#Car Graphics Florida

[bloghrexach]

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[makingqueerhistory]

Queer Books Challenged in Florida Schools and Libraries

There are some affiliate links below in case you want to support MQH.

Gender Queer: A Memoir, Maia Kobabe: Now, Gender Queer is here. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears.

The Color Purple, Alice Walker: Separated as girls, sisters Celie and Nettie sustain their loyalty to and hope in each other across time, distance and silence. Through a series of letters spanning nearly thirty years, first from Celie to God, then the sisters to each other despite the unknown, the novel draws readers into its rich and memorable portrayals of Celie, Nettie, Shug Avery and Sofia and their experience. The Color Purple broke the silence around domestic and sexual abuse, narrating the lives of women through their pain and struggle, companionship and growth, resilience and bravery.

Julián Is a Mermaid, Jessica Love: While riding the subway home from the pool with his abuela one day, Julián notices three women spectacularly dressed up. Their hair billows in brilliant hues, their dresses end in fishtails, and their joy fills the train car. When Julián gets home, daydreaming of the magic he's seen, all he can think about is dressing up just like the ladies in his own fabulous mermaid costume: a butter-yellow curtain for his tail, the fronds of a potted fern for his headdress. But what will Abuela think about the mess he makes -- and even more importantly, what will she think about how Julián sees himself? Mesmerizing and full of heart, Jessica Love's author-illustrator debut is a jubilant picture of self-love and a radiant celebration of individuality.

Drama: A Graphic Novel, Raina Telgemeier: Callie loves theater. And while she would totally try out for her middle school's production of Moon over Mississippi, she can't really sing. Instead she's the set designer for the drama department's stage crew, and this year she's determined to create a set worthy of Broadway on a middle-school budget. But how can she, when she doesn't know much about carpentry, ticket sales are down, and the crew members are having trouble working together? Not to mention the onstage AND offstage drama that occurs once the actors are chosen. And when two cute brothers enter the picture, things get even crazier!

Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas: Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can't get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his true gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school's resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

I Am Billie Jean King, Brad Meltzer: This friendly, fun biography series focuses on the traits that made our heroes great--the traits that kids can aspire to in order to live heroically themselves. Each book tells the story of one of America's icons in a lively, conversational way that works well for the youngest nonfiction readers and that always includes the hero's childhood influences. At the back are an excellent timeline and photos. This volume features Billie Jean King, the world champion tennis player who fought successfully for women's rights. From a young age, Billie Jean King loved sports--especially tennis! But as she got older, she realized that plenty of people, even respected male athletes, didn't take women athletes seriously. She set to prove them wrong and show girls everywhere that sports are for everyone, regardless of gender.

This One Summer, Mariko Tamaki: Every summer, Rose goes with her mom and dad to a lake house in Awago Beach. It's their getaway, their refuge. Rosie's friend Windy is always there, too, like the little sister she never had. But this summer is different. Rose's mom and dad won't stop fighting, and when Rose and Windy seek a distraction from the drama, they find themselves with a whole new set of problems. One of the local teens - just a couple of years older than Rose and Windy - is caught up in something bad... Something life threatening. It's a summer of secrets, and sorrow, and growing up, and it's a good thing Rose and Windy have each other.

Marriage of a Thousand Lies, Sj Sindu: Lucky and her husband, Krishna, are gay. They present an illusion of marital bliss to their conservative Sri Lankan-American families, while each dates on the side. It's not ideal, but for Lucky, it seems to be working. She goes out dancing, she drinks a bit, she makes ends meet by doing digital art on commission. But when Lucky's grandmother has a nasty fall, Lucky returns to her childhood home and unexpectedly reconnects with her former best friend and first lover, Nisha, who is preparing for her own arranged wedding with a man she's never met.

And Tango Makes Three, Peter Parnell: At the penguin house at the Central Park Zoo, two penguins named Roy and Silo were a little bit different from the others. But their desire for a family was the same. And with the help of a kindly zookeeper, Roy and Silo got the chance to welcome a baby penguin of their very own.

More Happy Than Not, Adam Silvera: In the months following his father's suicide, sixteen-year-old Aaron Soto can't seem to find happiness again, despite the support of his girlfriend, Genevieve, and his overworked mom. Grief and the smile-shaped scar on his wrist won't let him forget the pain. But when Aaron meets Thomas, a new kid in the neighborhood, something starts to shift inside him. Aaron can't deny his unexpected feelings for Thomas despite the tensions their friendship has created with Genevieve and his tight-knit crew. Since Aaron can't stay away from Thomas or turn off his newfound happiness, he considers taking drastic actions. The Leteo Institute's revolutionary memory-altering procedure will straighten him out, even if it means forgetting who he truly is.

Melissa, Alex Gino: When people look at Melissa, they think they see a boy named George. But she knows she's not a boy. She knows she's a girl.

Melissa thinks she'll have to keep this a secret forever. Then her teacher announces that their class play is going to be Charlotte's Web. Melissa really, really, REALLY wants to play Charlotte. But the teacher says she can't even try out for the part... because she's a boy.

With the help of her best friend, Kelly, Melissa comes up with a plan. Not just so she can be Charlotte -- but so everyone can know who she is, once and for all.

A Quick & Easy Guide to Queer & Trans Identities, Mady G, Jules Zuckerberg: In this quick and easy guide to queer and trans identities, cartoonists Mady G and Jules Zuckerberg guide you through the basics of the LGBT+ world! Covering essential topics like sexuality, gender identity, coming out, and navigating relationships, this guide explains the spectrum of human experience through informative comics, interviews, worksheets, and imaginative examples. A great starting point for anyone curious about queer and trans life, and helpful for those already on their own journeys!

This Book Is Gay, Juno Dawson: This candid, funny, and uncensored exploration of sexuality and what it's like to grow up LGBTQ also includes real stories from people across the gender and sexual spectrums, not to mention hilarious illustrations.

Little & Lion, Brandy Colbert: When Suzette comes home to Los Angeles from her boarding school in New England, she's isn't sure if she'll ever want to go back. L.A. is where her friends and family are (as well as her crush, Emil). And her stepbrother, Lionel, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, needs her emotional support. But as she settles into her old life, Suzette finds herself falling for someone new...the same girl her brother is in love with. When Lionel's disorder spirals out of control, Suzette is forced to confront her past mistakes and find a way to help her brother before he hurts himself--or worse.

King and the Dragonflies, Kacen Callender: Twelve-year-old Kingston James is sure his brother Khalid has turned into a dragonfly. When Khalid unexpectedly passed away, he shed what was his first skin for another to live down by the bayou in their small Louisiana town. Khalid still visits in dreams, and King must keep these secrets to himself as he watches grief transform his family.

It would be easier if King could talk with his best friend, Sandy Sanders. But just days before he died, Khalid told King to end their friendship, after overhearing a secret about Sandy-that he thinks he might be gay. "You don't want anyone to think you're gay too, do you?"

Sorted: Growing Up, Coming Out, and Finding My Place: A Transgender Memoir, Jackson Bird: An unflinching and endearing memoir from LGBTQ+ advocate Jackson Bird about how he finally sorted things out and came out as a transgender man.When Jackson Bird was twenty-five, he came out as transgender to his friends, family, and anyone in the world with an internet connection. Assigned female at birth and raised as a girl, he often wondered if he should have been born a boy. Jackson didn't share this thought with anyone because he didn't think he could share it with anyone.

The Black Flamingo, Dean Atta: Michael is a mixed-race gay teen growing up in London. All his life, he's navigated what it means to be Greek-Cypriot and Jamaican--but never quite feeling Greek or Black enough.

As he gets older, Michael's coming out is only the start of learning who he is and where he fits in. When he discovers the Drag Society, he finally finds where he belongs--and the Black Flamingo is born

Explore the full list here.

[miyahchan]

Week Two - October 9th - Grim Reaper!Higuruma x Reader

Synopsis: After a close call with death, the Grim Reaper himself can’t seem to let you go.

Word Count: 2.6k

🚨 Warnings: 18+ content, dubcon (alcohol consumption), oral sex (male receiving), penetration, girl on top, missionary, pretty smutty in general.

A/N: This post does have some content that can be seen as “morbid���. There’s nothing super graphic or anything but death is a pretty heavily talked about thing in here so be aware. Also, I’m hoping everyone is staying safe here in Florida with this hurricane coming. Evacuate if you need to and don’t forget to stock up on supplies and gas. I’m praying for everyone’s safety! 🚨

Check out the official Kinktober 2024 post HERE!

           3 months ago, Higuruma appeared downtown, dawning his usual suit and briefcase. He didn’t take the train, hail a cab, or even walk. Oddly enough, he just always appeared when he was needed. He stood on the corner of Main St. and 4th Ave, just waiting patiently. The streets were unusually bare, the only sounds filling Higuruma’s ears being the lulling sound of the wind and the occasional rattle of raccoons rummaging through trash cans.

