possessive!ellie

-being in love with your best friend has got to be one of the most emotionally exhausting things someone can experience, so it’s time you put your foot down and moved on….at least, try to move on

꒷꒦ silver springs (2/3) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | SMUT!!! 18+, mdni, alcohol and marijuana usage, jealous!ellie, slight asshole!ellie, cheating, oral r!receiving, edging, fingering r!receiving, pet names, kissing

-a step by step guide on how not to get over ellie fucking williams

꒷꒦ linger (3/3) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | smut!! mdni!! 18+, ellie and reader are both very sad and very stubborn, angst, hurt/comfort, alcohol usage, mention of marijuana, making out, pet names, oral (ellie receiving), tribbing

-back home for the holidays after hooking up with your best friend, who you also happen to be madly in love with...what could possibly go wrong.

꒷꒦ blossom (1/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | 18+!! smut!! angst!! (is it a fic of mine if there isn’t angst at this point), small town!ellie, it’s summer time ofc hehe, fingering (r!receiving), nipple play (r!receiving), petnames, ellie hurt reader in the past but is extremely desperate for her now, lots of kissing

-ellie broke up with you in high school right before she left for college. At the time, it left you devastated….five years later, she’s back. And she’s back for you.

꒷꒦ 20 something (2/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | angst!! ellie is an idiot in this one, joel being a dad figure to reader, alcohol usage, reader gets a lil drunk, jealous!reader

-how you ain’t say you was movin’ forward? Honesty hurts when you’re gettin’ older, I gotta say I’ll miss the way you need me.

꒷꒦ the perfect girl (1/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | 18+!!, ANGST, eventual smut just not in this chapter, mentions of sex, mutual pining, ellie is sort of a dick but she isn’t necessarily mean (don’t worry you’ll see), lead singer!reader, use of alcohol and marijuana, rock star life style so lots of partying, reader is a badass

-the amount of tension between you and your guitarist is fucking ridiculous.

꒷꒦ sweet little lies (2/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | 18+!!! Eventual smut, ellie is selfish point blank period, reader is extremely sad, some making out but doesn't lead to much, ANGST!!!!

-being on tour with someone you’ve been ignoring for two months is hard…but doable

[lanabuckybarnes]

Brain rot, Brain rot.

18+ Minors DNI

(I do not own any photos used, credits go to the original owners)

A little piece I’ve created about my favourite roles that Seb has played (the ones I’ve watched so far) because Mr Lee Bodecker and Nick have got me in a literal chokehold.

( I know about their red flags but girlies im colourblind).

Just wanted to try something a little different, Warnings are under the cut.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader, Nick Fowler x reader, Steve Kemp x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: Spoilers for the movies, mention of Cheating (It’s Lee being unfaithful per usual), Dark Lee, Manipulation, Throat fucking, Size kink, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Pregnancy, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Teasing, Cock Warming, Pussy Eating, Mentions of Cannibalism, Biting, Dry Humping, Dark Steve I suppose (Steve being Steve), Voyeurism. DO NOT READ IF THESE TRIGGER YOU, if I’ve missed any warnings please let me know.

Whew Lordy.

Lee bodecker is a filthy man, with 100+ glaring red flags and you still peruse him?! It’s a wonder the townsfolk don’t have you sent to the looney bin. He absolutely loves it when his little mistress (you) wraps herself in his leather coat, just the thought of you wearing it gets him all possessive.

He loves a lady he can manipulate— bend and train to his will. A girl that when he comes stomping into her little cottage she’s there with a steak on the table and her mouth open for him. Not only does a sweet little lady appeal to him because of their naivety but because of just how shy and innocent they really are.

If you in a pretty white frock while he fucks your face is the last thing he sees as he closes his eyes on this world, he’ll die a happy man.

Also size kink demon, loves when his thick hand engulfs your thigh or when you have to go onto your toes to kiss him, loves it when one of his big ole palms can hold your wrists above your head while he pounds away at you. It’s like a ritual now for him to sit his fat length over your pussy just before he plunges in, he loves imagining just how deep he’ll be hitting you when he fucks you.

Talks about getting you pregnant A LOT. You never knew it was a kink till you were talking with some of the older ladies about your ‘mystery man’. When you brought up the fact that he’s constantly moaning about swelling that little belly up, giving you his son, they all confirmed what he was experiencing was a thing most ‘manly men’ felt. They assured you it would be a great honour to have a man’s son but you played with the hem of your dress in guilt and shame, he wasn’t your husband and he thought of you as nothing more than his little side piece to make up for his boring wife.

Please ride this man while wearing his hat, he will not survive.

Nick Fowler, I don’t really know much about him— I mostly watched clips of him on YouTube but I just imagine him with a phat daddy kink. When you whimper daddy for the first time he just about spurts right then and there.

Loves teasing the shit outta you, how many times have you came on his fingers and tongue? You don’t know but you feel fucked out— you don’t think you could handle another, Nick just scoffs.

“Come on baby another for me” he encourages, his sopping fingers circling your sensitive bud and all you can do is lie back and take it.

When he’s had a real bad day all he wants is for you to get those fucking clothes off and sit on his cock, you don’t have to move he just wants to feel your warmth and how you squeeze against him.

Now if you think you were insane to go after someone like Lee you must actually be crazy to let Steve near you, even after finding out his little ploy, how you were nothing more than meat to him— you still let him fuck you. This man knows how to eat, he’s down there for every course, slowly spreading your folds with his fingers and liking a strip up from your hole to your clit before diving straight in. He’ll have you loosing your voice over the way you scream when he drags orgasm after orgasm out of your pretty body

Constantly talks about eating your flesh while he kisses you, occasionally biting down nice and hard leaving teeth marks all over the meaty parts of your body. Even before you found out he was a cannibal he’d be biting and licking on you, he called it sampling the meat before he bought in.

Dress up nice and pretty for him, he loves it. He loves nice light colours and lacy material, the way it makes your skin look all flawless and doesn’t clash with the dark marks he’s given you has him hard in his pants quicker than you could imagine. Another man who loves being fully clothed while you’re practically naked. Has cum in his pants an embarrassing amount of times when you’ve straddled him, grinding your lace covered kitty against his bulge.

