#your friendly neighborhood queue

[psychedelic-ink]

hornee joel request: soft to feral!joel. he's is an acts of service man who sometimes tries to start with softer touches in the dark, but as he gets more worked up those touches become rougher, more desperate. to the point he's got you bent in half, hands on the back of your knees, not even bothering to get fully undressed. gruff, whiskey-scented praise in your ear ("you like that, girlie? that feel good?"). also I heartily agree with pussydrunk!joel anon lol

alright, so when I first read this when you said "to the point he's got you bent in half" my brain immediately jumped to him bending reader over a surface of some kind and only understood what you meant after reading it again but I've already started writing it, sorry for misunderstanding your request! my bad but I hope you enjoy it still <333

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.2k

summary: It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

warnings: rough sex, piv, joel being joel, angry sex, you-almost-died sex, feral!joel

It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. 

In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

Then it starts. His large hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, his confined cock hot and aching under his jeans. It’s only that at first. Grinding, accompanied by heavy breathing. His scarred hands sneak under your shirt, he grips your breasts, flicking your pebbled nipples with the tips of his fingers. When Joel comes he makes a choked-out sound, swallowing his groans either by biting into your shoulder or breathing heavily through his nose. 

It’s just that. 

Until it’s not. 

You expect to die when a clicker tackles you to the hard ground. It makes a jarring move to bite you and you manage to swerve away from it. But you know you can’t hold on for long. This is it. The end. 

A gunshot echoes, then another one, and then another, until the clicker’s lifeless body falls limp on top of you. Joel shoves it away with a kick, lifts—no—he yanks you up from the ground. So hard that your shoulder ached from the sheer force of it. He’s angry, livid even. 

He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the evening. Barely glances at you when you give him his portion of expired Chef Bouyardee. He just scowls, the crease between his brows deep. 

Frustrated, you drop your plate and head further inside the deserted house. Heading into the first room, you notice it probably used to be a study room. Dust covers every surface and you step forward, touching the wooden table. It must’ve looked beautiful before the outbreak. Your fingers leave a trail of shiny wood in its wake. 

You pull away and shake your head, frustrated. 

Joel finds you. Crossing the room with large steps, he grips your waist. He pulls you flush against him, lips finding the skin between your shoulders and neck. You let out a sigh. 

“You’re not mad anymore?” 

“I told you to fuckin’ stay put,” he grunts, pushing you towards the table. “I’m fuckin’ furious.” 

You smell alcohol on his breath. He must’ve taken a couple of swigs before he came to find you, instead of eating. 

You can feel the dust from the table on your skin as he bends you over it. His large hands grip your hips, pushing you down further against the wood. Joel tugs down your pants until the pair hangs loosely over your knees. Kicking your legs further apart, he slides your underwear to the side and enters you in one swift thrust. You gasp, arching your back in response. Pain blossoms between your legs and your head spins. Hints of pleasure prickle at your skin, forcing a choked-out moan from your lips. He moves with an intensity that makes your body quiver, pushing you further and further against the table. 

"You like that, girlie?" he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Does that feel good?"

You shudder at how deep his voice had gone. You nod frantically, moans ripping from your throat. He pulls out enough so it’s only the head of his cock stretching you, and with one sharp thrust, he sinks into your heat. You jerk forward, nails clawing at the table. 

“That’s it, take all of it,” he grinds into you, cock dragging against the soft spot that makes you see stars. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For me to fuck you hard that you forget how shit the world is.” Joel makes a point of emphasizing every word with the slam of his hips. “Sweet thing, you are. Sweet, but fuckin’ reckless.” 

You can feel the splinters of the wood against your skin, but you don't care. Your nerves are on fire —you only feel him and nothing else. The sound of smacking flesh fills the room, his teeth deep in your shoulder as he wraps a hand around your throat. Joel pulls you until your back is flush against him, you hear his belt scraping against the floor with every hard thrust. Your lips part with a gasp. Your lungs expanding with the feel of his hand under your shirt. 

Suddenly his hips still. You’re surprised at how fast tears flood your eyes, blurring your already hazy vision. You whimper, and his cock twitches at the sound. 

“You gonna listen to me from now on?” he asks. “Are you gonna behave?” 

“Yes,” you whimper, sniffling. “I will just…move, please.” 

You lose your grounding, the room around you turning upside down. You find yourself sitting on the desk, your knees being pushed up until they touch your head. Your spine aches, however, the feeling is quickly forgotten when he pushes himself back inside. He feels bigger somehow, thicker.

Joel doesn’t say another word after that. He jackhammers his hips into yours like you’re a toy for him to use. Your breathing grows heavier, every nerve in your body coming alive. Between half-lidded eyes, you notice him looking down, watching his cock disappearing into your dripping cunt.

You’re shaking when his thumb starts circling your clit, heat swirls in your stomach, your muscles tense. Your body tingles with your nearing orgasm. It’s a steady push until Joel decides to part your folds as he fucks himself impossibly deeper. 

Tiny black dots dance across your vision and you cry out. Suddenly everything feels a hundred times more intense, your aching sex a ball of flame. Your fingers seek him out, a need to touch, to feel his heat against your skin. But you can barely reach his thighs with the way the two of you are positioned, the tips of your fingers desperately trying to take a hold of the tense muscle. 

You let out a shaking breath as your orgasm hits you like a truck. It doesn’t come in small, building waves. It’s violent and vivid, the pleasure needling into your skin. Joel finally grants you your wish and releases your legs, as they fall and frame his broad waist, you weakly wrap your arms around him. Only after the fact do you realize he leaned in for your embrace. Craving it as much as you do. 

He keeps still until your tremors have subsided, his lips etched into your neck, kissing and nipping the soft flesh. He’s still hard, cock throbbing deep inside of you. 

“You good?” he breathes out. 

“Yeah.” 

“A’right.” 

You don’t expect him to pull out, hence you’re not ready to be left empty. But the sight he provides you is worth it, he grips his cock, his fist moving in solid, fast, strokes over your stomach. 

He grunts as he comes, spurting his hot cum over your stomach in thick, white streams. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of him. His body shudders, his grip on his cock tight as he continues to stroke himself. His eyes are closed with the intention to hide his bliss, his lips parted. You hear the groans he tries to bite back, and arousal sets your body aflame once more. 

He finally finishes, and his hand falls to his side, his breathing heavy and deep. Both of you too frightened to say a word. 

[myhiraeth]

oh no i think I'm considering changing my relationship tag since tumblr refuses to save my tags anymore and I'm getting tired of c/p all my relationship tags bc I can't keep the one-liners straight haha

[gwenwives]

on a scale from 1-10 how serious is this and how does one get involved

100, this is the most serious thing we've ever done. To join us, you simply have to promise to pledge your life to our queen, our beloved, our wife: Gwen Cooper.

[ignitionxbomb]

@friendly--neighborhood​ followed -- (starter from canon // post-war arc! Katsuki)

“Oi, Web Head!” Katsuki stated, walking over to the other. “I would’ve thought you’d have left to go back to America already?!” The blond rose an eyebrow as he questioned. “I assume there’s an uproar of fuckin’ shit happening over there -- given what happened to Japan’s hero commission, and what the villains caused over here.”

[greatresponsibility]

tag drop !