            Who would it be tonight?

            Higuruma started his walk down the street, glancing into the windows that he passed. He passed a bar. Would it be the man who passed out after too many beers? Maybe alcohol poisoning? Then, he passed an office building. Would it be an employee leaving work, only to be mugged and killed? No. Those didn’t feel right.

            Finally, a roar of an engine made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not from fear, but anticipation. This was it.

            A silver car sped down the street, swerving uncontrollably. Higuruma only watched idly. The car ran the red light before fully losing control and heading directly toward a brick building. It collided with the brick, the front of the car crushing like a soda can and completely caving in. The airbags exploded from inside, suffocating the driver, who hadn’t moved. It was a speedy, harsh crash, one of the worst Higuruma had ever seen in the entirety of his job. He’d seen much worse, of course – sick children, freak accidents, even the grisliest of murders. But he couldn’t pretend that this one didn’t make him wince a bit.

            Had it been a drunk driver? Texting and driving? Over the plethora of years he’d been alive, Higuruma learned how idiotic humans were. For such weak beings, they constantly overestimated their mortality and made the worst decisions. He couldn’t count on ten hands how many people he’d seen die due to the choice of getting behind the wheel while intoxicated, or thinking that a phone call was more important than keeping their eyes on the road. He’d grown indifferent to it, knowing his role.

            He made his way toward the hunk of metal that used to be a car, ready to get it over with, but he stopped in his tracks soon after.

            There was movement. 

            The airbags looked like they were breathing as something moved underneath them. They separated from each other and something peeked out from the gap. A head. Higuruma watched as the driver pulled themselves from the wreck, squeezing through the crushed metal to escape. 

            “Help!” They screamed as they limped into the middle of the street.

            Higuruma stood there, frozen in place. Something wasn’t right. He looked down at his own form, for the first time feeling something he hadn’t felt in quite literally forever – confusion. He questioned why he’d appeared there that night, never having appeared when he wasn’t needed. But, most of all, he questioned… you.

            He had seen people pass away from much less, but there you stood, full of life after crashing straight into a brick wall. Higuruma hated questions. He hated the feeling of something being incomplete. He saw the world as black and white, right or wrong. It was why he was so good at his job. Death had no grey area – you were either alive or dead. 

            You were an anomaly.

            You had cheated death.

            Higuruma never left any questions unanswered. Before he’d became what he was now, when he was merely a human, he had been a defense attorney. He’d prided himself in defending those who were unjustly convicted, going out of his way to take on cases that other attorneys wouldn’t dare touch. It wasn’t because he necessarily cared about doing the “right” thing. No, it was because, in his eyes, just like death, the law was black and white. Either you did the crime, or you didn’t. Either you were guilty, or you weren’t. People who were in prison for crimes they didn’t commit were imbalances in a world that Higuruma needed to be balanced. He supposed this mindset followed him to his otherworldly state.

            If it hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have been following you now.

            The three months between then and now had infiltrated Higuruma’s mind in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not anymore. His days were still full of the usual reapings – he would never let anything come between his job. But, when he caught the incredibly rare millisecond where no one in the world dies, he would spend that millisecond peeking into the window that was your life. 

            He’d caught you in the hospital, checking up on your ankle that you had fractured in the crash. He’d caught you celebrating your friend’s birthday. He’d even caught you fresh out the shower once, though he’d felt embarrassed, something he hadn’t felt in millenniums.

            You made him feel a lot of things, perplexed being the overwhelming feeling from the list.

            Why you?  

            The question ran through his head every time he caught a glimpse of you. Had the universe sent you to as a cruel joke? Higuruma tensed every time he thought about it. You were just a loose end, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. 

            He had a habit of tying loose ends, so he made the ultimate decision on a Saturday night. 

            He hadn’t been in his physical form in a long time, if ever. He wore the same suit and carried the same suitcase, but he wasn’t just a spectator anymore. Humans glanced at him as he walked down the crowded sidewalk, making his way to the bar on 4th Ave. He knew he was breaking some sort of rule, but he needed to scratch the itch.

            Higuruma scanned the faces in the bar on 4th, cursing at how crowded it was. He knew you were in there, but his physical form had its restrictions. He made his way through the crowd of people until he finally reached the bar, where you sat.

            You had on a skintight, black dress and black pumps, sipping on a martini and looking bored out of your mind. It was like you had waited for him. He took the empty seat beside you, immediately catching your attention.

            You eyed him up and down, focusing on the suitcase that he brought along with him. “Businessman?”

            “Hmph. I guess you could say that.” Higuruma ordered a drink. Whiskey, neat. Alcohol had no effect on him, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t miss the taste of a nice drink.

            You smile at his response. He figured you were already a bit tipsy when he eyed the two empty martini glasses next to your half full one. “I don’t know. You have a very strict, no-nonsense thing going on. I don’t know anyone that wears a suit at a bar.”

            He remembered another thing about humans in that moment – they were very judgmental.

            “Just had a long day at work, that’s all.” Was his simple response. 

            “Let me guess. CEO?”

            He shook his head.

            “Lawyer? No, attorney?”

            “More like a… judge.”

            You giggle at that. “You look pretty young to be a judge.”

            He smirks. “I’m older than I look.”

            The rest of the night passed in a blur. As much as you had invested yourself in the conversation, Higuruma hadn’t allowed himself that pleasure. It felt more like an assignment than a pleasant conversation between two strangers. Throughout the night, he’d taken to trying to figure you out. It wasn’t like he had expected you to admit that you were some sort of immortal demon that was sent to trick him, but it would’ve eased his mind a bit, admittedly. Instead, you were just like every other human he’d ever seen. 

            Higuruma never took to believing in luck, not even when he was human. Luck allowed too much room for oddities, too much room for things that just didn’t make sense. But, as he sat in the bar with you, he realized he would be forced to question whether such a nonsensical thing existed.

            You weren’t only an anomaly. You were also incredibly lucky.

            Lucky enough to convince Higuruma to come home with you.

            He knew humans had… desires. He’d seen a lot of them put their desires before anything else, leading to stupid decisions. Even back when he was human, he remembered having his own. He would bring women back to his penthouse, fulfilling every desire he had before kicking them out the next morning. It wasn’t the right thing to do, but he was a busy man. You were no different.

            As soon as the two of you entered your apartment, you were on him. 

            You smashed your lips against his and Higuruma returned the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. The sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss and the bitter taste of liquor on your tongue created an intoxicating combination, making Higuruma kiss you even harder. His hands slide down and cup your ass, and he curses the leather dress that acts as a barrier between him and your soft skin. He feels you begin to work on undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white button up before he helps you rid him of his layers. He, then, unzips the back of your dress and it falls to the ground.

            You stand before him, completely nude and vulnerable. He admires every dip and curve of your body, taking note of every single detail so he could remember it for the next few centuries. You were breathtaking.

            You grabbed his hand and led him to the couch, making him sit. Higuruma watched as you kneeled before him and began to unbuckle his belt. You reach into his dress pants and pull out his dick, your eyes widening at the size. He knew he’d been blessed in that department, but seeing a human reaction to it made his pride swell. You take it in your grasp and place a kiss on the tip, a string of precum connecting your lips to him. Your lips then wrap around it, lightly sucking. Higuruma threw his head back against the cushion and let out a relieved sigh. He groans as you start to suck on his length, bobbing up and down. You were slow and meticulous in your actions, staring up at him through thick lashes and gauging exactly what he liked. He appreciated your attention to detail. He squirms when you deepthroat him, your throat pulsing around him and engulfing him in wetness. Fuck, you were good at this. He didn’t know if he felt powerful or powerless. This had been the first time in centuries he’d had any contact with a human, and here you were, making him feel so good. Higuruma can feel himself coming close to release, but you pull away at the last second.

            He’s irritated until you straddle him, lining his dick up with your entrance. You rub his tip on your clit a few times, letting out a light moan at the sensation, before you finally slide down on it. With you wrapped around his so tight, Higuruma is breathless. He placed his strong hands on your hips, encouraging you to move. You ride him slowly at first, grinding down on him. He stretched you out so good, hitting every spot inside of you. Your moans are music to his ears and he feels himself grow addicted to the sight of you fucking yourself on him. His moans mix in with yours, and he grips you tighter before helping you bounce on him. He moves you up and down faster, and you let out a sharp cry as he hits your g-spot. He’s forgotten how sensitive and fragile humans were. In that moment, he felt like he had the upper hand, guiding your every movement. He repositions himself so he can thrust up into you and his hands cradle your thighs, providing support. He fucks you from underneath, and you go crazy.