Although I write about him all the time I can never fully flesh out one of the fantasy’s I think of him in. This man, although awfully shy about his sex life with others, will and has absolutely ruined you in public places. A restaurant, he’s played with your little clit under the table and fucked you in one of the bathroom stalls, in a car while you, Sam and Steve were going on a road trip. Even once in Tony’s house during a party— Tony had almost caught you two bumping and grinding in his laundry room, the thought of how close you two were to being caught had Bucky biting on your shoulder and coming all up your back quicker than he’d ever done before.

—

I have no idea where all these come from but I’m loving it.

[rachelsfav-queer]

How would mommy Enid and daddy Yoko handle Wednesday getting overstimulated and having a complete meltdown? Poor thing is totally inconsolable :'(

Whew. Okay, this one is obviously very important to me, as I’ve said in a previous post. But, I didn’t really explain why so, let me do that now. Btw, this whole thing is gonna be a long one, so either strap in or hop out.

So, first off, I’m reading this ask as if Wednesday is autistic, along with the typical headcanon of her being a little that’s been present lately for VampRavenWolf. So, I’ll be basing it on my experience with autistic meltdowns, which for the most part has been extremely traumatic. I won’t get into any specific details about my experience for privacy reasons and I also don’t want to trigger myself by forcing myself to remember it all.

As for my story, there was a point in my life where I was in an extremely toxic environment that almost constantly produced meltdowns for me. Now, meltdowns are already a very traumatic experience for autistic people, but it was made 10x worse for me by the fact that I was surrounded by people who were only aiming to make it worse for me, hoping that I would eventually self-destruct, in whatever way that meant. They genuinely didn’t care how it happened, just as long as they could get rid of me. That is my story, it’s a very shortened and simplified version of it, with a whole lot of missing context, but it’s my story nonetheless.

I want to say that I still appreciate this ask. Because it gives me an opportunity to share my experience in hopes that by doing so, I can help at least someone. Let them know that they’re not alone like I thought I was for most of my life. That is how I heal the trauma that was dealt to me.

So, with that out of the way, let’s get to the actual ask!

TRIGGER WARNING: Descriptions of sensory overload and meltdown as experienced by an autistic character, light descriptions of self-harm in the form of harmful stimming, and descriptions of panic attacks. All below the cut.

So, for this scenario, I’m gonna set it in VampRavenWolf’s home. It’s already gonna be hard for our poor little raven, I don’t want to subject her to dealing with it in public. Secondly, we’re gonna say that something happens with one of the smoke detectors, some sort of malfunction that causes it to go off for no reason. This will be what causes everything to go down. Alright, this is everyone’s last chance, if anything in the warning above is triggering to you, PLEASE leave now and do not read. Remember, you are not forced to read this if any of the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable. Please, take care of yourselves.

Alright, we all good? Great.

The day already wasn’t going great. Wednesday had just gotten home from school half an hour ago, and her classmates all day had apparently made it their mission to annoy her. Not even Bianca was able to ward off everyone all day, considering she only shared half of her classes with the raven. And of course, both her girlfriends were either out dealing with work or handling family issues, of which they’d only gotten home from a few minutes before Wednesday did, only to have to retreat to their respective offices to finish even more work.

Spending so much time away from her Mommy and Daddy was always the most exhausting thing in the world for Wednesday and although she understood that they couldn’t just spend every second of every day right by her side, the fact still upset her greatly.

At the moment, Wednesday is sitting in the living room, watching TV with Raven on her lap, though she’s not paying very close attention (Raven isn’t either). The absence of her Mommy and Daddy weighs heavy on her mind, only made worse by the day she’s had. Wednesday’s just about to get up to find her Mommy in hopes that she’ll give her the attention that she so desperately needs when suddenly, the smoke alarm in the kitchen goes off. The loud, piercing noise sends Wednesday falling off the couch as her hands fly up to cover her ears. It takes a few seconds for her mind to catch up with her body, but when it does, Wednesday begins crying violently, coughing wildly and her breathing quickly becomes unsteady, short and with no rhythm.

Meanwhile, Enid and Yoko are alerted immediately by the noise and rush out to check everything out. Seeing no signs of a fire, they determine the alarm is just malfunctioning and pull it off the wall, taking out the batteries and silencing the screaming noise. Once the alarm is off, though, the quiet exposes the sound of their baby sobbing in the living room and once again the women are rushing to the sound. Their hearts break at the sight of Wednesday curled up on the floor with her hands clutching her head tightly. Enid walks forward first, lowering herself as slowly as possible, and speaks gently, “Hey, little raven. It’s Mommy. Can I come closer?”

The muffled sound of her Mommy’s voice catches the raven’s attention and she gravitates towards it, opening her eyes slightly and choking out, “L- loud, Mommy! Too loud!” Still overwhelmed by the stimulation, Wednesday’s brain is in desperate need of regulation and so instinctually her fists begin slamming into the sides of her head over and over and over and over and-

Thinking quickly, Enid gently pulls the seer's arms by her wrists and wraps them around her torso, allowing the girl to pound her fists into the wolf’s back, “Okay, okay baby. That’s it, let it out on Mommy. She can take it, you’re okay.” Enid continues to mutter reassurances over and over again while Yoko leaves for a moment to grab Wednesday’s noise-canceling headphones, returning the moment she finds them and carefully sets them on the raven’s ears.

Meanwhile, Wednesday’s sobbing only gets worse, her breathing getting shallower and her body getting weaker. Yoko and Enid are starting to get seriously worried, they look at each other with fear in their eyes and Yoko asks weakly, “What do we do?”

Enid looks back down at the girl in her arms, desperately trying to think of anything to bring their girlfriend out of this meltdown safely. Suddenly, she gets an idea. “We need to help her regulate herself. Here,” Enid breathes, offering the girl to Yoko, “Hold her, she prefers cold. I’ll go turn down the A/C and grab her weighted blanket. I’ll be right back.” While Enid does that, Yoko gets an idea of her own. She first shuffles back to lean against the couch, then, staying careful not to jostle the raven, Yoko does her best to unbutton as much of her shirt as she can and lays Wednesday’s head onto her exposed chest. Almost immediately, Wednesday’s breathing begins to slow, as do her tears. Yoko continues to whisper gentle words of praise and reassurance until Enid gets back. The werewolf covers the two with the black blanket and gets yet another idea. Stepping away from her girlfriends, Enid transforms into her wolf form and then lays her head gently against the seer’s back.