[sensesdialed-aa]

@illuderelict​ asked: “wanna tell me what’s going on with your grades?” also from Cam, get dad friended– // more random dialogue prompts

   PETER RAISES AN EYEBROW, giving Cam a look filled to the brim with confusion about why he’s asking him that— that’s the sort of question that May should be asking him, maybe even Happy or Mr. Stark if they ended up noticing an unusual slip amidst all the crimes he’s been updating them on. “Wh- I don’t know what you— what? My grades are fine!” Sure, they’ve gone down from PERFECT since he started skipping more classes and pushing his homework aside in favor of patrol, but it’s not like he’s struggling with finding that balance as much as he used to. He’s been keeping them up again for awhile now! “Did one of my teachers ask you to talk to me about it or something?— or, wait, is this about that one grade in gym? ‘Cause I have no idea how that happened!” Maybe something to do with ditching that class the most, or pretending he isn’t as capable as he is, OR any lingering injuries from nastier fights, or- 

         “They’re fine, though— they’re good! Nothing’s going on... with my grades, and everything, but especially those.” 

[parkerlucked]

tag drop !

[octuscle]

Dear Chronivac Support

Is chronivac active or shut down? I'm a wealthy guy looking for some fun and adventure. There is a hot Latin poolboy in our neighborhood inspiring me to enjoy holidays as a latino. I searched the internet and found eric gustavo Oliveira as hot guy. A spring break as a latino like him would be great. I hope I can swap back later?

I recommend Chronivac Travel for this. I have a very cool offer for Cartagena. If you allow, I will put everything together for you. You don't even have to pack. You get your luggage with your boarding pass at the American counter in JFK.

The flight departs at 06:50. So, according to your habit, you will be at the airport at 05:50. But sorry, you fly low cost in economy. Fortunately for you, we have already checked you in and checked your luggage. Here are your boarding pass and your backpack. You can give me your Louis Vuitton laptop bag, you won't need it for the next two weeks.

The queue at the security check is annoying. You are used to the fast lane. But I want you to have the ultimate Latino experience. Of course, your backpack will be patted down. Grinning, the officer flips through the Spanish gay magazines. He asks you something in Spanish. You begin to regret the whole action.

Before boarding, you have just enough time to get a beer and a sandwich for the first leg to Miami. You look for your wallet. Actually, it should be in the inside pocket of your jacket. But you realize you're not wearing a jacket anymore. Shit, did you forget it at the security checkpoint? But why do you have the hip bag hanging in front of your chest? You look, there is a cheap nylon purse. With a cannabis leaf in front of the Colombian flag on it. And inside, next to your Colombian ID and driver's license, a few old dollar bills. And a credit card. Apparently your name is now Diego Gonzales. When you ask the flight attendant at boarding if you could get an upgrade, you can hardly remember the English words. The flight attendant does not understand your request, but smiles friendly and tells you in broken Spanish your row and your seat.

Fuck, the lad next to you is a real beauty. You find it hard not to look at him all the time. At some point he asks you in English, smiling, when you are already on approach, if Miami is your destination. You shake your head, show your chest and answer "I Cartagena home". He answers you "You follow me". You understood that. And you do that in Miami in the airport. With a little distance. But the splendid ass always in view. The man disappears in a toilet. You follow. The door to a stall is a little bit open. You open the door and behind it the stallion is already waiting with his pants down. You understand the command. You kneel on the dirty floor and blow the fellow. He moans a little too loud for this place. Someone rants something about gay perverts. Your seat neighbor blows his load in your face. But even that is not new for you. You lick the hard-on skillfully clean, suck off the last drop and stow the cock in his pants. Without giving you a glance, the fellow throws you a few dollar bills. And quickly leaves the toilet. Almost 50 dollars. Not bad. You would have done the blow job for free. But now you should hurry to get to your connecting flight.

On the flight to Cartagena, you'll finally get your upgrade. Crossing business class on the way to your seat, you make eye contact with a gentleman in row 2 for a little too long. And no sooner have you stowed your carry-on luggage than a flight attendant stands next to you and tells you with a wink that your uncle in row 2 invites you to spend the flight next to him. As soon as you reach cruising altitude, your newfound uncle invites you to become a member of the Mile High Club. He raises the privacy screen, activates the "do not disturb" sign. And unbuttons his pants. An upgrade to business class. And $600 in freshly printed bills. Your stock is soaring.

Home at last! Three weeks of vacation in your homeland, until you have to go back to the gringos. Where vacation means you'll be working at the Bomba Beach Club. In the service. And maybe there will be some extra income. Usually the three weeks are enough to pay your rent for half a year in New Jersey. Whereby it certainly won't be long before your mother will ask again if you wouldn't like to find yourself a nice young Colombian and be happy here.

You are already smiling at the thought. Your parents have picked you up from the airport, you have freshened up and are already wearing your work clothes. Your vacation begins with the evening shift. That is good. Then the tips are more generous. It's going to be a great three weeks! Thank you for traveling with Chronivac.

[bandersnch]

This is your friendly neighborhood STARTER CALL. Please tap the ♡ if you'd like a starter of varying lengths and/or verses. These likely will go in the queue to be set free at random times ( unless I'm feeling ambitious ).

[heartstringsduet]

Split

@chaotictarlos requested "tarlos+ meet cute + ice cream"

Finally, the queue moves on, the next group walking away with the thing Carlos has been craving for over a week now. An eternal hell ride with the subway and nearly half an hour waiting, and he’s finally so close he can taste it. 

Carlos steps forward and orders, “One Banana Split Deluxe, please.”

The smile of the shopkeeper dims just a little. “The Banana Split is in-house only.”

“Oh. Then I’ll sit.”

“Are you waiting for someone to join?”

Carlos is puzzled but keeps his friendly, confident tone, trying to be as cool as the New York locals. “No just me.”

Now, she looks at him with pity shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but it’s shop policy that the Banana Split is…well, split.”

“Yeah, but the name is just from the banana being split in the middle?” 

“At Cheeks, we do a new interpretation of it. And that can only be eaten by a minimum of two people. A split Banana Split,” she says like it’s a reasonable policy to have about dessert but also like she is genuinely sorry.

Carlos hears the group of teenagers behind him mumble, “Ugh, everyone knows that.” He feels his cheeks grow warm.

He’s been seeing this dish on Instagram for weeks now. It’s been his one saving grace in a week of grueling work in a new city he constantly feels rushed and overwhelmed in and that makes him feel lonelier than he ever had.

It’s a bit ridiculous but he felt on edge before and now it's like he couldn’t eat if he wanted to. But he’s in line, the teenagers behind him cluck and sigh and the shopkeeper looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Then I’ll just take-”

“Hey, sorry, uhm, I overheard and I don’t want this to be weird or anything but we could share the Banana Split? I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to of course, it’s just, I’ve been meaning to try it for so long and I came all the way for it.”

Carlos stares at the stranger who stepped up next to him. Green eyes, soft brown hair and a very tight button down print shirt on a guy that could have walked out of his dreams. Carlos feels like there’s sugar coasting through his system already, speeding his heart up, coating his tongue, making him want to do crazy things.

Crazy things like saying, “Sure.”

Suddenly, the lady beams at them and says, “Our waiter will show you to your table in a sec.” Carlos thinks he sees her wink at them from the corner of his eyes but dismisses it. He’s too caught up in the sudden nerves and doubt setting in. What has he just said yes to? What hot guy would just randomly walk up and offer to share ice cream? What weirdo would say yes to it? 

When they slide into the white booth with colorful sprinkles, the hot guy says, “Sorry again. Really, don’t feel like you actually have to talk to me or anything or even stay if this is too weird.”