            “Ah! Right there!” Your eyes are squeezed closed, relishing in the pleasure. Your body shakes above him as you come undone, a string of incohesive words spilling from your mouth. Higuruma continues to drill into you, watching as you leave a ring of cum around the base of his dick. When your orgasm washes away, your knees grow weak and Higuruma holds you to stop you from collapsing. He flips you over, laying you flat on your back against the couch cushions and he hovers over you, spreading your legs and sliding back into you.

            You gasp as he fucks you into the cushions, not even bothering to hold back. He throws your legs over his broad shoulders, angling himself deeper in you. He fucks you relentlessly, your moans spurring him on more and more. He has your ankles by his head, and he turns to place a kiss on the ankle you had fractured in the car crash. You cum again, thrashing against the cushions. Higuruma attempts to hold you still as he feels his own release coming. He thrusts until he finally pulls out and spurts his hot cum across your torso, long strings of white painting your perfect body. A low moan erupts from him as he rides his high. He was disappointed that he couldn’t come inside you – not that he physically couldn’t, but he didn’t know what the repercussions would be if he did that with a human. He didn’t mind risks, but not that type of risk.

            Higuruma helped you off the couch and he helped get you settled for the night. He ran you some bath water and watched as you slinked off to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. It was uncharacteristically warm of him, but he figured it was the least he could do. He got himself dressed and grabbed his suitcase before he left your apartment. 

            6 months later, Higuruma appeared at a scene. He was in the middle of a hallway, standing at a door. Apartment 244. He doesn’t immediately recognize the place, but he knows he’s needed there. He comes through the door, stepping into the living room. Only then does a wave of realization hit him.

            He remembered the couch. He remembered the colorful decorations you had hung up on your walls in an attempt to make the bland apartment seem more lively. He even remembered the sweet smell in the air from the candles you liked to burn. However, it wasn’t the same anymore.

            Drawers were pulled out and objects littered the floor. The couch cushions had been flipped over. Chairs were overturned. And was that…? Higuruma looked at the large, red stain on the carpet, then his eyes travelled to the trail of red splatters that led into the kitchen. He followed the red until finally, he saw you. There you were, laying on the tile floor.

            A home invasion gone wrong.

            He had seen countless but seeing you on the floor was an entirely different experience. He’d talked to you, touched you, tasted you, and there you were, another soul to collect. He cleared his throat and made his way toward you. Business was still business. He placed a hand on yours, both of your skin equally as cold, and he reaped your soul. A white aura surrounded your body, engulfing you like you were sitting in a bed of clouds. Then, that aura split from your body and turned into a bright orb, floating in the air. Higuruma opened his suitcase, looking at the various colored orbs that rested inside of it. He gathered your orb in his hands and guided it inside the case, placing your soul amongst the others. He closed and locked his suitcase before making his way out of your apartment, but not without glancing back at your lifeless corpse.

            Humans were such mortal creatures.

[girlsdressingrooms]

Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024) 

Ms. Apfel was one of the most vivacious personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design, she has cultivated a personal style that is both witty and exuberantly idiosyncratic.

Her originality was typically revealed in her mixing of high and low fashions—Dior haute couture with flea market finds, nineteenth-century ecclesiastical vestments with Dolce & Gabbana lizard trousers.

With remarkable panache and discernment, she combines colors, textures, and patterns without regard to period, provenance, and, ultimately, aesthetic conventions. Paradoxically, her richly layered combinations—even at their most extreme and baroque—project a boldly graphic modernity.

Iris Barrel was born on Aug. 29, 1921, in Astoria, Queens, the only child of Samuel Barrel, who owned a glass and mirror business, and his Russian-born wife, Sadye, who owned a fashion boutique.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women's Wear Daily, and for interior designer Elinor Johnson, decorating apartments for resale and honing her talent for sourcing rare items before opening her own design firm. She was also an assistant to illustrator Robert Goodman.

As a distinguished collector and authority on antique fabrics, Iris Apfel has consulted on numerous restoration projects that include work at the White House that spanned nine presidencies from Harry Truman to Bill Clinton.

Along with her husband, Carl, she founded Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company and ran it until they retired in 1992. The Apfels specialized in the reproduction of fabrics from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, and traveled to Europe twice a year in search of textiles they could not source in the United States.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute assembled 82 ensembles and 300 accessories from her personal collection in 2005 in a show about her called “Rara Avis”.

Almost overnight, Ms. Apfel became an international celebrity of pop fashion.

Ms. Apfel was seen in a television commercial for the French car DS 3, became the face of the Australian fashion brand Blue Illusion, and began a collaboration with the start-up WiseWear. A year later, Mattel created a one-of-a-kind Barbie doll in her image. Last year, she appeared in a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London.

Six years after the Met show she started her fashion line "Rara Avis" with the Home Shopping Network.

She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant, then signed to IMG in 2019 as a model at age 97.

Ms. Iris Apfel became a visiting professor at the University of Texas at Austin in its Division of Textiles and Apparel, teaching about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

 In 2018, she published “Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon,” an autobiographical collection of musings, anecdotes and observations on life and style. 

Ms. Apfel’s apartments in New York and Palm Beach were full of furnishings and tchotchkes that might have come from a Luis Buñuel film: porcelain cats, plush toys, statuary, ornate vases, gilt mirrors, fake fruit, stuffed parrots, paintings by Velázquez and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a mannequin on an ostrich.

The Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History in Boynton Beach, Florida, is designing a building that will house a dedicated gallery of Ms. Apfel's clothes, accessories, and furnishings.

Ms. Apfel’s work had a universal quality, It’s was a trend.

Rest in Power !

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Epilogue

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff, smut, unprotected p in v (they're in a committed relationship). Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: This tale has come to its nautical end, docking in the harbor of happily ever after for these two. I was stuck for a long while on quite how to finish this off and I'm relieved to have finally done it. Hope you enjoy and thank you for coming along on this high seas adventure with me!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Three months after the season ended, you pulled into a half-moon driveway, in front of a beautifully landscaped two-story home on three acres of land in the outskirts of Austin with every possession you owned tightly packed into your ride. You and Joel spent a lot of time together after the season ended, making certain that what you shared was much more than just a boat-mance. It didn’t take long to confirm that neither of you had any doubts left – what you had was as real as it got.

The Millers and Ellie were at the door and running down the porch steps to greet you before the car even stopped moving. The four of you shared deliriously happy grins as you got out of the car after the long drive from Florida.

“You made it!” Sarah greeted, throwing her lanky arms around your neck for a long hug. Ellie quickly followed suit, throwing her arms around your waist. Joel met your gaze, his chocolate eyes full of love and warmth at the sight of his favorite people so happy to see each other.

Breaking free from the young women, you turned to embrace Joel. His broad frame wrapped around you in a bear hug, squeezing just enough without hurting you. The scruff along his jaw gently scratched against your neck and cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Mmm, I missed you,” he breathed in your ear, the little puffs of air tickling the sensitive skin.

“I was only gone a week,” you laughed in response.

“Don’t care. It was too long, and I missed you.” Stepping back, Joel brushed his pouty lips against yours in a chaste kiss as the girls groaned teasingly. “Come on, let’s unload this mess so you can finally settle in and relax. Welcome to your new home, baby.”

It took only an hour to have you officially moved in with Joel and Sarah. Living the nomad lifestyle for the past several years had its benefits when it came to moving – you sold most everything that wasn’t a necessity or held some kind of sentimental value – and you were settled right into their home and lives without too much fuss.

After putting your things away – Joel cleared out half the space of the large walk-in closet and made other space throughout the home for your belongings – you settled for grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge knowing you’d fall asleep if you sat down.

The beer went down smoothly, soothing the dryness of your throat as well as the achiness in your bones from driving for so long. Joel leant back against the kitchen island, chocolate eyes drinking you in from head to toe like a man dying of thirst. A flash of heat swept through you, settling in your cheeks and ears. It had only been a week since you’d seen him, but the ache for him pulsed as if it’d been months.

“We’re heading to San Antonio, Dad!” Sarah called, tripping down the stairs with a small tote. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs to find you and Joel staring at each other, she shared a knowing look with Ellie. “Yeah, we’re gonna give you two a few days to get through the honeymoon phase. Glad you’re hear, Brit! See ya!”

Grinning broadly, Ellie added, “Don’t burn down the house and use protection, kids!” The young women were out the door, giggling madly, before either of you could respond.

The moment the door closed behind them, Joel pounced.

His need for you so great, he didn’t bother leading you upstairs to your newly shared bedroom. Instead, he took you right there in the kitchen, your body pressed forward over the counter as he practically ripped your shorts and panties down your hips. His own quickly followed, tee shirt coming off as well so it wouldn’t get in the way. Hand pressed into your lower back, Joel leant back, spit into his other hand to lube himself up, and watched as his hardened length sunk into your depths with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, sweetheart. How does that feel?”

Hips thrusting against your backside, thick cock going so deep and hitting just the right spots at this angle, you mewled in response. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure even as the counter’s edge dug into your skin painfully with each hard stroke.