And with the combined weight of the blanket and the werewolf plus the chill of the vampire and the A/C blowing down on them all, Wednesday slowly starts coming back to herself. Eventually, her breathing is even again, and a few sniffles here and there are the only signs that she’d been crying. Petting her hair, Yoko speaks, “Hey there, baby bird. You back with us?”

Wednesday nods slowly, “Yes Daddy. Feel better.”

At the sound of her baby’s voice, Enid lifts her head and gently nudges Wednesday’s cheek with her snout, chuffing softly which makes the goth smile tiredly. Which in turn pleases her Mommy and Daddy, knowing their girl really was back with them.

“Get some sleep, baby bird. We’ll be right here for you. We have you always.”

End <3

[antitheticaldreamgirl-13]

tw: I’m horrible at trigger warnings and am not good at wording them, but just know that I discuss a lot of really frustrating and harmful points made by Hetlors and horrible insults directed at Gaylors. Take care of yourselves.

Alright folks the time has arrived to cry and sob and scream about Hetlors, specifically the Swiftologist. His reaction video to the NYT article: https://youtu.be/9Pd9KWKKxfE?si=ByMrJSbyNJOD1T3t

I’m going to go through each of his points and point out the flaws of such points.

*gets out notes*

Okay, so. The first thing he does is call Gaylors conspiracy theorists. Anything Gaylor-related is a conspiracy theory, in his view. Not only that, it’s a conspiracy theory comparable to QAnon and other far-right conspiracy theories, a conspiracy theory with “no merit or factual basis,” a conspiracy theory that is “delusional” and “meth math.” Gaylor theories are “based on misinformation and false beliefs,” according to him.

Whew. This is a very strong reaction. First of all, comparing Gaylor to QAnon is so ridiculous. I mean. Come on. Really? Second, we know that Gaylor theories do have evidence. There is so much, even just within that article. I reblogged just before this a list of all the evidence made in the article. Also, what is the “misinformation” that he mentions? Gaylors just point out the evidence that we have and let people draw their own conclusions. We aren’t misrepresenting anything (most of us, anyway).

Alright let’s continue. Swiftologist then argues that Gaylors have a distrust of the narrative Taylor has created and the “many times she has stated she is not part of the community.” Gaylors apparently do not respect Taylor or her songs and aren’t really Swifties at all—just people who are trying to prove that she is gay.

Okay I really want to know this….WHAT ARE THE MANY TIMES SHE HAS SAID THAT SHE IS NOT PART OF COMMUNITY?! SHOW THEM TO ME! She said that once. *Once*. And that still doesn’t mean she is saying that she is straight. Furthermore, we do trust Taylor. If she says she’s straight, we’ll believe it. I mean we’re the ones looking at all the tiny details of her songs. We’re the ones drawing the connections. Hetlors doesn’t do that, and yet Gaylors are the ones who don’t trust Taylor’s narrative? Like??? What kind of argument is that?

Then he says that Gaylors are trying to out Taylor.

But we aren’t. We really aren’t. We’re just looking at what TAYLOR HERSELF has said and done and connecting the dots. We’re not trying to spy on her personal life or anything like that…we’re literally just looking at her OWN lyrics that SHE put created, knowing what the reaction would be. It’s just. This argument from Hetlors makes me laugh every time.

Okay so THEN he lists a bunch of crazy stuff Gaylors have done. I don’t want to get into them because I agree with the Swiftologist that they were crazy. But, at the same time, it’s not like you can blame the entire Gaylor community for a few Gaylors’ actions and use that to debunk Gaylor theories. That’s just not how it works.

He continues by listing different…logical fallacies you might call them? Different things that are common with conspiracy theories: false pattern recognition, confirmation bias, etc. I won’t get into that right now, but this is a large part of his argument later, so keep that in mind.

He makes a critique of the way the article compares Taylor to Chely Wright. He says it’s a “false equivalency.”

I would say that the author, Anna Marks, was simply pointing out an example of closeting and the effects of staying in the closet on one’s mental and emotional health and an example of coming out and the effects of coming out. I personally don’t think she was saying that Taylor is very similar to Wright…

Then Swiftologist talks about some Gaylor evidence presented in the article. He doesn’t actually give a reason for why they are unconvinced but simply states that it is “so delusional to me that people think this is true.”

He mentions the YNTCD music video and claims that only a straight person could have made it and that it was cringey and even that it portrayed LGBTQ+ in such a stereotypical way that it was “deeply offensive.” I mean. It was definitely cringey. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that only a straight person could have made it. It’s honestly just so odd that he attacks Gaylor theories for their lack of “merit or factual basis,” and yet he literally uses the cringy-ness of a music video to say that Taylor must be straight? I know it was largely a joke, but he was also serious, and for some reason it just bugged me.

Marks talks about how the YNTCD song and music video were mostly perceived as performative allyship but she raises the question of whatever they were genuinely expressing herself. Swiftologist responds to this by saying that this is a false binary (performative allyship vs. Taylor is gay) , but I don’t really think so. If Taylor is straight and she wrote that song and made that video, she probably came at it from a decent place, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t performative. (Honestly if Taylor is straight, a lot of the stuff that she’s done I would consider to be very iffy, so I think Marks raises a good point here.)

Swiftologist then goes on another rant about Gaylors, asking why they don’t just believe Taylor and literally calling them “delusional 9/1 truthers.” Look, I get that he’s upset, but he doesn’t have to insult and name-call and be generally immature. As Taylor would say, why you gotta be so mean?

He continues to simply state that all the evidence provided is not proof and that Gaylor theories are delusional, but he does also say that the Cruel Summer lyrics—“I don’t wanna keep secret just to keep you”—could easily be explained by the fact that Taylor CHEATED ON JOE and/or was desperately avoiding the paparazzi.

Like. Lemme get this straight. He would rather that Taylor be a *cheater* than be gay? He thinks that saying she is a cheater is perfectly fine but saying that she might be gay isn’t. I have no words.

*manages to regain my bearings*

Alright, so then Swiftologist (oh my god I just realized that I could simply call him by his real name, Zach, instead of typing out that long name, but now I’m committed) says that he has an OPEN MIND and is open to different interpretations versus the author of the article, who is a “crazy person,” who is completely close minded, apparently. He says, “point me to one piece of solid evidence in this article.” He then continues with his point about open-mindedness, saying that he agrees that Taylor songs COULD be about women (they probably aren’t, but there is a potential there) and because he believes that it means he is a generous and intellectual and open-minded human being, according to him. But Anna Marks, on the other hand, like all other Gaylors, is *completely* close-minded and has not even THOUGHT of the possibility that Taylor could be straight.