“It’s fine,” Carlos says. “You saved me from having wasted my time, honestly.” He holds his hand out. “I’m Carlos.” 

The guy smiles; another sugar rush pumping through Carlos’ veines for it. “TK. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“Have you ever been here?”

“First time.” Carlos admits. “First time to New York actually.”

TK’s smile falters. “Oh, you’re just here on a visit?”

“No, I just moved here. Last week.”

It seems to have been the right answer because TK grins again and starts asking him about how he likes the city, tells him about what to expect from living in that neighborhood, what places to check out, which to avoid. He keeps on asking Carlos, too though. He's the friendliest and most open person he’s met in this city. And it might not be a coincidence that TK slips in a “my ex-boyfriend and I” in one of the recommendations with a weight to the “ex”.

Carlos has never been flirted with this openly, not by men, so at first he thinks that maybe it’s all in his head. But TK’s eyes keep on flickering down to Carlos’ mouth, and he laughs a bit too much at a lame pun Carlos makes and he makes a display of licking his spoon after each bite that drives Carlos crazy. He barely tastes the deconstructed (split) Banana Split. Suddenly, that seems very insignificant compared to the man whose face looks sinfully delighted at each bite.

As the check comes, Carlos feels like he’s only gotten a taste of something that has only made him hungry for more. He takes a calming breath then decides that he won't risk a final goodbye. “Would you want to split something savory next? Like…now?”

TK beams. “I know just the place.”

Carlos feels another sugar rush, making his heart jump and making him do crazy things for the rest of the night.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.8k

chapter summary: Due to a power outage in your home, you have to stay with Joel and Sarah for a couple days until it gets fixed.

warnings: female masturbation, accidental eavesdropping, pillow humping/fucking (joel)

Chapter Five || Chapter Seven

You only see butterflies. 

You see them fluttering at the window, in your kitchen, in your bedroom. You see them sitting on top the mirror in the bathroom, you see them in the cupboards. They’re everywhere. They consume you. In every shape and color, you see them. You see stars on top of their wings, circles, hearts. Some are white, some are pink. But most of them are blue. 

They remind you of him. Of Joel. And you draw—you paint. 

You sketch wings on paper. Paint colors that become them. It’s him. It’s Sarah. It’s Tommy. It’s Olivia. Your brother. Your grandfather. It’s everyone that lingers in your heart, in your mind. You see them in the shapes that you draw. All of them distinctly different. 

Joel is a dark red, a dark purple with splattered white. The wings are sharper, longer, the largest butterflies. The ends of his wings have long extensions like antennas. It is beautiful, ethereal, strong. 

Tommy’s butterflies are similar to Joel’s, only softer around the ages and smaller. Blue, golden, a light shade of red. His wings glimmer under both sunlight and moonlight. Sarah’s are the smallest, pink and blue with a lighter shade of purple. Her design is the most elegant, her wings curl at the end, more fairy-like. 

Olivia’s are green, her wings long and slender. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t drawn inspiration from Tinker Bell—green, yellow with light blue specs. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, soft sunlight only just starting to spill from the windows. Despite your sweatshirt and the blanket you had haphazardly thrown over your shoulders, the early chill settles in your bones. You narrow your eyes, tilting the sketchbook, you hold it towards the overhead light. It’s hard to see and your eyes sting when you blink. But you don’t stop, you can’t stop. They’re everywhere and you need to draw them, you need to put them on paper before they disappear. It’s been months since you’ve painted anything. Now that the colors were splashing over white you don’t want to stop. It’s a breath of fresh air. 

Finally, you’re breathing again after being submerged for so long. 

The realization that you had feelings for Joel, and Tommy for you, make this unrestrained desire to create even stronger. You’re breathing because of Joel—because he had told you to draw butterflies. You want to show him what you’ve made, you want to show Tommy as well. It should make you afraid. The things that you feel. He has someone after all, no matter how serious their relationship might or might not be, however, isn’t this the perfect motivator for any kind of artist? You feel pain. A different kind of pain that you can actually use instead of the grief that aches in your bones. 

Pain is one of the fundamentals of art. The beauty of art comes from within, and so does pain,  it’s the process of creating it not the end product. It’s the journey. Some of your favorite artworks are derived from pain; Dorotea Tanning’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Dali’s Elephants, and The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo. 

Despite being transfixed by Dali’s work (his work with butterflies has been a strong inspiration in what you make), you feel most drawn to Tanning’s style of showcasing pain. You always saw yourself as the girl within the Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, walking down the blood-colored carpet, a giant sunflower in front of her, tattered and ruined. You were always curious about the cracked open door ahead, wondered what might be laying within the only room with an open door.

Your thoughts seep through the pencil, become shapes and lines on paper. You admire the texture of the clean sheets, the lead against it music to your ears. You draw and draw, some making less sense than others. Page after page your butterflies become something else, they become more gruesome with split heads and sharp, glass-like wings. You swallow. The sweat clinging to your skin is cold, your fingers numb. 

And just like that you’re buried in muted darkness. 

“Shit.” you hiss, looking up accusingly to the light. “What the fuck?” 

You get up and head to the window, your fingers curling around the edge of the curtains. It’s early but it seems like some of your neighbors are already awake—and has light. 

“Fuck,” you say again. 

The sun warms your back. You’re staring at the blank screen of the TV. You hear the faint murmurs coming from the Miller’s kitchen, Joel paces back and forth, his socked feet silent. Anxiety clawing at your chest, you shove your hands between your thighs and keep them there. Joel appears. You look up at him as he leans down, placing the phone on the coffee table. 

“So it looks like the power outage is gonna take them a couple of days to fix, maybe even a week,” your heart sinks at his words. He notices and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “Don’t look so worried. You can stay here, we have a spare room. I’ll check on them to see they're doing everythin’ right.” 

“Oh,” you say, a hint of worry etched into your voice. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you with all that. I was just thinking of just calling up my brother, or I can stay at Olivia’s.” 

He waves you off in dismissal. “You ain’t troubling anyone. Besides, it’ll be easier to just bring what you need here. Or if you forget somethin’ you can just go and get it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure, darlin’,” he answers, voice dropping a beat. “Stay.” 

A shudder settles at the base of your spine. You nod. You feel a thick knock in your throat as you swallow. You can still see the lines of sleep mapping across his cheeks, his bed hair a sight to behold. Looking down at the coffee table, you try not to think about how good he looks with his gray sweatpants hugging his thighs—you especially try not to think about the night you drew shapes across his hand and forearm with nothing but your fingers. 

You dream of painting him. Putting him on a blank canvas and hanging it on your wall. He’s a beautiful man. Strong body, a pronounced nose, warm eyes. 

Sarah's sudden jump off the last step startles you and interrupts your thoughts. When she sees your expression, she looks puzzled herself.

“Mornin’,” she greets you, ready for school. “Did something happen?” 

“Power outage,” Joel answers on your behalf, Sarah turns to him. “She’s goin’ to be stayin’ with us for a while.” 

Your heart melts at how wide Sarah smiles, you can see the glimmer in her eyes. “That’s great!” she sits next to you. “Well, not great great, but we can have a sleepover! It’ll be fun, you can teach me how to draw.” 

“Sarah…” Joel warns. 

You cut him off before he can say anything else. 

“That sounds great,” you smile. “I actually have a couple of drawings I’ve been meaning to show you guys.” 

“Really?” Joel asks. 