“Use your words, baby. I missed your voice just as much as I missed those sweet little sounds you make.”

You twisted your torso a little to look at Joel over your shoulder. Holy hell, did he make the sexiest sight. A sheen of sweat already built up along his forehead, curls falling forward to stick to the damp skin with each movement. His face a mix of concentration and overwhelming pleasure as he stared back at you.

“Feels so fucking good, Joel. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

It didn’t take long for Joel’s thrusts to become sloppy, his need after a week apart left him teetering on the edge in short order. His body and mind had become so acquainted with yours so quickly that time apart was nearly unbearable. Bending over you, he murmured filthy things in your ear, causing a line of gooseflesh to rise along your skin, each word like a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit.

Within minutes, you came with a drawn-out shout of his name, taking advantage of the empty house to be as loud as you wanted. Joel worked you through it until the aftershocks became too much for him and he spilled inside you, your name a falling in an overstimulated whimper from his lips.

The pair of you stayed perched over the counter for several minutes, allowing your breaths and heart rates to return to normal as Joel’s cock remained inside you. When he finally softened and slipped out of your wrecked pussy, he stepped back and helped you stand upright on shaky legs.

Body trembling from the heady mix of exhaustion and the lingering effects of a mind-blowing orgasm, you let Joel lead you upstairs, your shorts and panties left forgotten on the kitchen floor. He tucked you into the bed you now shared – your mind still stuck on the fact that you now lived together – and climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you so you could nap securely in his embrace.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into months as you adapted to Joel’s off-season routine and developed your own rhythm in this new life you shared with him. Ellie and Sarah would come and go as they pleased, spending time with friends and taking online courses to complete their undergraduate degrees, leaving the two of you on your own with the occasional visit from Tommy.

Much of your time in those first few months were spent learning the ins and outs of captaincy with Joel’s guidance. His home office contained a plethora of resources for you to read and review and he would quiz you on different aspects of the job. You were well on your way to being ready for the captain’s exam by the time you enrolled in a training course, which you took while Joel worked a few contracting side jobs.

Before you both knew it, another yachting season arrived, and you were back on a boat with your favorite people. Navigating an established relationship with the captain was a completely different adventure as the two of you figured out how to keep it professional yet still have time together. Needless to say, you stayed in Joel’s quarters most nights despite technically having your own assigned bunk with Tess again.

For the first time in longer than you could remember, you woke up happy everyday and faced your beautiful live with the gratitude it deserved. You were blessed to have the love of a wonderful man, a fascinating career, and the best friends a girl could ask for.

Life was good, really fucking good.

fin

[jennaispunk]

Like the Rain

Summary: Frankie has something to say....will you listen?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count:2.9k

Rating: M

Warnings/Tags: fluff, spice (I won't call it smut. I will leave the smut to all you wonderful people who write it so much better than I ever could), oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up), unresolved feelings, idiots in love, maybe a hint of angst. This is slightly AU: Frankie has a baby but the lady is long gone. Reader has hair long enough to stick to her face and is shorter than Frankie but no other physical description is given. Yes, I gave my darling Francisco a middle name (sorry not sorry). If I forgot anything please let me know.

A/N: This fic was supposed to be for @guiltyasdave 1.5k follower celebration but life (among other things) got in the way and it took me forever to finish this (I'm so sorry Jana!). My prompt was Frankie and kisses in the rain. This fic put me through the ringer and I hope y'all enjoy it.

Thank you: @fallingforthearch for listening to me scream and cry about this fic. @sawymredfox for being my sounding board and calming my fears about certain parts of this fic ILY bestie!!!. @pascalispretty for looking over the final product for me.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Frankie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his truck, beating out an uneven rhythm matching his impatience. He’d been parked outside your house for the last thirty minutes, waiting for you to get home from work. He knew he shouldn’t be here; you’d all but asked him for space, but he couldn’t do that. The last three days had been torture, not being able to talk to you or touch you. He should have just gone straight home after work, showered, and thought this through. His heart had won out over his mind in the end, and now he waited.

The radio weather report droned on in the background, warning of the thunderstorms entering the area. The dark grey clouds looming in the distance matched his mood. He’d been so stupid. He should have just been honest about how he felt, and this wouldn’t be happening right now. Instead, he’d let his fear of not being good enough for you win out over how much he loved you.  

Thunder rolled softly in the distance, almost like a deep laughter mocking him.  Would you even talk to him? Would you even let him tell you how incredibly sorry he was for hurting you? His stomach flipped as your car finally pulled into your driveway. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the courage to face you and speak his truth. 

Today had been a long day for you and you didn’t even notice Frankie’s truck parked in the road in front of your house. Your eyes flicked skyward as the shadow of the clouds crossed over you. It had been hot and dry for weeks, with barely a cloud to mar the brilliant blue of the Florida skies. The precipitation was long overdue. Even with your diligent watering, the lawn was taking on the hue of a sickly Victorian child, and the sparse vegetation lining the front of your little home was left looking a little pitiful. You took a deep breath, taking the sweet, pungent aroma into your lungs. All you wanted was to shower, curl up on the couch, and lose yourself in wine and a good book while the storms washed away your pain.

You hadn’t meant to confess your love like you did. It wasn’t supposed to be blurted out in the heat of the moment. You’d wanted to wait for the perfect time, for the moment when everything was just right. But your mouth got ahead of your brain, and before you knew it, the words ‘I love you’ slipped from your lips, and everything changed. 

You couldn’t forget the look on his face when you uttered those three little words. It was like the entire world had stopped spinning on its axis. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you, dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape like you were speaking Wookie. Your heart sank like a stone to the bottom of a lake.  Tears pricked at your eyes like a thousand tiny needles, and you ran from his apartment before he could see them fall. 

You thought he felt the same way about you, but he didn't say it back. It hurt worse than anything you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t get away fast enough. You’d spend the last few days wondering what you’d done wrong, how you’d misread everything.

“Hey!” Frankie called out as he jogged up the path.

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his voice. It was the last one you expected to hear. You take a deep breath before turning around to face him. 

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” You ask flatly but the break in your voice gives you away.

He swallowed hard, his brown puppy dog eyes staring back at you. His lips twitch in that familiar way; the way they always do when he was working up the nerve to say something or when he was really concentrating, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

“I….I was hoping we could talk…. about the other night.”

 You scoffed lightly. That’s all you’ve thought about since it happened. That scene replayed in your head on an endless loop like a song stuck on repeat.

Your teeth ground together; the muscles of your jaw strained with the effort. “I’m not sure what else there is to say about it…. I told you that I loved you, and you couldn’t say it back. I think that says it all.”

Tears start to sting at your eyes, and you quickly turned away. The last thing you need right now is for him to see you cry. 

“Junebug, please.” 

He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Watching you hide your tears from him broke his heart. He’d sworn he would never make you cry, and here he was doing it once again.

“Say what you need to say, Frankie.”

 You kept your back to him. You couldn’t bear to look at him. Your teeth clamp down on the inside of your cheek.

“Can you at least look at me?” He pleaded. He needed you to listen, to let him tell you why he did what he did.

That moment was permanently seared into his brain. He would never forget the way your face fell when he didn’t respond to you. He wanted to say it back. God, he wanted to say it more than anything. He even practiced how he would say those words to you at the perfect moment in his bathroom mirror.

 You were the best thing that ever happened to him. He was at his lowest when you met. You were like a ray of sunshine when all he saw were dark clouds. You’d made him feel good again, like he wasn’t a failure. But he couldn’t make himself say it. He was shocked into silence because he didn’t think that you were there yet, and your sudden confession had caught him off guard. All those fears of being a failure had stolen his voice and he watched you run out of his life. He’d been a mess ever since. 

You hugged yourself tightly and reluctantly turned around. Your eyes glanced up at the sky, watching the mass of grey clouds inching ever closer.

Frankie lifted his hat and dragged his hand through his hair. His chest rose and fell in an uneven pattern, and he licked his lips. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He had to get the words out.

“I’m sorry about what happened.” He told you. “I never meant to hurt you; I swear. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“Well, you did!”

The tears you were trying so hard to hold inside were threatening to fall and you swallowed hard, clamping your eyes closed.

Frankie’s hand jutted out to grab yours, but he stopped just short of touching you. Maybe now wasn’t the best time. He sighed heavily and pushed his cap up, smoothing his hair before replacing it. The pained look in his eyes said it all. He knew he was an idiot. He just couldn’t say what you needed to hear.

“Babe…. I’m sorry I couldn’t say the words. I was scared.”

Your eyes snapped open. The crease between your brows deepening.

“Scared….” You asked softly. “Scared of what?”

The toe of his work boot scuffed the cement sidewalk as the thunder rumbled in the distance. His eyes darkened as his past mistakes ran through his mind….. South America….the drugs…Marisa and his little girl. He’d messed up so many things in his life.