Like jeez. Does Swiftologist not see the hilarity of this argument? I”m seriously starting to lose it.

In fact, I’m going to take a break and continue where I left off in the morning. I don’t even have the energy to revise this so hopefully there are no glaring mistakes.

Thanks so much for anybody who read this! Have a great morning/afternoon/night!

[snapdragonsimming]

Author's Note and Transcript Under the Cut

(AN: Hello! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my fledgling fundie simblr. I’m by no means new to simblr, but because this blog and story is new, I figure an introduction is due.

So: hey, I’m Talia! I had another fundie simblr a few years back (it’s now inactive for a multitude of reasons), but like a certain someone, I have risen again! My fundie sims obsession was reignited over the summer after I joined a wonderful fundie sims-themed Discord server. Somehow they convinced me to make a new blog, and a few months later, here we are! In the intervening years I continued to lurk, so if you’re an active fundie simblr, I’m probably a fan of your story.

I’ve been playing the de la Cruz family for a while now and they have a special place in my heart- I can’t wait to share them with everyone else! Get ready for lots of God-honoring drama, mildly dubious baby names, and leopard-print modesty undershirts. Note that as the de la Cruzes are fundamentalists and this story is satire-heavy, there will be some viewpoints expressed that I very much disagree with. I’ll trigger tag certain sensitive subjects (e.g. physical violence, miscarriages) as ‘tw [thing]’ but fundie-typical bullshit will go untagged for the sake of my sanity.

Some basic housekeeping stuff to wrap up this far-too-long intro note: I have a queue full of posts ready to go, but I’m a busy student with unpleasant things like homework and AP classes, so I’m still not sure how frequently I’ll post. I’ll do my best to ensure that stays consistent, though, and if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out via my askbox or DMs!)

-

PRAISING HIM!

Every Sunday, Praising Him! features a family dedicated to spreading the Word. Today we meet the de la Cruzes, a San Sequoian family of 16.

When Alejandro and Alina (née Fletcher) de la Cruz married at nineteen, they could not have imagined what would come next! Over the past twenty-six years, the couple has made faith the centerpiece of their lives, and has continued to “Praise Him!” through the ups and downs of busy family life.

Read more about their family below!

-

Alejandro, 45, works as a programmer at United Christian Publishers, and holds a Distinguished Degree in Computer Science from Foxbury Christian University. He began his journey into higher education not at 18, like many students, but at 26, shortly after the birth of his seventhborn, Cecilia! Owing to his unique circumstances, he chose to enroll in a six-year program that enabled him to work full-time as a freelance programmer in addition to his courseload. Though money was tight at times, the Lord provided, and Alejandro welcomed five bundles of joy (including a darling set of twins!) with wife Alina while enrolled at Foxbury. Whew!

Alina, 45, has chosen to fulfill God’s design for women by staying at home with her family. Raised in a devout household, she always knew He was calling her toward marriage and motherhood, and she says the “greatest blessing” in her life was the day she gave birth to her eldest son Gabriel, ten months after her wedding day and just shy of her twentieth birthday. In addition to raising and homeschooling the seven de la Cruz children who have yet to graduate, Alina is active in her church and in Institute for Strong Christian Standards (ISCS) circles, and enjoys spending time with her four (soon to be five!) beautiful grandbabies. A true Proverbs 31 woman if we’ve ever seen one!

You may recognize Gabriel de la Cruz and his lovely wife Esther, 23, from last summer’s print edition of Praising Him! At just 25, Gabriel is a rising star in the Christian legal world, coming to the aid of innocent Simericans simply trying to practice their faith. Ten months ago, they welcomed their first little girl, Abigail, and just last week they announced the upcoming arrival of their second child! Congratulations to them.

-

Althea Brown (née de la Cruz), 24, is following in her mother’s footsteps and proud of it! The young woman, who wed husband John-David, 28, three years ago, resides in Newcrest and is a content stay-at-home-mother of two.

Jasmine Booth (née de la Cruz), 23, known to friends and family as “Jazzy,” is enjoying the bliss of new parenthood alongside her husband of two years, Jason!

The first set of de la Cruz twins, Joshua and Sofia, 21, are both unattached and living at home. Sofia is pursuing a calling in missionary work, and Joshua is hard at work saving money and praying for his future family. “If you’re reading this as a young Christian woman,” Sofia jests, “have your father write into Praising Him! and I’ll set up a date with Josh!”

Caterina de la Cruz, 20, is diligently knitting, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, and cross-stitching her way through her season of singleness! Though she prays every day for her Prince Charming (nonbelievers need not apply!), she assures Praising Him! that she’s quite content to assist her mother in running the busy de la Cruz household in the interim.

Cecilia de la Cruz, 18, the only unmarried de la Cruz not living at home, declined to comment.

The rest of the de la Cruz children, who range in age from 8 to 17, are kept busy with homeschooling, ISCS conferences, music practice, and Bible study.

If you would like to get in touch with the de la Cruz family, click here to send a message!

[twistmusings]

hello!! if your requests are still open, i have to pick your brain on the debate of the century- which characters do you think are ass men and which are tits guys? 👁 (or maybe a secret sinister 3rd thing) (thighs)

Which characters prefer tits, ass, or mayhaps thighs?

CW: Use of the word "titty" but not intended to describe the gender of their partner. Still, in case the word may be triggering I just wanted to give a heads up.

Note: All characters are portrayed as being in their mid to late twenties!

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

I feel like Riddle will never ever admit to it, but probably thighs.

He would love to lay his head on someone's thighs.

Stockings turn him on more than he would like to admit. If someone has on stockings with something that is cut high enough that he can see the gap of skin between their clothes and their stockings he's going to be in a lot of inner turmoil about it. He honestly might tell them to change their outfit because he's trying very hard not to look like a fucking pervert because he keeps glancing at them.

Ace Trappola

Ace is an ass man. He would like a lil something to put his hand on if he gives someone a hug.

And if they sit on his lap? Whew. 👌

Deuce Spade

Ass as well. They're just cute and round and fun to touch if he's allowed.

He's very subtle about it, so it's not something he seeks unless he's in private. If he's snuggling, though, he's probably either going to be the big spoon so he can pull them against him. Or if they're snuggling face to face or side to side he's probably going to rest a hand on a partner's buttcheek.