“Yeah, really.” you answer, grinning at his surprise. You pull out the sketchbook from your bag and place it on your lap. Heat grows between your legs as Joel sits next to you, the meat of his thigh pressed snug against your own. 

Both Miller’s lean in closer, staring at your drawings—themselves, in a way. You don’t think they’ll notice, especially not Joel, but you realize that maybe Sarah does. Her fingers delicately move over the drawing that you did thinking of her.

Sarah grabs your arm and diverts your attention back to her, “Butterflies.”  she murmurs.

“How do you like your coffee?” 

“With milk,” you answer. “A lot of it, preferably.” 

“So milk with a dash of coffee,” he grins, amused. “Got it.” 

It’s been a couple of days since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. It was much easier to live with the father-daughter due than you initially had thought. Tommy came over in the mornings, dropping you off to work and Sarah to school, and the brothers went to do their own thing after that. 

With Joel’s back turned to you, you look down at your sketchbook and add another line to what is supposed to be his unruly hair. He really needs a haircut. 

Surprisingly living with him isn’t weird at all. He made you feel welcome. No awkward glances, no awkward touching. Just neighbors helping each other out. He places the steaming mug next to you and leans on his elbows. He looks at what you’re drawing and raises an eyebrow. 

Joel brings the mug to his lips. 

“You’re paintin’ me?” 

“I’m sketching you,” you answer. “You’re a lovely specimen.” 

“Is that so.” 

The scent of coffee fills your lungs. Lifting your gaze, you observe his facial structures. You see the imperfections, take in the sight of his eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and the bald patches in his beard. You want to touch the small beauty park right in the corner of his eye that’s impossible to see unless you’re an inch further away. 

 If he knew how you saw him—if he knew how big he was in your mind— Joel would be terrified. 

“Do you like art?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee and your gaze drops back to your sketch.  

He hums, fingers thrumming the kitchen counter. “I like your art.” 

“I should take you guys to an art gallery or something,” you say, smiling. “If you like mine, you’re going to go nuts over the things that are out there.” 

Joel pouts and you roll your eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?” you ask.

“I like your drawings. They’re—They feel close. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

It’s because it’s you who I think of when I create them. 

“Do you know Salvador Dali?” you ask, then quickly add. “Or Dorothea Tanning?” 

“Sweetheart, the only artist I know is Da Vinci and I’m not even a hundred percent sure he is one.” 

“He is,” you affirm him excitedly, looking back up. “I love surrealism. It’s when everything gets really weird basically. So—wait let me show you. I think I have a couple of pictures between the pages.” 

You miss the way Joel’s lips slowly curl up, adoration and fondness adorning his face, softening the edges. He comes closer. Your pulse quickens as your fingers rush to find the images, and when they do you basically rip them out from between the pages 

“Look.” 

All of them are images from Dali’s artwork. Mainly butterflies. Joel observes them carefully, touching them as if fearing he might stain them. You urge him to take a closer look by placing one between his thick fingers. It’s The Butterfly Rose. 

“Never thought you would do homework for a hobby.” 

“It’s not—” You let out an exasperated sigh, cutting yourself off mid-sentence. “Do you think I want to work at the coffee house forever? It’s not just a hobby. And of course, as an artist, I look at other art to be inspired. They make me feel things.” Seeing the startled expression on his face, you add, “Don’t you get like…shivers or something when you see a very nice wooden table?”

Oh, you made him uncomfortable. You sense that in an instant. His fingers trace the image of the painting, looking down, you notice the crease between his brows deepening with concentration. Was he concentrating on the image? In your words? You have no idea—the only thing you know is that this man concentrating on art is making your insides clench with a need. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that. I do think you’re a serious artist. It’s just…fuck that came out wrong. I just didn’t think you would put in this much effort to somethin’ I said,” he shakes his head. “Shit, I’m bad at this.” 

That undeniable need to touch him comes rushing back. You bite the inside of your bottom lip instead. “ I think I might’ve overreacted after hearing the same thing from my brother all the time. It’s all good. You might be the only one that takes me seriously so it was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like that.” 

“He don’t support you?” 

“He does…” you trail off. “In his own way, I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound like support,” he answers, clicking his tongue. “And just FYI I like your butterflies better, sweet tea.” 

“Sweet tea?” you ask, lips curling with amusement and eyes widening with shock. 

He shrugs. “You said you liked Dorothea…somethin’---” 

“Tanning.” you quickly say. “So Sweet Tea as in…the last syllable of her name?” 

“Would you rather I call you Tea?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nope!” you grin, your heart elevated. “Sweet Tea is perfect.” 

With a soft smile, Joel places the picture in front of you and gently taps on it. 

“Well then, Sweet Tea,” he says. “Tell me more about this surrealism thing.” 

You and Tommy are waiting by the truck for Joel and Sarah to buy snacks from 7-Eleven. You remember the funny looks the Millers gave you when you suggested buying snacks at the cinema instead. Joel had just shaken his head and steered you towards the truck, his hand on your waist. The touch burned you. 

Then he proceeded to explain the thrill of sneaking something through the cinema doors, and how they deserved it due to their overpriced snacks. The latter you couldn’t really object against. However, you had no idea that the Millers were such kleptomaniacs. 

Tommy had a cigarette between his lips, he pulls it out and exhales a puff of smoke. You watch it mixing into the dark blue night. 

“How’s it like staying with my brother and niece?” he asks. “Hopefully Joel ain’t given’ you too much trouble.” 

“Oh. Not at all,” you smile, waving your hand. “He’s been nothing but kind. You have nothing to worry about.” 

Tommy nods, and he flicks the cigarette to the pavement, stepping on it, he comes closer. “Good good.” you feel his heat, his breath. You shudder. “I miss spendin’ time with you…I mean without anyone else.” 

His voice is a low hum in your ear. You had missed hanging out with him too, but now it's clear that your feelings don't quite match his. Your gaze drifts to the windows of the 7-Eleven, where Joel and Sarah are at the register, scanning the items and chatting. A burst of laughter from Joel warms your heart.

Tommy touches your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. Your pulse quickens under his touch. You swallow. 

“You’ve been distant lately,” he states. “Did I do somethin’?” 

“What?” you gasp, then furiously shake your head. “No. No, of course, you didn’t. I’m…It’s just been hectic with trying to get the power back and the drawings—It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.” 

“If you say so, sweetheart.” he smiles and you fight the urge to let out a breath of relief. “Don’t think about it so much. Joel said the electricity will be back in no time, he might’ve…” he clears his throat. “He might’ve threatened them a bit but it was all light-hearted.” 

You snort. “How can a threat be light-hearted?” 

“You know,” he grins. “When you place a hand on a guy’s shoulder and just squeeze it a bit while smilin’. It’s unnervin’ really. He does that a lot, gives me the creeps sometimes. But then again, a man gotta do what he’s gotta do.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” you gently kick the pavement with the tip of your shoe. “But no threats necessary. I’m sure they’re going as fast as they can.” 

“We got the goods!”

Sarah comes running, a wide smile stretched across her face as she hugs her jacket tight around her. Joel follows, a lopsided smile on his lips.

When Sarah reaches you and Tommy, she looks around then back to you, she opens the front of her jacket. “See,” she smirks, showing you the various snacks hidden underneath the thick layer. 

Tommy whistles. “That’s quite a haul, baby girl. How long is this movie? Five hours?” 

“I wish,” Sarah snorts. “I’ve been waiting for this a loooong time uncle Tommy. Let me enjoy it.” 