“I’m not good enough for you.” He murmured. “You deserve so much better than me.”

Your eyes went wide. That’s what this was all about? You knew about his past but hadn’t realized how deeply it affected him.  Now you could see how much he’d kept it inside.

“Francisco José Morales! How can you even to think that?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you studied him.

“You are the best man I know. You’re sweet and kind. You treat me like a princess. How could I possibly do better than that?”

A crooked grin broke out on his face. Why was it that you always knew what to say? You always had a knack for bringing him out of his darkness.

Rain drops began falling, peppering the cement with little dark splotches. Goosebumps prickled your skin as the cool drops ran down your face.

“I love you….so damn much. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

 The ache in voice was palpable as the rain picked up steam, cold and wet as it soaked you both.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you. Your body pressed against him, and you crushed your lips to his. You kissed him hard, with all the love you had. You needed him to understand that he was all you ever wanted…you couldn’t live your life without him.

He stood frozen for a moment.  That was the last thing he expected you to do. His shock was quickly forgotten as his body responded, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer and kissing you back with equal intensity.

Your mouths mashed together, teeth clacking, both desperately trying to devour each other. His fingers tangled in your soaked hair, gripping it tightly and keeping your mouth pressed against his. 

You moaned into his mouth as his other hand grabbed a handful of your ass, pulling you tightly against the growing bulge in his khakis.

You were both oblivious to the rain pouring down on you, desperately groping and kissing each other like two horny teenagers in plain view of your neighbors.

The deafening crack of thunder combined with the bright flash of lightning was the only thing strong enough to separate you.

You both stared at each other, panting, the rain dripping off your lashes and the bill of Frankie’s ever present Standard Oil trucker hat.

“We…should go inside…” you murmured.

Frankie was on you once again when the door closed behind you. His soft tongue slid between your lips; his large hands worked at the buttons of your soaked blouse.

You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward your bedroom. Your limbs tangled as you both fight to get the other’s wet clothing off, bumping into walls and bumping heads. 

Frankie tripped as he struggled to get his pants off. You giggled as he hopped on one leg and his shoulder banged into the hallway wall with a loud thud.

“You think that’s funny, Junebug? Just wait 'til I get you on that bed.”

You both fell into bed together, your wet hair soaking your sheets. Frankie descended on you, the weight of him pressing you firmly into the mattress.

He just stared down at you for a moment like he was trying to memorize your features. He smoothed the damp hair that had been stuck to your face as he lowered his face to yours, taking your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

His mouth worked against yours slowly, his tongue parting your lips to let him in. His tongue filled your mouth with slow, languid thrusts.

His hands snaked down your naked body toward your panties and his mouth followed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your chin, down your neck and over the slope of your breasts. He stopped for a moment, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue around the sensitive nub until it became a stiffened peak. You arched your back into him as he lavished the same attention to your other nipple. The ache between your legs grew stronger and you felt the desire pooling there, soaking your panties.

A low chuckle escaped Frankie’s lips as his mouth continued to move lower, hooking his fingers into your panties and tugging them down to bare you to him completely.

“Hermosa.” His voice was hushed, floating to your ears like the sweetest song.

God, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. To him, there wasn’t a more perfect creature in this world. His heart hammered in his chest as he wondered what he ever did to deserve you. You’d been by his side through everything. You’d seen him at his best and at his worst.

 His eyes trailed down the curve of your breasts, down to the apex of your thighs, to the treasure that awaited him there that was reserved for only him. He dipped his head between your thighs, and he ate you like a man savoring his last meal. There was no time for teasing today, he had to show you just how much he loved you.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth. His lips and tongue moved in tandem, a rhythm he’d perfected that would always drive you insane. Your fingers tangled in his damp, brown curls as Frankie’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. A hungry growl from his lips made you buck your hips into him. His tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you cried out his name like a prayer and came on his tongue.

Those gorgeous mocha eyes peered up at you, a satisfied smirk on his lush lips covered in your slick. A trail of sloppy kisses led him back to your mouth, his arm hooking your leg over his elbow; damn near pressing your knee to your chest. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned softly into his mouth, hooking your other leg around his waist.

You would never get tired of hearing the way he groaned softly as he slid his cock inside you. Your walls stretched for him, enveloping him with your warmth. No one could split you open like him.

Frankie pressed his forehead against yours as he found his rhythm. He could live here, inside you. It felt like your body was made just for him, like a key finding its lock.

His hips began to move faster, his thrusts more urgent as you both panted against each others' mouths. He would never get enough of you. The way you felt was like heaven to him, a heaven he didn’t feel like he deserved but he would never let you go again.

No one could ever make you feel as good as Frankie. He knew your body almost better than you did. The tension began to build in your stomach and your legs began to tremble. Frankie’s large hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you down onto him even further, making you mewl loudly and arch your back into him.

He knew exactly what this meant. You were close, and he was going to get you there. His thrusts became sloppier, but I less powerful, still hitting the spot that only he could reach.

“Come on, querida.” He pants, almost desperately. The bed creaked as he pounded into you.

  “Dámelo….dámelo…..please…one more…I want to watch you come.” His eyes are fixed on you, his pupils blown, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Whatever invisible force holding you together suddenly vanished, and you saw white. Your mind is only filled with one thing…him.  You clung to him as your walls fluttered around him, whimpering his name.  He followed you a few thrusts later and spilled into you with a strangled grunt.

Your eyes finally regained focus as you both came down from your high. He looked just as wrecked as you felt…his brown curls were a mess, and his lips parted as he panted.

He pulled you close as he rolled onto his back, resting your head on his chest.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

His voice was rough and breathless. A satisfied hum left your lips as his fingers gently caressed your arm. You knew you would be a little sore in the morning, but it was worth it to have him in your bed again.

“Yeah. I’m okay, baby.”

A comfortable silence filled the room as you listened to the sounds of your breathing mixed with the patter of rain against your bedroom window. Your eyes closed as the gentle thrum of Frankie’s heart pulsed against your cheek. This is what you always wanted. This is where you were meant to be. You were content to lay here forever…until you saw his soaked khakis in a heap in your bedroom doorway.

“I’ll be right back.” You disentangled yourself from his arms, but his hand flew out to stop you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his brow arched, and a hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your head swiveled around to look at him with a crooked grin.

“Our clothes are soaked. I was going to throw them in the dryer.”

His eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe you were worried about the clothes. You weren’t going to need them any time soon, not if he could help it.

“Don’t worry about the clothes, Junebug. They can wait.”

Of course, the clothes could wait. They weren’t important, but it wasn’t in your nature to not worry about the little things.

His chest tightened as you crawled back into his arms. The feeling of completeness washed over him like the rain pouring outside.

Maybe it was an omen that it finally started to rain after all these weeks of drought. Maybe the rain was the universe’s way of washing away the hurt and past mistakes, making way for growth and a new beginning for you both. This was a chance to begin again, and he was going to spend every day making sure he didn’t blow it. He was going to give you the life you deserved.

[channieskies]

𝕴𝕴: 𝕲𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader, Jeong(Jung) Jaehyun x Reader (Fem/AFAB/Curvy/Plus sized)

Genre: Smut (eventual), Angst, Supernatural Romance, Urban Fantasy

AU: Supernatural AU, Vampire Au, Werewolf AU, Witch AU

Word count: 8058 [Reading time: 33 Minutes ]

Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society

Synopsis: Strange events keep piling up. There is something going on in this town that you are just starting to see.

CHAPTER INDEX

“Chris…” You paused, eyes focusing on the purple and pink hue that washed over the trees in the distance before you looked in his eyes to show your sincerity. “I can’t apologize enough. I shouldn’t have abandoned you. Who does that to their best friend? Especially when they have been through everything together.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, without even thinking about it. “I promise I will make it up to you. I promise I won’t be the biggest dick in Louisiana and leave you again. That wasn’t fair to you, I know that.” You played with his fingers, drawing patterns absentmindedly on the red tinted skin on his knuckles, your attention now on his skin. “I’ll be a better friend. I promise you this.” You looked up, catching him staring at you. He smiled, his lopsided dimples doing what they usually did, making you smile with him.

A.N: Please reblog and leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to @palindrome969 and @therhythmafterthesummer for reading over this for me. I could never thank you enough. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids or NCT. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. This chapter contains use of explicit language.

Home. That's all it was. There was no sweet home to follow it up, because you hadn't left it that way. If anything, you left this place like you'd robbed a grave: disturbed and desecrated. Along with your belongings, you took the bad juju of committing such a brazen and criminal act. You'd left your mother, your friends, your life, and career all for a man. A good for nothing one at that. Your mother had always told you that you had to be careful of the choices you make, you never know where they might have you end up. Yours culminated in you ending up sitting in your beat up car, across the street from your mother's brightly colored shotgun-style house in the uptown district of New Orleans. Her porch was decorated with a plethora of wild yet beautiful flowers and a few colorful chairs. It was inviting, just as it had always been. This was the home that had been in your family for generations, passed down from mother to daughter since 1839. It was lived in and warm, quite possibly the most comfortable place in the world. A safe haven.