Trey Clover

Tits, though only by a little. He's good about not checking people out, but if you catch him staring at someone, you're probably going to catch him checking out their chest.

Cater Diamond

Please, god, a titty in his hand, PLEASE.

He also likes ass and legs but tits just hit different. They're so cute.

He absolutely is a menace about wanting them in his mouth if he's in bed with someone. He's got a tiny bit of an oral fixation and really likes the feeling of a nipple getting hard in his mouth.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

Tits but less because of attraction reasons and more because they're comfy and warm and he wants to lay his head against them. He will adore using them as a napping spot, if someone lets him.

But if he can see a nipple through the fabric of their shirt it gets him a little riled up. If they're okay with it, he'll get a little handsy with them when he does notice it.

Ruggie Bucchi

Thighs 100%. He likes to go down on his partners and there's nothing quite so satisfying as feeling their thighs squeeze around his head when they're about to come.

He likes to leave marks on them too. Bites, hickeys, you name it. He likes seeing evidence that he's been there on his partners.

Jack Howl

Jack is a good boy and would never stoop to the level of objectifying someone by their body parts.

For real, he doesn't really have a preference, he likes them all. A titty in his hand, an ass on his lap, or an outfit that shows off their thighs, it's all just great. He's a little too moral bound to ever admit to checking them out.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

He's not as subtle about it as he thinks he is, but it's ass. He has gotten called out by Jade and Floyd both when they catch him checking out someone's ass.

What can he say? It's something unique to coming on land since human anatomy is so different from merfolk anatomy in so many ways. He just likes to look a little...

Jade Leech

Tummies. I realize this isn't an option. Jade does not care. He just thinks it's cute.

Also humans have belly buttons which is not something they have under the sea. It's cute! And they come in different shapes. It gives everyone character to their tummies.

I have said it and I will say it again, he is a big fan of plus sized tummies. He just thinks. They're cute and soft and he wants to lay his head on them. And maybe bite a little bit. (He is an eel, after all.)

Floyd Leech

He doesn't have a strong preference, really. Maybe thighs? But really he just kind of is into who he's into and he doesn't know exactly why he finds certain things attractive.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim doesn't have a strong preference either. People are just hot, so he likes it all.

He's easily flustered by showing his desire, though, so having someone encourage him to touch their butt, tits, thighs, anything will make him a lil shy.

Jamil Viper

Titties but closely followed by thighs.

His favorite is to hug his partner from behind and sneaking a hand up the front of their shirt to just hold a titty in his hand. If he's being a shithead, he also likes teasing just enough that one of their nipples is hard and ignore the other entirely so he can tease them about being able to see it through their shirt.

Pomfiore

Vil Schoenheit

Thighs. (Or really, legs in general.) He thinks having shapely legs is one of the most attractive features on anyone, and he really likes the way that heels make legs look.

He loves to style looks for his partners if he will let them and you can best bet he's going to pick something to accentuate their legs.

Rook Hunt

I have said before that Rook is really into pretty much anything and that still stands here. He like them all, and his favorite is probably whatever his partner thinks is their best asset. He absolutely will hype them up and make them feel like a bad bitch regardless.

Epel Felmier

... Tits? Moreso he likes pectoral muscles since he's attracted to strength, so truthfully if he's checking someone out it's going to look like he's staring at their tits regardless.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Thighs. Of course butts and boobs are great too, but he's more likely to check out someones thighs than anything else.

If someone is wearing something to accentuate their thighs or there's a little dip where their stocking sits on their legs he's going to be sweaty as fuck.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

He's demi so he doesn't actively check people out most of the time. What he notices first is eyes, if that counts. He will complement people on their eyes pretty often.

Silver

He doesn't think about it actively, but tits for sure. It probably doesn't hit him unless they actually are pressed against him though.

For example, if he falls asleep against someone and they adjust so he's laying with his head against their shoulder with their chest pressed against his side he's gonna get a little flustered once he wakes up.

Sebek Zigvolt

Ass. Sebek is an absolute menace about checking out people's asses and, like with everything he does, he's really not subtle about it.

He honestly loves a nice firm muscle butt. He just thinks it's attractive how much work it must have taken to build that muscle.

Lilia Vanrouge

A little tiny slight preference for tits but it's because he's pretty much always eye level to them. It's nice to just put his face on them because they're soft. Plus, depending on how he lays, he can hear their heartbeat and that's a super soothing sound to him.

He's a little shameless about it, so his partner might have to deal with him just nuzzling right up to their bosom in front of god and everybody. Not even in a sexual way, he just wants to snuggle.

[midwestmade29]

It's a Wonderful Life 💙

To Anonymous: Whew, this one's a doozy, but worth the read! Thank you again for your request. I hope you enjoy what I came up with 🥰

Word count: 2,174 Divider by: Me 🙂 Original Anonymous Request: Can I possibly send a Christian x Female!Reader request? Maybe the Reader and Christian end up pregnant and she has to relinquish her title and the request is basically following them through their pregnancy and the after math of a complicated pregnancy and their lives as Parents (as well as juggling parenting Isla as well)

Due to the topics covered in this story, minors do not interact. If you're not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING.

Some topics and scenarios mentioned in the story may be upsetting/and or triggering for some readers. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimers: (Complicated) Pregnancy, mention of sex, hospital stays, illness (flu), mention of gestational diabetes, medical testing, (medical) shots, preterm labor, labor pains, bedrest, cesarean section (surgery), postpartum recovery, caring for a newborn.

An OB (obstetrician) is a doctor who cares for the mother and baby throughout pregnancy. They also deliver the baby.

A baby in a breech position means they are upside down. (Feet first instead of head first)

C-section (cesarean section) is a surgical way to deliver a baby.