Joel appears next to you, his own jacket also looking a bit tighter. You look up, smiling, and he parts his jacket, showing you, as Sarah had dubbed, “the goods”. 

“I just want to say for the record,” you exclaim, opening the back door. “If you two get sick I’m not cleaning up after you.” 

“You break my heart, Sweet Tea.” Joel answers, hand on his chest as if he’s been shot. “And here I thought you had my back.” 

“I do but not for self-inflicted stomach aches.” 

Sarah slides in after you and Joel takes his place at the passenger seat. Tommy looks at you through the review mirror as he buckles his belt.

“Sweet Tea?” he asks.

“Long story,” you answer, “I’ll tell you later.” 

The cinema. A place where every art form, visual or otherwise, shakes hands and comes together to create the most amazing of worlds. 

Ever since you were a kid you had this connection to the atmosphere. The scent of popcorn, the dim lights, the other movie enthusiasts excited to witness the magic of it all. You don’t know what it is that draws you to it. From memory, you remember instances where it would only be you and your brother at the movies, the two of you practically owning the dark room for about two hours. It was fun, it was almost magical. Just you and him. That’s it. It was a small town so it wasn’t a hard thing to come by. 

Now it’s the opposite. The screening room is filled to the brim, not one seat empty. Joel is on your left side and Sarah on your right, next to her sits Tommy. You notice she keeps patting her jacket. A small smile tugs at your lips, it almost looks like she’s afraid that the snacks would disappear. 

Despite the past and the present being drastically different, the feeling is the same. It’s a similar feeling to returning home after a long time. You’re excited, giddy almost. And it’s not because of the movie you’re about to watch—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, one of Sarah’s favorite franchises— it’s from the memories of it. 

The lights turn off completely, the commercials start to play. 

Joel leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours. His lips touch your ear and your stomach tightens. You’re happy he can’t see your face. It would’ve been a dead giveaway if he did. 

“Pass these to Tommy,” he whispers, handing you a box of milk duds. You do as you’re told, Joel then pulls out a pack of Reese’s Pieces. “I do prefer the cups,” he mutters into your ear, you’re not listening, you just focus on the warmth of his breath and the way he turns your hand over. “But these will do for now.” 

You feel the small bite-sized peanut butter and chocolatey goodness falling into your sweaty palm. Throwing back your head, you plop them all into your mouth. You feel his gaze but purposefully keep your eyes glued to the screen. He’s too close. His presence bearing onto you like a heavy blanket. 

The movie finally starts and you do everything to keep your non-existent attention span on the large screen. 

An hour in, goosebumps begin to rise over your skin. It’s cold. The chill is something you always forget about the cinema. You didn’t really have a need to bring your jacket with you when you went out, the night air being warm. But of course, you’d forgotten that you always got chilly in the cinema, no matter how hot it was outside. 

Joel must’ve felt your shivering because soon enough you feel his fingers curling around your wrist. He shuffles closer. 

“Are you cold?” he murmurs and you nod. His fingers don’t desert you as he moves over Sarah to grab his jacket. He throws it over you, warmth immediately coiling around your body. “Better?” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks.” 

You’re hyper-aware that his hand remains on your wrist, some portion of his jacket covering your tangled limbs. His fingers tighten, thumb smoothing over your heated skin. Your skin prickles under his touch and soon he starts to skim your forearm up and down with the tips of his fingers. You cheat a glance at him but his sole focus is on the screen. His lips are pressed tight, brows pinched together. When a specifically bright scene appears on screen, you can see the vein meandering down his neck. 

You want to stare at him forever but you know you can’t. Your eyes flitting back to the screen, you ignore the way his fingers continue to move. His touch is much rougher compared to your own. More textured. His blunt nails scrape against your skin, the pads of his fingers travel to your knuckles then move back up again. 

It almost feels like he’s returning the gesture from before. The thought strikes fear. Is this his way of telling you that he knows? That he’d sensed your emotions through your fingertips and telling you; I see you. 

You want to snatch your hand away and your fingers twitch with the need for it. You haven’t heard Asha’s name for a while— But it’s not like Joel talked much about his personal life, and when your alone times with Tommy became limited you heard very little from the ongoing relationship. 

In the end, you don’t pull your hand back and he doesn’t stop touching you. The darkness hides the want, the need, the attraction. Because that is what this is right? Attraction. You’re not alone in your feelings. You can’t be. This was a silent message. A plea for you to say, I see you, back. 

And you do see him. You always have. 

The feeling of his fingers long lingers even after the intermission has come and passed. It stays with you as you exit the movies, as you listen to Sarah excitedly talk about her favorite parts, as Tommy bids you three farewell and drives on home. 

It lingers still. 

You don’t know what time it is. The only thing you do know is that it’s late. Very late. But no matter how much you toss and turn you can’t sleep. Your mind is wide awake with thoughts of Joel and nothing else. Him and his fingers, his lips, his neck. 

It shouldn’t surprise you that you end up sneaking a hand under your shirt, feeling yourself and imagining it was him instead. 

The sensation of your fingertips brushing over your sensitive skin is electrifying. You close your eyes and imagine it's Joel's hands exploring your body, his fingers tracing circles around your nipples and teasing them until they become tight and hard. His lips trailing down your neck, leaving a burning trail behind.

You bite back your moans as your hand moves further down, slipping between your thighs. Your fingers tease and stroke, exploring every inch of your wetness. You press down harder, your body aching and begging for more, as you think of Joel's hands exploring you. His fingers slipping in and out of your folds, tantalizing and teasing you until you can't take it anymore.

“Joel,” you whisper into the darkness, a prayer. “Joel, please.” 

Your breathing becomes shallow as your orgasm builds, and you moan out his name as you let go. The sensation washes over you, and you can almost feel Joel's hands on your body, his lips on your skin. When you pull out your fingers, you feel like a ragdoll, your limbs buzzing with your fading orgasm. You let out a breath. 

The phone rings. 

Your eyes narrow when you see Tommy’s name flashing on the small screen. Confusion and worry clouding your post-coitus haze, you pick up the phone. 

“Tommy,” you answer. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he lets out a breath, his voice sounds frenzied. “I…I saw a—” whatever he was about to say he must’ve decided against saying it because the rest never comes. “I want to ask you somethin’”.

“You can ask me anything.” 

You say it but in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have. Your heart is restless, your stomach clenching and unclenching in the span of seconds. You hear him breathing heavily from the other line. 

“Would you like to go out with me?” he asks in one exhale. “Like…on a date.” 

Joel doesn’t want the day to start. It’s unbearably warm, and unknowing to him, he had cast his shirt to the floor sometime during the late night. The morning chill settles over his back. His eyes are closed, his cock hard. He presses temptingly into the pillow between his legs. He has no idea how it ended up there, but he’s grateful for the added pressure. Joel doesn’t think he could ever forget what happened last night. 

The way he touched your burning skin under his jacket, the way you kept stealing glances from him—it was all still too vivid in his head. But then…then you went to bed, and so did he. 

When he woke up in the middle of the night to get water, he didn’t expect to hear his name coming from your room. He waited and listened, you whispered it again. It was such a faint sound that if it wasn’t the dead of night there was no way he could’ve heard it. His cheeks heat up at the memory. He just stayed there, like a deer in headlights, and fucking listened to you get off with his name tenderly falling from your lips. 

Joel had turned and rushed back to his room, his parched mouth now filled with saliva, water forgotten. 