Your great-great-great maternal grandmother, Abigail, was the first of your people to make something of herself. She didn't have much of an education, but she was a talented seamstress and hairdresser, making a name for herself across three different states. She passed it to her only daughter and so on and so forth. Your mother swore that within the next few years, she was retiring from nursing and moving to Florida. You don't know why, but she swears she's going to find a good man and settle down there. But you know her best, and she is too much of a free spirit to stay in one place. That's why she's constantly traveling, taking her nursing job around the country and sometimes out of it as well, even if she was never gone long.

You picked and bit at your nails, the one nervous habit you wish you could have kicked with your nicotine addiction, but you'd take it if it meant never smoking again. You felt unnerved. It was weird, it wasn't like this was someplace fancy, it was just your moms house. Your childhood home. You could see the warm amber lighting coming through the window, indicating that she was home, but for the life of you, you couldn't get your ass out of the car. God, how you wish you could smoke and rid yourself of this stupid anxious feeling that had you tied to your seat like a locked seatbelt. Would she be disappointed in you? You failed as a daughter, on multiple accounts. You just couldn’t seem to get life right.

Your own mother had struggled with juggling a full-time job and a child, planting down roots in this city when she knew the wind was calling her name. According to her, she had been compelled by the spirits of your ancestors to have you, persuaded that it was finally the right time to settle into motherhood. But she was a bird, not something stagnant and never changing like a tree; she was meant to fly but instead had to put down roots. Having you forced her to give up on the life she wanted to have and acquiesce to domesticity. She'd sacrificed the things she'd liked just so you could afford the ballet lessons you begged to take for a few months before quitting. Same with the piano and singing lessons, as well as the haughty toighty summer camp she sent you to, all so you could study music theory. When you were accepted at Tulane University, she probably expected you to be like any other college student. You know, wrack up a bunch of debt and slowly pay it off while doing the job you went to school for. It probably wasn't in her plans to get a call from you, telling her you were pregnant in the middle of your junior year,  dropping out.

You bet she wasn't expecting to have to pay for your therapy after you lost the baby either. You know it had to have been a downward spiral of bad news when you told her you weren’t going back to school, years of education and sacrifice be damned. You’re certain it hurt when you left town one night and didn't look back- the loud knock on your window pulled you from lamenting on your sub-mediocre life choices. You jumped, grabbing your heart to make sure it didn't make a run for it. “Mom?!?”  You grabbed the hand crank to roll down your window, just enough to hear what she had to say.

The first thing she said was your full name loudly, “Why the hell are you sitting in the damn car, across the street from the house like a stalking lunatic? Get in the house!” She sighed, and mumbled something else under her breath as she crossed the street in haste. “I'm sorry y'all. You know that girl has no damn sense. I swear she gets that from her father.” You hadn't noticed, but there were witnesses to your car breakdown, the elderly couple next door and the nosy woman across the street. She'd snitched on you plenty of times before, why would this time be any different?

Chris hadn’t lied when said your house hadn't changed. It was indeed the same nostalgic little time capsule it was the last time you visited. You didn't bother with your boxes, entirely too tired to move the front seat and retrieve them from the back. That was a problem for the you of tomorrow. You still had clothes in your old room and could always bum toiletries off your mom, she wouldn’t mind. “What are you visiting your old mother for now?” She asked, taking a seat on her sofa. The tv was on mute, playing some old black and white reruns. You could tell she just finished her batch of cookies for the children's ward at the hospital, the house smelled of her delicately spiced chocolate chip cookies. They were a hit amongst kids and adults alike.

“I.. need a place to stay.” You didn't hesitate to say what you needed. It was her motto that was drilled into your head after all, ‘Closed mouths don't get fed’. You fidgeted with the keychain in your hands, you needed something to keep your hands and mind busy. She started for a moment only to nod, indicating to you that you could stay. “It will be for a while. U-until I find a job at least.” She nodded again, not even bothering to ask why or what happened. She was understanding like that. You tried not to let it show, but you were grateful to be born to a woman like her. She was beyond anything you could have asked or wished for. You knew that not everyone was blessed with a caring and understanding parent, and you were truly thankful that you at the very least, got to experience that from one of yours.

“But- on one condition.” She put up her hand to stop you from going further into the home. You dreaded what she had to say. Last time you stayed here, she had you volunteer at the soup kitchen for three days, saying that you could have been homeless, but she was being nice enough to give you food and shelter. That was during your grandfather's funeral a few months back. You spent time volunteering while you were mourning. Your mother is that type of person. Pay it forward was another one of her mottos. “You go to work with me for a couple hours this weekend. I have a new boss in the children's ward and I would love for him to meet my baby.” She said in a nonchalant way, but you knew she had been talking about you, she always did. Didn’t matter what you were doing or where you went, you would always be her baby and she was proud.

You truthfully didn’t know why you even doubted how she felt. There was never a moment where she wasn’t proud of who you’d become, no matter what mistakes you’ve made in life. Maybe it was just that little anxious and negative voice in the back of your mind that constantly felt the need to remind you that you were undeserving of anything good. Whether it be platonic or amorous, love wasn’t meant for someone like you. You were wholly undeserving, unworthy of it. “Also, take a trip to the family tomb and pay some respect to your elders, they have kept you safe this far and you want them to continue to do so in the future…” She continued to talk about all the things she wanted you to do for the tomb, like sweeping and dusting to make sure they were comfortable in the afterlife. It was something you always thought was a little strange, but who were you to knock the traditions of old southern folk? She’d survived this long for a reason, right?

You could feel the warmth of the sun on your face as you stirred awake the next morning. You had snuggled into your freshly changed sheets last night and honestly, you don’t remember much after that. You rubbed your eyes, opening them slowly only to find another pair staring right back at you. You quickly moved back, maybe too quickly, accidentally tossing yourself off the bed, tangled in the mess of sheets and blankets. Your butt hit the hardwood floors right on your tailbone, causing it to hurt almost immediately. “Ow!” The same eyes peeked over the side of the bed at you, as if checking if you were alright. The tiny meow that came from its mouth was a strong affirmation that the cute little black and white cat with two-toned eyes was asking if you were okay. “Yes, I'm fine. Just a little sore, is all.” You rubbed your butt to try and soothe the dull ache as you moved to your knees to get closer to the cat. “What’s your name? Huh? And why are you in my room?” 

The cat leaned its head down, chin brushing over the name tag. You grabbed at the shiny, round tag, glancing at the cursive little Ella ‘Socks’ Fitzgerald. “Socks? Is that your name? It’s nice to meet you, Socks. I’m Y/N.” It puts a paw forward, showing you its cute little white paw, amongst all the black fur. “How cute are you?” You cautiously reached to pet the cat who did nothing but melt into your touch. You had always wanted a pet, but your mother was very peculiar about it. She’d say that pets were for common people who did common things, we needed more than just a pet. That always struck you as strange. What has changed from then to now? How did Socks come to be in your mothers possession? You could hear your mothers mumbles through the door before she knocked softly.

“Have you seen- ah there she is.” She stepped into your room, gathering up the cat in her arms. “This is the new doctor's cat. He was out of town for a few days and asked me to keep her. She’s cute, right?” You nodded. That explanation made sense, you knew your mother wasn’t one for pets. “So you might see her around every once in a while, whenever he’s out of town. But she's a sweet girl, so don’t be afraid.” She turned as if she was going to leave, but stopped right at the threshold of your dark purple room. “Christopher called. He said to remind you that you owe him a meal. But he said he couldn't make it over to this side of town and would send you the address.” She squinted her eyes as she turned her head towards you. “Don’t you hurt him, you hear me? He’s too pure for this world and he easily gets hurt, even if he does a really good job at hiding it. Just like when you lef-” She stopped herself, a frown forming between her brows. “Just be careful with someone like him. I don’t think he’ll be able to take it if you disappear like that again.”

You tried not to act or look confused. But you sure were. Chris didn’t act any differently towards you yesterday. He didn’t make it seem that you leaving town abruptly like you did last time, was that big of a deal. You were sure it hurt momentarily, hell, it hurt you to leave like you did. But he seemed like he understood your reasons and didn’t hold them against you. He had told you as much at the diner last night. But then again, he and your mother talked more frequently than you and your mother. She had taken it upon herself to adopt him as her own, since his family was a twenty hour plane ride away. She was a nurture, it was in her nature.