“Well, what’s it say?” Christian asked nervously. Your eyebrows knit together the longer you stared at the pregnancy test in your hand. “I’m not sure. Do you think we waited the full 10 minutes? There’s not really anything showing right now.” The two of you walked away after you sat the test back down on the bathroom counter, deciding to wait a few more agonizing minutes. Christian sat on the bed while you absentmindedly tossed things in your suitcase for your flight that was leaving early in the morning. You and your shiny AEW Women’s World Championship were set to appear on Dynamite tomorrow, which was something you had been looking forward to, but your headspace was somewhere else now. “What’s going through your mind baby? Talk to me,” Christian asked softly, motioning for you to come and join him on the bed. He wrapped you in his arms, embracing you tightly as your head rested against his chest. “Just worried, I guess. We have a lot on our plates right now with everything. We’re traveling every week, sometimes multiple times a week all while juggling our home and family life. I’ve only been the Women’s World Champion for a couple months. My championship reign will be cut short if I am pregnant,” you sighed as Christian tightened his embrace. “If the test is positive, will you not be happy about it? Concern laced Christian’s every word. “I’m conflicted! Torn between the happiness of expanding our family and sadness for my career. I feel like I was just getting started showing everyone what I’m made of you know?” Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, but Christian did his best to calm them. “I know baby. It’s a lot to take on right now, but we’ll make it work. We’re in this together, every step of the way! As far as your career goes, your fans will miss you, but they will understand if you’re absent for a while. Just think of the epic comeback you’d make. It would be the biggest and most anticipated in company history!”

It was hard to miss the two pink lines that were now visible on the white plastic stick sitting on the counter. Christian’s blue eyes were focused on you while you were processing everything. “Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded your head yes, joy replacing all your previous concerns and doubt. Seeing the positive pregnancy test changed everything in an instant! A switch had been flipped as the reality of the situation set in, easing the sting you felt about your career. This baby was so much more important than anything else! You threw your arms around Christian’s neck, and he held you tightly as he spun you around. Images of a little blue-eyed baby danced in your mind and the thought made your heart swell! When Christian sat you on your feet, a certain little girl crossed your mind, prompting you to ask Christian a serious question, “How do you think Isla will take the news? She’s been an only child for almost 10 years now. Do you think she’ll be upset?” “I’m sure she will have her own sentiments about it, but overall, I think she’ll be excited! There’s only one way to find out…”

Telling Isla she was going to be a big sister went extremely well! You had come up with the idea to order a custom puzzle for the 3 of you to put together to tell her the big news. You had taken a picture of a heart she had drawn for you some time ago and uploaded it on the puzzle website, editing her design slightly by putting the words “You’re going to be a big sister!” in the middle of it. Within a few days, the puzzle was delivered and the 3 of you put it together after Isla got home from school. When the last piece of the puzzle was set in place, she let out a loud shriek! She wrapped her arms around your neck squeezing tightly before running over to Christian and jumping in his arms. She started rapid firing questions at each of you, making you and Christian laugh at her excitement. “Is it a boy or a girl? When will its birthday be? Can the baby sleep in my room?” she rambled on. Could she be any cuter?! Telling her was the easy part. Breaking the news to your fans live on Dynamite was a different story.

Standing in front of a live camera and telling the world you had to relinquish your Women’s World Championship was incredibly hard for you. You choked up placing it in Tony Schiavone’s hands as it seemed to mock you with its shimmer and shine when you did. Dynamite cut to a commercial break, relief washing over you now that your announcement was over and done with. You let out a rush of air once Christian closed the door to your dressing room and you walked over to him needing to feel his strong arms wrapped around you. “I think that went well; all things considered. You’re amazing Y/N. You know that, right?” he spoke gently. “Thanks for supporting me, Christian. It means the world to me! Now, our next adventure begins. Baby Cage will be here before we know it!”

Days turned into months in the blink of an eye! Your baby bump was very prominent now, and Christian loved it. He always had his hands on your belly! Whenever he had the chance, he would lay his head on your lap and talk to the baby while planting soft kisses against your skin. Late one night while you and Christian were tucked in bed, he fell asleep with his head next to your stomach. You ran your fingers through his hair while you reminisced about your pregnancy up to this point. You remember how his eyes lit up when the monitor showed the baby at your first ultrasound appointment when you were 20 weeks pregnant. Both of you were mesmerized as you watched the little baby you created together wiggling around on the screen, and how you both got teary eyed when the ultrasound technician told you “It’s a boy!” You’ll never forget how nervous Christian was the first time you met with your OB doctor. He wanted to ask her if the two of you could still have sex despite you being pregnant. You could instantly see the relief he felt when she told him yes! A chill ran through you when your mind wandered back to the time you were admitted into the hospital because you were extremely dehydrated and sick with the flu. It was the longest 3 days of your life! You recalled the next hurdle that came when you failed your gestational diabetes screening at 24 weeks into your pregnancy. The test came back as positive which meant a second more invasive test had to be done. Thankfully your results from the second test showed that you didn’t have it!

The scariest moment of all came late one night when you started having intense pain in your lower half. Christian rushed you to the hospital after you called your doctor, and she told you to come in to be monitored. “You’re in preterm labor,” your doctor explained. She went over the details of everything that was going on calmly, “It’s too early in your pregnancy to deliver now. You’re 33 weeks along and the goal is to be at least 39-40 weeks for a safe and healthy baby. I’m going to administer medicine that will reduce your contractions, ultimately delaying your labor. I would also like to administer 2 steroid shots that will help the baby’s lungs mature faster in case we have to deliver early. I’m very confident that we will be able to halt your labor and keep that little guy safe and sound inside until we’re ready to meet him!” The air in the room didn’t feel quite as heavy after the doctor explained her plan. When she gave you and Christian time alone, it was obvious that he was shaken up. “I’m in good hands baby. I fully trust the doctor and her plan. We’ll get through this together and our baby boy will be okay!” you reassured him while giving his hand a light squeeze. The discomfort you felt from the shots the doctor gave you was ultimately worth it when your labor had successfully been stopped. You were eventually discharged from the hospital with strict orders from your doctor. You were placed on bedrest and could no longer travel with Christian unless it was to a place that was pre-approved by the doctor. No exercising or heavy lifting either. The couch and your bed were your new best friends! Whatever you needed to do to keep the baby secure, you were going to do it.

Ready or not, here he comes! At 38 weeks pregnant, it was time to finally meet your baby boy. You had met the goal your doctor set for you after your preterm labor scare! Your last ultrasound showed a healthy baby, and he was measuring right where he should be. Everything was going well until another curveball was thrown your way. Your doctor had come to check on you when she noticed something was off. “Was the baby breech at her last appointment?” the doctor quietly asked the nurse. They conversed for a few minutes more before the doctor directed her attention back to you. “Okay Y/N, the baby is in the breech position. To safely deliver him, I must do an emergency c-section…” her words started fading away as you got lost in your own thoughts. Emergency? Surgery? Must move as quickly as possible? Christian could tell your thoughts were in a downward spiral the longer you blankly stared past the doctor. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, speaking calmly when your eyes locked onto his. “Y/N, I promise I won’t leave your side! I know this isn’t what we planned on, but you got this! You’re incredible baby. I’m in awe of your strength and courage!”