And now, with those thoughts swirling in his head, he grinds himself into the soft pillow. A low groan echoes from the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes tighter. What were you thinking about? Was it images of him tasting your cunt? Him fucking his cock deep into your sopping heat? Which one was it? What was it that forced those sounds out of your lips? 

Frustrated by the lack of friction, his eyes snap open with something resembling anger. Joel kicks off his sweatpants, brings the pillow underneath him, and squeezes the ends together, forming a crease. He shoves his aching cock between them, wishing it was you instead. 

He leans back, letting the warmth of the pillow engulf him, and takes a deep breath. His body is trembling as he moves his hips slowly. He lets out a low moan as his hips grind against the pillow, the sensation of it rubbing against his hard cock setting off sparks of pleasure throughout his body. The morning sun pours from between the curtains, kissing his skin. His hands grip the pillow tight as he moves his body faster and faster, letting out a series of moans and gasps. 

He imagines it's your body he's thrusting against, your soft curves, your tight embrace. His breathing becomes laboured, his balls draw tight, his stomach clenches. He sees a dark patch growing across the fabric. Joel collapses, his face pressing into the sheets as he rocks his hip forward like a dog in heat. His skin feels raw and over-sensitive. Every time the fabric rubs against his skin, he hisses. 

With one final thrust, he lets out a long, drawn-out moan as he comes hard, his mind filled with thoughts of you. 

He falls onto the pillow, panting heavily. The aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through his body. His cock is still pulsing with pleasure as it slowly softens. His hands run over the pillow, feeling the warmth and wetness left behind from his release. He can still feel the tightness of his orgasm, the pressure inside him slowly fading away. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a satisfied sigh. Joel wants to feel you against him, to cage you in between him and the bed. 

His cock twitches. 

Joel turns onto his side, his body feeling heavy. The guilt gnaws at his insides. What the hell is wrong with him? First, he touches you during the movies like a man possessed, then he listens to you through the door, and now he’s fucking his pillow with thoughts of you. He groans and flips over to his back. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, another groan leaving him. 

He has a fucking girlfriend, and no matter how lax the relationship was, he couldn’t continue on doing this. He needs to break up with Asha, then he needs to talk to you, get things sorted. 

When he allows his arms to fall to his sides, Joel entertains the thought that maybe—just maybe—everything might work out. 

[klaineadvent]

Klaine Advent is Nearly Here!!

Hi Everyone!

Me again, your friendly neighborhood advent host!

First thing: We’re going to stick with the Klaine Advent moniker for this year, in no small part because COVID has taken down my household one by one over the past few weeks, and the amount of work necessary to rebrand the Advent as something else was just out of reach in my limited time. The poll did offer up some good, more inclusive alternatives, so I’ll be revisiting a renaming of the challenge in the new year. 

On to the good stuff….

The Dates. December 1 - December 24 

The Words. Every day around 6am, US Eastern Standard Time, a fresh new word will pop out of the Klaine Advent queue. This year the words are not alphabetical, and were chosen by a random word generator, and the wonderful @caramelcoffeeaddict did all of the artwork again this year!

How to participate. Anyone can contribute, no need to sign up! There will be a single word prompt post each day for 24 days (December 1-24) and you can write a drabble (or a sentence or a novel, if you like), create an art piece, make fresh gifs based on the prompt - whatever inspires you! This year the tag will be: “klaine advent 2022” and “klaine advent: [WORD]” (so make sure all of your contributions are tagged so we can find them!). 

Contribute however works best for you. You can do something every day, every 4th day, once a week, altogether at the end, whatever works for you and your schedule. Use all the prompts or pick and choose what speaks to you. Set your own challenges. The only requirements for the Klaine Advent are that it be Klaine centered, and that it references or uses one of the word prompt in some way.

Volunteers will be reblogging fics to the @todaydreambelieversfic blog, so you can always go scroll the blog to find the latest entries.  Of course everyone (especially the authors!) would be delighted if people reblogged to their own blog - the more people who reblog something the wider the potential viewing audience. We want to encourage everyone to reblog as many fics as they like all throughout the month!!

Partnership. This year again we’ll be partnering with @todaydreambelieversfic.  Authors and other creators for Klaine Advent who would like an additional place to promote their works are welcome to join as members. Just send a private message to @todaydreambelieversfic with your email address and they’ll add you to the blog membership.

Archive of Our Own. We have created a collection on AO3 for those people who don’t post to tumblr, and where those folks who do post to tumblr can share their advent works if you like! You can find this collection here!

Want to Volunteer? @1908jmd will be covering a lot of the reblogging work, but can always use people to help with the daily reblogs!  If you can spare one or two days please signup here!! 

“But what if I don’t write or make art and don’t have time to volunteer?”  You are the most important person in the Advent!! Read the fics, look at the art, let the authors and artists know how much you appreciate their work by reblogging and commenting and liking and all those things creators like. Nothing helps a writer or artist losing steam get motivated more than a nice comment from someone. 

Look for a follow up post on December 1 to kick things off, and add anything I may have forgotten here.

Happy Writing Everyone!

@slayediest

[roboticchibitan]

A Cottage Witch and her Dragon 18

(You can read the rest of this story on AO3 here)

It was Monday again, and Serenity was feeling a little blue about the endless weekly cycle of her life. Usually, this didn't bother her. Living a simple life where not much changed besides her daily conversations with her neighbors was usually comforting. Perhaps she was blue about something else, and it was making living a simple life a bit difficult when usually it was a comfort.

Serenity sat at her booth and shivered. Spring was here, but the mornings were still cold. Serenity had been at the market since early morning, setting up long before any of the shops in Valley Commons' market square had opened.

Around nine that morning, Serenity noticed some people loitering outside Maury's chocolate shop. Slowly, more and more people started to gather, forming something like a haphazard queue outside. Serenity saw Liz and Lucy in the line, Lucy chatting excitedly at anyone who happened to be within earshot. Serenity smiled at this, feeling fondness for her little neighbor well up within her.

Serenity and Maury were friendly. Perhaps they weren't good friends, but they enjoyed each other's occasional company either in Serenity's cottage or Maury's apartment above the chocolate shop, drinking tea together and chatting about magic, or their respective business ventures. Dragon looked forward to each visit with unparalleled excitement. He was convinced Marcus, Maury's snake familiar, was the coolest being on the planet.

Serenity hadn't talked to Maury lately, so she wasn't sure what was up, but she figured it he had either advertised a sale, or a new flavor of chocolate. He often rotated the chocolate flavors he offered, and every time there was a new flavor or a returning favorite, a line formed around the building. Serenity would have to hope there was still chocolate left when she closed up shop for the day.

At ten o'clock exactly, James, the young clerk for Maury's Chocolate Shop, opened the door and placed a sign outside that loudly proclaimed "NEW FLAVOR TRY OUR TENDERNESS CHOCOLATE." Then he gestured for the first people in line to enter the shop and went back inside.

The day continued to pass by. Serenity chatted with some of her regulars. Even if they didn't have any intention of buying something that day, this was how news and ideas were spread in Valley Commons. The people were all connected by many things.

Some of these things were bigger, such as social class, shared religion, or shared beliefs. But the important things were smaller. All of the children who ran around the neighborhood had a connection to the man who sold roasted nuts. He gave them his unsold leftovers, because he was a kind man and he saw his own children in their eyes. Poverty makes generosity one of the greatest virtues.