There were certain times you felt like you’d have to push your car to your destination. With all the twists and turns and little hills you had to drive through to get to whatever part of the suburbs Christopher lived in, your car was struggling to keep up. You could tell it was overheating. The radio had been on the fritz for over a month now, and now the a/c acted like it wanted to poop out on you. You would rather deal with public transportation than to have no air conditioning with all this hot and humid Louisiana air. Trees lined the streets of the suburbs in far more elegant ways than it did even in the historic garden district. The land surrounding each home seemed to get bigger and bigger the further you went out. Maybe one of Chris’ roommates was rich, because explaining how a teacher could afford this was not computing or connecting inside of your brain. 

You carefully watched the numbers that were painted on the curb as well as the mailboxes and houses. You were lucky to see the numbers on the house in your neighborhood, maybe suburban living was just all together different. “140, 141….143.” You stopped your ancient clunker of a car, pressing hard on the squealing brakes, right in front of the sprawling lawn. It felt like the well manicured greenery went on for miles before your eyes noticed the large house in the background. The rounded driveway led right up to the front walkway of the large center hall colonial home. Call you Dorthy, because you sure weren’t in Kansas anymore. The city was lively, there was always something going on, people always on the streets for something or another. But out here you couldn’t hear anything but nature, and that honestly scared you a little bit. You were used to the noise after years of conditioning yourself for it. Even in St. Martinsville, even though it was a smaller town, you lived off the main thoroughfare in an apartment full of different types of people. It made you feel right at home.

The suburbs offered something completely different than what you were used to. It was almost too picturesque. The trees stood still and tall, painting the grass with little dark dots, making it the only thing that blemished this perfect little picture of suburbia. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Eerie. If anyone asked you. The pretty white siding was accented by the white-washed brick foundation and mossy green shutters and accents. The landscaping added to the top notch curb appeal of this mini-mansion. Now, either Christopher was selling drugs to the parents of the kids he taught or he had run into some major cash since college. Last time you checked, he was still sending money back home to his family, so you doubted he had some random long lost relative that kicked the bucket and transferred beaucoup amounts of cash into his bank account. Yeah, drugs were the only answer. 

You reluctantly pulled your fiesta into the drive, almost afraid it would mar the flawless brick pavers. You came to a halt and you put it in park, sitting there with it still on, wondering if for some reason your old friend was playing a trick on you. That he'd have you travel all this way just to pull a “sike, got you!” out of his ass, while he still lived in the city in the same old run-down apartment. It would be appropriate payback for you cutting ties with him in spite of everything you'd been through. He’d been there for you through the thick of it. He was the one holding your hand in the clinic after you’d taken multiple pregnancy tests to confirm your sneaking suspicions. He was there to comfort you when you lost the baby you had just started getting used to the idea of. He was there when that boyfriend left you high and dry. Chris had been your rock, but you had been nothing to him but the worst friend possible. You didn't let your mind drag you down into the same spiral that it took you on last night in front of your moms house, so you pushed past it. You pulled the keys from the ignition and got out, heading up the drive to the door. You fixed your dress, making sure it wasn’t up in the back or tucked into your panties like that one time in middle school. 

You couldn’t shake this sense of nervousness you had. What the fuck were you nervous for? It was just Chris. In this mini-mansion in the middle of suburbia, with a few roommates that you didn’t know. What if they sniffed out that you were the trash friend you had made yourself out to be? What if they told Chris that you were no good for him and inveigled him not to pursue a relationship with you? Relationship? How did you get there? Friendship. Yeah, that's what you meant. You didn’t get a chance to work out your worrying thoughts as the door swung open. “Hey.” The force of the wind pulled you forward a little, causing you to stumble. Chris’ hand landed on your shoulder, preventing you from falling over the threshold of his home. He chuckled, “Be careful.” How was it possible that you hadn’t even been here a good ten minutes and you’d already managed to make a fool of yourself? Good job!

“H-hey.” Could this welcome mat go ahead and open a portal to where-the-fuck-ever and swallow you whole already? “I-I was just about to knock. How did-” He pointed to the doorbell camera, before you could even finish the question. Now you felt a little foolish on top of embarrassment. “Right..” He laughed and reached for your hand, tugging you inside the house. You fell into him with a soft thud, chin hitting his chest. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and creeping into your system, slowly making its way to your face. He gave you a soft hug before pulling back and letting you breathe. He closed the door with a slight kick of his foot, letting it close with a soft click. 

“Did you have trouble finding it?” He queried, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as if he was nervous. You glanced at him, taking in the casualness of his outfit. It was somewhere between boyfriend and I might sell drugs to pay for this unnecessarily big house. Dark almost black denim pants, paired with a simple black t-shirt and a black cardigan with white outlines on it, on top. Simple, yet classic and you appreciate his effort. “I know whenever we invite people out, they have a hard time getting here. It often means we have to go find them and have them follow us here. So, at least you have ‘finding my house on your own’ under your belt. You are one of the few.” You felt like you should have been looking around, taking in the foyer of this massive home, but for some odd reason you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Carefully watching the way his lips moved as he talked. The faint blush that painted his cheeks. How he fidgeted from side to side and couldn’t figure out where to put his hands. He really was nervous. The only time you’d see him like this is when he scored a date. But that wasn’t what this was, right? You’d know if this was a date. Right?

“I didn’t have trouble at all. I mean, besides my car acting like it couldn’t find a fuck to get out here, the trip here went without incident.” You sighed and nodded awkwardly. Don’t think of this as a date. It’s just you and your old best friend hanging out at his home while you cook a meal for him. That's it. But what if it wasn’t just that? Your mind had a way of playing tricks on you, making you believe things were true, even if you had little to no evidence of it being that. “This is a-a nice place you got here. I mean, it looks like it's even nicely decorated.” You were desperately trying not to make things awkward, trying to get your brain to not overthink just this once. 

“Ah- yeah, Felix’s mom decorated the place for us after she visited a few months ago.” He chuckled, taking a look around himself as if your words triggered the memory and not him living in the space. “I didn’t think it was that bad until she brought it up. She just couldn’t understand how we lived in this nice neighborhood, but the inside of the house looked like squatters lived here or a bunch of pups or something...” He paused, eyes fixed on your hand as if he wanted to reach for it once again. “I- um, I should show you around.” He made a noise affirming to himself that what he said was what he was going to do. He finally tore his eyes away from your hand and turned to give you the tour. “I don’t know if you can tell, but no one comes this way.” He chuckled to himself, “That's probably why it's so spotless out here. I guarantee you, the rest of the house looks exactly how you’d expect it to with eight grown men living here.” Eight? When he said roommates, you assumed two or maybe three. But seven other people lived here? With the same man who turned you down everytime you asked him to be your roommate?

“Eight? Christopher….” You poked his shoulder as he led you out of the foyer, past the stairs and into the living room. There were a couple of guys sitting on the large beat up couch, playing video games. There were a few empty bottles and pizza boxes around, like they had a party and didn't bother cleaning up after. You could smell the nice candles they were burning, probably to cover up the smell of man sweat and whatever that wet dog smell was that lingered under the woodsy candle. “You couldn’t live with me but you have seven roommates and a dog? Fuck your allergies, huh?” He seized up for a second, shoulders tensing up.

“Y-you know why, I couldn't room with you. I told you yesterday.” You kissed your teeth, folding your arms over your chest as you leaned your hip against the kitchen counter. You didn't believe that for a second. Chris had a crush on you? Please. He turned to you, giving you an apologetic smile. “I was being truthful when I told you that. I promise. Living with you would have messed up my feelings toward you even more.. than they already are. I couldn't do that… not when you were going through so much. I just…. I thought it would be best to just be there for you from a distance.” There was something about Chris’ eyes that told you if he was being truthful or just saying things in jest. He was telling you the truth. But you didn't want to think of what that implied.

Christopher looked at something beyond you with wide eyes, so you followed his gaze to find the two roommates that were playing games had completely turned to listen to your conversation. “Uh.. Hi!” You waved awkwardly towards the two young looking men. “I'm Y/N, Chris’ friend fro-” You were cut off by the deepest voice you think you'd ever heard. But you were sure it couldn't have come from the face that had its lips moving. You know the look on your face said everything about how shocked you were. Eyes wide, mouth agape. You shook it off as best you could, in order to not be rude.

“Oh, you're the Y/N he talks about all the time? ” His giggles contrasted with his voice drastically. He got up from his spot on the couch to introduce himself properly, his friend trailing behind him to do the same. “It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Felix.” No wonder his mother didn't want him to live in just any old environment. The boy was beautiful. He had a constellation of freckles dusted across his pretty cheeks and his eyes shined bright light diamonds in the night sky. You wouldn't want someone so pretty to live somewhere that didn't equal his beauty either.