Never did you think that the sound of crying would be music to your ears, but hearing your son wail after he was born was the best thing ever! You had successfully delivered a healthy 6lb, 4oz precious baby boy! Christian was over the moon holding his son in his arms for the first time. It was a moment that you’ll never forget! As soon as you were taken care of and wheeled into your recovery room, Christian brought Isla in to meet her baby brother. “He’s soooo cute!” she exclaimed. She was smitten with him right from the start! If she could’ve held him all night, she most certainly would’ve. You and the baby were able to go home just 2 days after delivery. Recovering from your surgery was rough on all of you since you were healing, and you still had restrictions and things you just couldn’t do. It frustrated you not being able to do simple tasks and having to rely on everyone else to do things for you! Christian encouraged you to give yourself some grace, especially after everything you went through your entire pregnancy. Deep down you knew you would bounce back; it would just take time. 6 weeks into parenthood you were starting to feel a little better. Your body was healing, and your son was growing and changing by the minute. Just yesterday you and Christian took Isla and the baby to the zoo, it being one of your first outings as a family of 4. Isla had settled in to being a big sister well, but that’s not to say there weren’t pangs of jealousy and rough patches. This was a major adjustment period for all 3 of you, but the love and adoration each of you had for one another remained strong and continued to grow as each day passed!

You quickly learned that parenting was a juggling act! You and Christian dividing your time and attention between two kids, each other, and AEW was extremely difficult. Splitting yourself between 3 people that rely on you was hard. Having to put your career goals on the self (for now) was hard. Making sure Isla was getting the love and attention she needed and deserved was hard. Taking care of a fussy baby in the early hours of the morning with little to no sleep was hard. Finding alone time with Christian was hard. But, at the end of the day when you tuck Isla in bed and she tells you she loves you, and when you watch Christian rocking your baby boy to sleep in his strong arms from the doorway of the nursery, it eases the stress the difficult days bring and makes everything you went through to get to this point worth it. How did you get so lucky? It definitely is a wonderful life 💙

[divine-mystic-princess]

Hey, hope you're doing fine!

I wanna ask you about your thoughts on aries lilith conjunct sun and MC.

Thanks in advance! Kisses xx

🐦‍🔥 Peace Beloved ✌🏾

Aries ♈️ Lilith ~ conjuncting the sun & MC

wow, first thing is definitely a fire starter, rule breaker, born to resist the norm and change a lot in whatever career field you’re in. You definitely trigger a lot of people because of your innate sense of confidence. I mean c’mon— the SUN conjunct MC alone screams radiant energy and ultimate willpower. In Aries.?! Omg, super powerful but to have Lilith there… the unseen dark magnetism behind it all is an unmatched kind of power. People don’t even know how to perceive you as hard as they may try. You have an underlying sense of divinity 👑 with everything you do and everything you touch seems to transform, not just “change”. You’re the type of a person to leave a mark… physically and spiritually. Fire here is smoldering, like 🐲 dragon fire I’m feeling. Too hot to handle (even for yourself sometimes) and will even melt through tough metal. Whew!! Am I gassing you up or what LOL! Seriously though, be careful not to play with too many others. You do best independently 100% especially if others can’t keep up or handle your flame here🔥 Don’t be sad, try to find more people that will resonate with your energy and passion.!

hope that helped 🥰

if you love my astrology observations feel free to ask more 💌 + any tips are appreciated for the energy exchange ✨💚🪐✨

[blackjackkent]

OK, trying to make a beeline for the Counting House to do that quest first although the urge to wander around and trigger every other quest in the area is very strong.

Due southwest. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200 gold.

A lot of interesting stuff spotted along the way; I'm going to have to come back and walk through this area more systematically soon:

An execution notice for Florrick, who has been deemed "guilty of treacherous and seditious activity against the people of Baldur's Gate" and is to be executed in five days. I'm assuming that, like all the other quests in this game, there isn't ACTUALLY a timer on this until we actively pursue it, so hopefully she'll still be rescuable by the time we get back to Wyrm's Rock.

There's apparently a Hag Victims Support Group at someplace called "Barren's Coop".

A LOT of Steel Watch and Flaming Fist, all of them actively engaged in making the locals miserable on Gortash's behalf; definitely some local trouble we're going to want to follow up on once we've got Minsc.

Cute banter between Shadowheart and Karlach. Karlach: "I wouldn't mind doing a little shopping in the city." Shadowheart: "Same. I think I may have overdone it with the black and purple for, oh, my entire life? Your look serves you well, though." Karlach: "I'm ten years behind; don't want the youths to think I'm not, you know, up with the times." LOL. We'll def do some more clothes/equipment shopping once we're done with our current High Priority Missions.

Shadowheart's wound also went off again for no immediately obvious reason.

More brainquakes.

A very upset vegetable merchant whose stall had been overturned, who had monk-specific dialogue when Hector spoke to him (because I thought he might be a trader). "Do you know how hard it was to get those cabbages into-- wait. The stoic stance, calming presence... You're one of those monastic types! Stay clear of my cabbages! Your sort have done enough damage as it is!" Hector was thoroughly baffled by this.

Quite a number of beggars and dead bodies; the Batman vigilante instinct that Hector was starting to pick up seeing all the suffering out in Rivington is starting to rear its head again.

Made it!

Whew. That was emotionally draining. XD Ignoring sidequests, even temporarily, is a CHALLENGE.

[kangamommynow]

Whew

We finished a 4 day week of testing with more testing and evening conferences. Now the kids are gone for a couple of days for conferences and professional development.

Made it.

My dear M had a good morning and then descended into a darkness. He was playing on his computer during art. No, he's not supposed to. Of course I encouraged him to make a different choice. Not just because he should have been creating (he has been given a special art project that fits his interests) but also because he was playing a typing game that frustrates him. Repeatedly punching his computer. Slamming it shut. Me trying to stay calm and reminding him that he has the power to make a different choice that will not frustrate him. Also knowing that physically taking the computer is the worst option.