Serenity could see the web of connections between people, if she concentrated. And this web told her that no one was unimportant, and everyone should be treated with kindness and respect, because everyone is connected to every other single person by their shared humanity. This was the first part of the web her teacher had taught her to see.

Even people Serenity considered cruel and unkind had this connection, though sometimes it was less strong. But Serenity's teacher had told her something very wise. Her teacher had not been nurturing, but she was still a very kind person, in her own way. And the wisdom she passed onto Serenity was this: humanity is something we bring out in each other. When you are suffering, and your friend comes to comfort you, you have brought out the humanity in them. For some people, it is very hard to draw this out, and sometimes it takes an unfortunately long time to find the last glimmer of humanity left in a person, but it is there. It's always there, if you look hard enough.

Serenity's teacher had passed on another piece of wisdom, but this one was harder for Serenity to swallow.

"Serenity," she had said. "You've lost your family, and I'm not the kind of person that can give you a family again. You are suffering and lonely. It's natural for you to find a way to cope with all this. There's a part of you that wants to make sure no one ever hurts like you're hurting ever again. And there's a part of you that thinks 'if I suffer, why shouldn't everyone else suffer?' You have a choice in which path you want to take. This is the point where someone becomes kind, or they become cruel.

But it's important to remember this moment, because it will help you when confronted with cruel people down the road. You need to really take to heart that you could become cruel, and that if you did, you would be cruel because you are suffering. You have me to guide you, but if someone else lost their family, and they did not have a wholesome person to guide them, they could easily become cruel.

The source of cruelty is always suffering. It doesn't mean we forgive the cruelty; it means we have compassion for the suffering, but we do not have to forgive to have this compassion. Remember that, when you meet someone who barely has any humanity left in them. They may be cruel, they may be unforgivable, but they got there because they are still suffering, and you could easily have been in their place if you had lived their life instead of yours."

Serenity understood this lesson, but it was still hard sometimes to find that compassion in herself. And sometimes she plain didn't want to. But she did her best, because she had learned the hard way that compassion wasn't for the other person, it was for her. Perhaps your compassion will never reach the other person, but when you are angry or hate a person, that eats you up inside and causes you to suffer too. So even if she had to force herself, she always looked for a reason to feel compassion towards people, even as she actively fought back against their cruelty or refused to forgive them. You can have compassion without forgiveness. You can have compassion while actively working to prevent someone from causing harm. Some days she was better at it than others.

Serenity's reminiscence was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Liz and Lucy.

"Serenity! We got you chocolate!" Lucy ran up to her and held out a little package.

"Thank you!" Serenity said, taking the chocolate from her and smiling up at them both from where she was sitting.

"We know you'll be stuck at your stall all day, so we got you one of the new tenderness chocolates," Liz said, returning her smile. "It's... very good."

Serenity noticed the pause, but didn't say anything.

"It's good! It made me feel soft," said Lucy, suddenly bashful.

"Soft is a good feeling," Serenity smiled at her.

"Eat it! Eat it!"

"Lucy, Serenity has to work. She might want to eat it when she gets home, so she can savor it." Liz turned to Serenity. "You might want to eat it in private. It made me cry."

"Thank you for the warning," Serenity said, her heart squeezing with excitement.

She was definitely looking forward to this new experience. Serenity might not be romantic, but romance is not the only thing that can make us feel tenderness, and she was excited to see what tenderness the chocolate could draw out of her.

The anticipation of going home and trying a new thing made the day exciting. Some of the market-goers that stopped by her booth had tried the chocolate, and they all had different things to say about it.

Mrs Cuttle, the wife of the leather worker who rented a stall across from Serenity, stopped by to compliment the shawl Serenity had made for her as part of a commission from her husband. She mentioned she had tried the chocolate, and Serenity, with eager anticipation, asked what it was like.

"Oh, it's really something else," Mrs Cuttle said of the chocolate. "It goes deep down inside you and shows you things you hadn't thought of in so long. So many little memories. It's a wonderful thing. Maury is doing wonderful things for this community."

"It's amazing," another market wanderer said. "It makes you feel so full and soft."

Every person Serenity asked about the chocolate strengthened her excitement to try this chocolate. She didn't feel like she was lacking anything by not being romantic, but tenderness is so often only associated with romantic love and parental love, and Serenity didn't have either of those to feel. So she was intensely curious what the chocolate would show her.

Finally, evening came and Serenity packed up her teas and handmade items. The table and chair she used stayed with the booth so the other person who rented this booth on Tuesdays and Thursdays could use it. Serenity was glad she didn't have to figure out a way to take them home. All she needed to bring all her wares to market was use a backpack she had put a shrinking enchantment on, but you can only use it for things small enough to fit through the opening of the backpack.

Arriving home after a long day of anticipation, Serenity threw her backpack haphazardly onto her chair and rummaged around in it until she found the chocolate. Dragon, who had stayed home all day as he often did, was laying in his bed next to the fireplace, where coals still glowed. Serenity had recently taught him how to keep the fire going, and she suspected he aided the fire a little bit with magic, because there was a faint cloud of magic around the coals.

"Guess what!" She told him.

Dragon's ears perked up, and he lazily opened one eye. A sleepy questioning sensation came from him.

"Maury has a new chocolate flavor!"

Dragon sent a feeling of "that's nice" that didn't hide his indifference. After all, dragons cannot eat chocolate without getting sick. So why should he care?

"You're no fun."

Dragon sent a feeling of "yeah, so what?" His sass was never ending.

"Fine, fine. You keep sleeping. I want to try this chocolate!"

All she got was a huff in response.

Serenity looked at the chocolate. She hadn't bothered to ask what flavor it was. It was apparently enough of an experience that none of her customers had thought to mention this simple detail, either.

Serenity took her bite. A dark chocolate shell broke, and a soft, sweet and salty caramel gushed through the cracks. The caramel didn't have the odd aftertaste some caramels have. It was soft and the salt perfectly accented the sweetness. It was absolutely delicious.

The magic didn't take long. First, Serenity felt something welling up from deep, deep within her. Her heart squeezed and her chest and belly felt warm. There was a softness to it, as it came up from within and spread through her entire body, heart, and mind. It was gentle and yet fierce, a feeling of love that makes you soft for others and hard against anyone who would hurt them.

Mrs Roberts unexpectedly popped into her mind. Serenity thought of a secret she kept. Serenity's joint tea was made for effect rather than taste, so it had an odd flavor that Mr Roberts didn't like. So Mrs Roberts secretly paid Serenity extra to put cinnamon and hibiscus in large amounts into the tea. Mr Roberts had no idea he was getting custom blended tea.

The tenderness of it overwhelmed her. She thought of the expression of love on Mrs Robert's face when she came to pick up the tea, and of the gentleness Serenity herself felt, when faced with a secret born out of love that had lasted decades.

She realized she was feeling a gentle tenderness, as if Mrs Robert's love had inspired a bit of love in Serenity's own heart for the elderly couple. Serenity wasn't as close to them, but she thought of their neighborly practice of popping by to borrow a few eggs for a recipe, and the nice evenings she had spent with them. Her heart squeezed. She did love these people, and that love inspired a red hot fierceness, and also a gentle softness.

Dragon stirred, catching Serenity's attention, and suddenly it was his turn to inspire this tenderness. Serenity thought back to getting his spirit egg, and how it had taken her a month to get it to hatch, but how worth it it was to have him there with her. He was so precious to her. She often took him for granted, because he was always with her and had just become a fact of life.