I spent the next hour gently talking to him as he continued. He couldn't talk. He goes so deep in himself that he can't find words. It's a trauma reaction. I did eventually call for support to see if someone else would have more luck, but by the time they came he managed to claw his way back to the light. This poor kid.

I discovered that his old CC teacher has been talking to other people about various options for M . Not me. I'm holding on to the idea that it's because she cares for him, she knows him and wants best for him. I'm trying not to feel disrespected by the fact that she's not coming to me. For one thing, I'm now his teacher and his advocate at school. For another, she didn't give him a behavior plan or a safety plan, which he really needs. I'm working on writing it now, as his IEP is coming up. They require a lot of soul-searching and objective observation. Why does he do X? When? What triggers it? What aggravates it? What defuses it? What skill does he need to learn so he can more effectively function? What function does the behavior serve? All behavior is communication. What is he communicating?

[starofhisheart]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR OFMD S2 EP6-7 under the cut

Ok, that was A LOT. I have so many feelings but no coherence so i'm gonna do this bullet point form but def not in order, just in order of me remembering wtf happened lol

-IZZY AND WEE JOHN IN DRAG!!!!! Wee John looked STUNNING with that Divine-esque appearance and Izzy had that transmasc drag king kind of thing going on (iykyk) that made me love him even more

-Izzy singing LA VI EN ROSE took me tf out!!! i'm glad he got to finish it after the *ahem* distractions bc Con's voice is so beautiful I could listen to it forever. We better get it in the album!!! Also someone posted the lyrics translated and i cannot get over the lyrics:

"It's him for me,/And me for him, for life/He told me, he swore to me, for life"

-But not only was he singing the second half had fucking gentlebeard doing the dirty in the next room asdfghjkl which.....was hot, ngl. The passion was electrifying. I'm sorta glad we didnt rlly see it with everything that happened after bc it all kinda left a bad taste in my mouth.

Also Stede Bonnet canonically gets turned on by violence confirmed

Or trauma. Whatever.

-What else happened in ep 6 cause all i can think of is drag and singing and sex-

-oh yeah there was that shortlived sexually-charged torturer who i distinctly recall him being in another scene in the promo so unless that got the cut perhaps he's not dead...?

-Lupete missing all the action cause they were doing the nasty all night lmao so real

-Jim best wingman (gender neutral)

-Stede...Stedey boy, can I call u that? Now i'm gonna say this nicely, but WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? Stede in his white guy w undue confidence era fr. Zheng Yi Sao was so right for what she did truly

-But in all seriousness i feel like this whole thing in ep 7 was such a parallel to s1 but also a very necessary bit of conflict in their journey together that was bound to happen. THey want different things and neither is wrong or right for that. Stede did react poorly tho but like he just had sex w the love of his life, his first man, and Ed the very next day is like "aight i'm out". I'd be pissed too. After killing someone which we know is a big trigger for him historically.

But Ed also had a valid reaction. He's wanted to retire for a while and stede knows this but it hasn't seemed to have sunk in quite yet. He fears that Stede only sees Blackbeard and...its fair of him to have that impression tbh. These are two messy, traumatized dudes who have never had a real relationship and there's gonna be bumps. I hope we get s3 so we can better explore that like Djenks wants.

-Ok back to the fun stuff:

-Izzy barging in on GB and the docking joke. love his cringefail ass.

-IZZY IS HAPPY FOR ED EVEN IF ITS NOT WITH HIM

#growth

-the edizzy apology which was so typical of them. i expected it but bc i'd been building it up in my head all week w twitter pals it felt a bit anticlimactic but thats not the shows fault. it was very much in character and if they're satisfied so am i. i always have fic for more

-stizzy commiserating over losing ed pls thats all i've ever wanted!!!!!

izzy: "when i told him i loved him he-"

stede, like he's heard this story before: "shot u yes"

and the look they gave each other after!!!!! stizzy nation how we feelin?!

-izzy being like "stede no" when he was on his macho bullshit w zheng yi sao (also motivated by trauma bc he just lost ed, he cant lose MORE family!!!). i just like how protective iz seems of stede now.

-izzy''s "you're good for him" CRYING THROWING UP ETCETERA

-ed catching 1 fish and deciding thats his life now. adhd realness fr

-the swede whew is it hot in here or is that just jackie's effect on her husbands?

-jackie and ed actin like old friends. swede highkey shading ed adfghjkl

-anyway im sure there's more but i need to rewatch. there r things i wont go into bc its possible spoilers for the finale (tho its mostly just speculation some is based on bts not everyone may have seen). i am looking forward to and terrified for the show to end next week thats all i'll say

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The boys in their cycle/partners cycle and their happy trail is just matted down with ✨fluids✨😋. Nail scratches all over their body from their partner trying to hold on

-🥝

goddamn it, kiwi. i'm DIZZY

i've added similar things to some of my wips and whew.... it's a NEED..... like....

i feel like wereroomies!chris would keep himself neatly trimmed... maybe so trimmed you can barely notice the mess pretty has left.... however, he'd certainly be c o v e r e d in her scratches... nail dents on his back, shoulders, thighs... red marks down his back... she'd probably be bruised all over, but only because it all feels so good ))): and chris just can't contain his strength too well )):, but even when he apologises profusely after pretty reassures him that she likes it <3

wereroomies!minho would certainly keep himself trimmed but not as much as chris. there's certainly a decent amount of hair down there for kitten's mess to be very noticeable. i'm sure they both love the sight. minho would probably tease her a lot, calling her his bitch (or queen) in heat while she sinks her nails on his arms and stomach if she's on top.... he's got a good grasp of his strength when he goes into rut, but that doesn't mean there won't perfect marks of his hands on her bum by the end of it

wereroomies!changbin, on the other hand... would probably be the hairiest of the alphas. there's a m e s s on his crotch, all over his body, honestly... red marks on his chest from autumn obsessively touching those perfect pecs of his... she'd probably stimulate his nipples until they're all puffy and sore... he'd leave scratch marks on her back and waist... ooof.......

wereroomies!hyunlix keep themselves well groomed, but there's enough for them to see combined fluids from either of them + their dear moss. WAIT.... MOSS IN HER RUT????? if both felix and hyunjin are spending it with her.... she's gonna have them shooting blanks, i just know.... it'd be so hard to know whose limb is whose with how intertwined they are. if triggered, hyunjin's heat probably wouldn't make it any better... i feel like the three of them would have to take a whole week off after.