But looking at him now, she was filled with wonder. Wonder that he existed. Wonder that she would never be alone again. Wonder at this little life, still learning about the world at such a fast pace. She felt overwhelming warmth blossom in her chest. This little life, so small and yet so big, was so precious to her. She didn't know how to live without him. She prayed she would never have to learn. For him, her tenderness felt like caring for a small life that depended on her, and made her feel like she would do anything to protect him, and even more to make sure he was able to live a happy life.

Serenity looked around her cottage, and suddenly the web of connections that was The Great Soul Of All Things became visible to her. It was clear why the magic had shown her this. Almost everything in this room had some connection to Granny Thomas.

Granny. Serenity had been without family from the time she was sixteen, until she moved into this cottage two years ago. Granny barged into her cottage to check out the new neighbor, and instinctively knew "this is a person who needs love." And Granny was someone who loved with a vengeance.

Serenity's chest squeezed again, and she felt such fierce love that reached deep, deep inside her. Down to her core, Serenity loved this old witch who had walked into her life and refused to leave. Granny was full of love, and she wasn't stingy with who she gave it to, and Serenity wanted so badly to learn from and be like Granny.

Suddenly, a memory flashed before her mind. Serenity remembered the day she had been too sick to go to market, and the entire neighborhood had taken care of her. It was a memory she treasured deeply, but secretly, the things she treasured most of all was just a passing moment from that day.

Serenity didn't have a thermometer. So that day, Granny had gently laid a hand across her forehead to check for a fever, and now Serenity could see the tenderness of it. It was the tenderness of a caretaker who deeply loved the person in their charge.

The gesture was brief, but at the time it had almost made Serenity cry. She hadn't had contact like that in a very long time. It reminded her of distant, fuzzy memories of her mother doing the same when she was ill as a child. It made her feel loved and cared for in a way she hadn't experienced in many years. The feel of Granny's hands, cool against her hot forehead, had been such a relief in so many ways. She would always treasure that memory.

Thinking about that simple gesture, tears welled over from Serenity's eyes. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone. She loved and was loved. She felt her love for Granny so deeply it felt like it would break her apart. The love went down to her core, and warmed her there. She felt like her heart was a furnace, and her love was the fire within. It felt warm, comforting, and roared like a bonfire in her chest. More tears fell, as she felt the true depth of the gentle love between her and her elderly neighbor.

Slowly, the effects of the chocolate faded, though Serenity's tears didn't dry up right away. What a blessing, to love and be loved. We all have moments where we fall in love with someone. Romantic love is only one type of love. You can fall in platonic love with someone. You can have a silly moment with a friend where you look at them and realize, "Wow, I love this person and I want them to be in my life for a long time." And what a love it can be. Looking back, Serenity knew the fever check had been the moment she knew she truly loved Granny and was truly loved in return.

Serenity dried her tears. Dragon, in a rare display of maturity, left her to feel her feelings herself. He could feel her emotional state, and he knew she was in no danger of pain. It was only when she had collected herself that he took action.

Getting up from his bed, Dragon trotted over to the counter, jumped up, and pushed the power button on her magic kettle. Then he sat and looked at her expectantly.

"Are you suggesting some tea? I think that's an excellent idea. Let's have some tea."

Serenity got up and set about making tea, feeling her love for her companions with new deliberateness. She could choose to hold onto this feeling. The chocolate only shows you things from your own heart, after all. So as she made her tea, she made a decision to consciously choose to hold onto the tenderness in her heart and feed it warmth until all she felt was love. As the day came to a close, Serenity realized she no longer felt her life was monotonous. Instead, she looked forward to seeing her neighbors and finding new ways to love them. It was a good thought to fall asleep to.

[incorrect-star-allies]

Hey everyone!

I’m Lily, your friendly neighborhood mod. This, obviously, is an incorrect quote blog dedicated to Kirby and the colorful cast of characters surrounding him. Feel free to read on, but before you do, here’s some stuff you might wanna know:

My inbox is always open, at least for now. Ask me questions or give me quotes, and I’ll add them to the queue. Note that I reserve the right to not post your submission or answer your question.

Try to keep things on topic. If you have a question about things not related to Kirby, you probably shouldn’t be asking them to a Kirby blog.

While this blog is called “Incorrect Star Allies”, you can always submit quotes for characters outside the Dream Friends! The name came from the fact that “Incorrect Kirby Quotes” is probably taken, and I wanted something unique ^^

Last, but certainly not least, have fun!

[bellarke-events]

Is this event for fanfic/gifs/etc. only?

Absolutely not! Our lists of fanworks include: fanfic, fanart, fanvids, gifs, graphics, moodboards. Basically, as long as its an original creation (meaning you made it!), it’s pretty much accepted!

When are we expected to post?

Valentine’s Day, February 14th!

What if we’re in different timezones? When should we post if we’re ahead of US time?

Whenever works best for you! If you��re in Australia and you’re gifting someone in the US (or whatever other combination of places) you can post on your time, or you can wait a little for a better time you think would be good for you both. Remember queueing/scheduling posts is a thing, that’s always an option!

I’m running behind, can I get an extension to post my gift?

You can get an extension, on a few conditions.

Firstly, you of course have to let us know you need an extension. We understand that things happen, but we want to make sure everyone gets their gift!

Secondly, extensions will last until the weekend following the 14th (18th-19th) to make sure we can come up with a backup gift in case something happens. We’d love to give everyone free rein, but we don’t want anyone to feel like they were forgotten, you know?

Thirdly, if you do need an extension for your finished piece, remember you can post a sneak peek beforehand! Writing a fic? Post a paragraph or two. Got a fanvid? You could post a small snippet. Got fanart? Post a close-up or maybe some of your process. We do recommend a sneak peek post if you need to request an extension if that’s possible, I’m sure everyone would love it!

Can I participate outside of Tumblr?

Technically yes. While all of the official event info will remain here, you can participate without a Tumblr username (though you will need to sign up with some username, whether it’s Twitter, AO3, etc.). If you do sign up without a Tumblr user, please contact both your assigned user and us (Anon asks are open!) with your gift!

Will you post the gifts on the blog?

We will! We will reblog all posts in the #bellarkevalentines and #bellarkevalentines23 tags and will create a post with a direct link to any creations posted outside Tumblr. If you don’t see your gift on our blog and it’s been a day or two since it was posted, shoot us an im or an ask and we’ll get to it ASAP!

What happens if someone pulls out? Will I still get a gift?

Yes!!! We will do everything we can to make sure everyone gets a gift. Your friendly neighborhood admin will be handling backup gifts in case anything comes up with your assigned gifter. We will also try to keep you as up to date about gift extensions and gift backups as possible. If you have any problems with your gift please let us know!

Posting day is over and I haven’t seen my gift or gotten an extension notification, what now?

Please contact us directly as soon as you can! We’ll make sure if your gift has been posted, we’ll send you a link to it if you missed it somehow. If it hasn’t been posted, we will contact your gifter and begin working on a backup gift if we haven’t heard back from them in a day.

[spiraledfaun]

Hey everyone! Your friendly neighborhood deerboy will be extremely busy, from now until April, so my posting will decrease by quite a bit, and there will be even less of a guarantee I'll be able to respond to messages or asks quickly. If you do decide to send any of these (which I encourage, I love talking to y'all ^-^), please be patient with my response time! Please also know that while my queue may be posting, I may not necessarily be online.

Everyone have a great rest of the month, and I'll see you hypnosluts in April~ 😘

-Faun 🦌💚