“Hyung did say you were pretty.” The other guy spoke up, his voice cracking on his first word like he hadn't spoken all day. “I can usually bet against his judgment, but he was right this time.” Felix nudged him, but you just laughed, thanking him for his sudden compliment. You appreciated the honesty. “I'm Jeongin.” He extended his hand for you to shake as well and you gladly took it. He was adorable, as well as brutally honest and you liked that. You asked what they did for a living and where they were from, spotting an accent on both. Finding out Felix was also from Sydney like your dear friend, and Jeongin had come to America from South Korea for a cultural exchange program for part of highschool and now college. 

They asked you a few questions in return like how exactly you and Chris met and how long had the two of you known each other and you didn't mind answering, you just wondered what exactly Chris had said to them about you. Especially if it wasn't details of how you met. “Alright, I'd like to spend some time with my friend…. alone.” He was pulling things from the refrigerator, setting them up for you. Apparently he couldn't pick you up because he was grabbing things from the local box store to feed his army of roommates. “I want you all to myself for once.” He mumbled the last part but you heard him loud and clear, you just chose not to address it due to this situation already being confusing.

You clear your throat as you wash your hands at the kitchen sink. “Anything in particular you have in mind? What do your roommates want to eat?” He groaned at the mention of his seven other roomies. “I can’t in good conscience just make food for you, Chris. Not when there are other people coming in and out. So, I’ll make a group meal and everyone can have something to eat whenever they feel like.” You started searching the kitchen for utensils and pots that you would need to cook. “Any allergies, besides the one you have when it comes to living with me, that I should know about?” He stuck his tongues in his cheek as he rolled his eyes at you, even with a year apart, he should know you by now. You weren’t going to let this go anytime soon.

“No. No allergies. You know I want your macaroni and cheese. The last time I had some was before you left, so I'm well overdue for a pan.” He picked at the label of one of the spice containers. “I just… I can't ask you to cook for the kids. It's a lot of them and I've already planned to send them out with money to get themselves something to eat for the night. So just don't worry-” You stopped his rambling with a pointed stare. Your hands ceased checking over the ingredients he pulled out to confront him.

“You didn’t ask, and I'm not asking either. Let me cook for you and your friends. It's just one night. It's not like I'm going to become den mother Or something.” You chuckled and shook your head at your own joke, not noticing how your friend stiffened at your words. His ears reddened under the tuft of ear length curls on his head. “Mind being my sous-chef?” He nodded, glad you changed the subject, so he could stop his heart from fluttering about.

It took a few hours, but you, with the help of Chris, put together a full meal. Cheddar jalapeno cornbread, fried catfish, chicken fricassee (for anyone who doesn’t like or eat fish), red beans and rice, macaroni and cheese, stuffed mirlitons, corn and bacon maque choux, and a three bean salad for anyone watching their weight. You would periodically be interrupted, his housemates all floating down to the kitchen one by one to see where the delectable scents were coming from, just to find someone they didn’t know cooking in the biggest gathering place of their home. You met seven different people, with seven distinct personalities that day. Minho, gave you grumpy old man vibes, but he also had a cuteness to him that made you want to pet him like a cat, it was very strange to think about, but the truth nonetheless. You found out that this was a vacation home for Changbin and his family, the third oldest of Chris’ roommates. Why his family was vacationing in the suburbs of New Orleans, you had no idea, but they had to be pretty well off to have several homes in different countries. He was very sweet, but he almost lost a hand when he tried to pinch off your cornbread.

You thought Felix was one of the most beautiful creatures you’d even laid your eyes on, then you met Hyunjin. What kind of beauty distribution was this house blessed with? Every single inhabitant you met here was gorgeous in their own right, Hyunjin took the cake though. You almost chopped off your finger when he walked in, paint stains on his very expensive Celine t-shirt. Who paints in that? You almost got swept up in talks about art and the museums here in Louisiana before Chris rushed him off. You saw Seungmin for a few minutes before he said he had to run off to baseball practice, but the shade he threw at your younger friend, Christopher about his age before he left, left you completely speechless. There was allegedly another person that lived here, but he didn’t come out. Chris said he was a bit introverted and didn’t really talk to new people well. So you took the initiative and made him a plate along with a cup of sweet iced tea, leaving it outside the door that Chris directed you to. You didn’t mind an introvert, you were truthfully one yourself. So, you understood.

By the time you were settled, the sun was starting to set. Chris suggested sitting on the porch to watch the sun blend into the beautiful tree line behind their home. There was a nice cross breeze, thanks to the ceiling fan. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this. It’s one thing to make dinner for you and one other person, but nine? With leftovers?” He chuckled, “That's crazy.” You simply shrugged, it really wasn’t that much of a deal. You volunteered most of your young life, helping in the kitchen and cooking big meals was kind of your thing at this point. “I don’t think I can express how much I’ve missed having you around, Y/N. If it wasn’t for me finding my roommates, I don’t think I would have survived this last year.” Your heart broke for him. You guessed it was true what your mother said before you left, you’d really hurt him. And for what? What happened to bros before hoes? You were a shit friend and you knew that. You’d just have to spend the rest of your life making it up to him in whatever way possible.

“Chris…” You paused, eyes focusing on the purple and pink hue that washed over the trees in the distance before you looked in his eyes to show your sincerity. “I can’t apologize enough. I shouldn’t have abandoned you. Who does that to their best friend? Especially when they have been through everything together.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, without even thinking about it. “I promise I will make it up to you. I promise I won’t be the biggest dick in Louisiana and leave you again. That wasn’t fair to you, I know that.” You played with his fingers, drawing patterns absentmindedly on the red tinted skin on his knuckles, your attention now on his skin. “I’ll be a better friend. I promise you this.” You looked up, catching him staring at you. He smiled, his lopsided dimples doing what they usually did, making you smile with him. He leaned back in his seat, tugging your hand. You knew what that meant, your muscular buff friend wanted to cuddle. You at least owed him that after depriving him of a year's worth of cuddles. Your ex hated how close the two of you were, always complaining about how a man and woman can’t be that close unless one of them has feelings for the other. 

You scooted the patio chair you were occupying back and stood to your feet, making your way over to him and taking purchase of his lap, all while he never let your hand go. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kicking your legs over the armrest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his nose into your neck, taking a big whiff, as if he missed not only the touch of you, but your smell as well. He was affectionate, that was something that just didn't seem to change about him. Even his roommates mentioned his love of cuddles and how apparently no one cuddled him like you. Truthfully, you felt the same about him. That lack of affection in your relationship with your ex didn't dawn on you until you moved away from your hometown. When Chris was out of your life, you finally had time to notice the void he left behind. No sweet words or texts, no hugs or cuddles, no one to go to museums with or to concerts. You were literally alone in your relationship. 

Your ex was harsh and mean, he didn't like to hug or kiss especially in public and he just lacked the same kind of warmth Christopher had. You longed for your friend so bad just after a few weeks of being away, that you took half of the two hour drive back home just to see him, before your ex called you back. The longer time went on the more you adjusted to not being touched or feeling loved. But now that you've gotten it back, gotten him back, you won't let go. His affection is like your life blood. You need it. You laced your fingers into the curls along the nap of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp like he liked. His eyes closed upon contact, melting into you as you melted into him. You were fine like this. This was the epitome of comfort to you. You sat like that for what felt like an eternity, his soft breath tickling your neck. The cool night breeze didn’t bother you while being wrapped in the heat of his arms and chest. 

He sighed, dragging his nose over the side column of your neck, causing goosebumps to prickle all over your skin. A soft gasp left your lips, but you didn’t move away, prompting him to do it again. You tried your best not to moan as his lips ghosted over the same spot. With a particularly long drag of your nails over his scalp it seemed it was his turn to make a noise. It sent a shiver down your spine, it was somewhere trapped between a moan and a growl. You pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet him, eyes already staring back at you, just for them to slide to your lips and back up. Did he want to kiss you? You surely wanted to kiss him. His plump lips were so close to yours, all you had to do was lean in a little. Your body unconsciously moves in closer to his, his fingers releasing their grip on your waist to move to your face, first tucking hair behind your ear before finding their place on your cheek. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, not wanting to be taken out of the moment by words. He pulled you into him, his lips ghosting your yours before settling into a soft kiss. Was this what kissing your best friend felt like? Like smooth jazz in the park on a sunday afternoon. Like watching the sun set on his porch while in his arms? It was comfortable. Everything was always comfortable with him, always had been. But it wasn’t comfortable in the way that would make you feel no heat from it. No, this kiss would be seared into your memory for a lifetime. It's as if time stands still, it's only you and him in the moment. There are no other beings in the universe but the two of you. He pulls away, but only slightly, his mouth still lingers ever so close to yours. “What, Jisung?” You turned your head as he looked over to the door that hadn’t even opened yet. A fluffy haired, chipmunk-esque boy wrapped in a fleece blanket, popped his head out of the french doors.

“Tha-thank you.” His already plump cheeks became even plumper as he smiled. “For the food and the tea.” He nodded again, eyes darting from you to the man whose lap you were taking up space in. “I’m Jisung, by the way.” You smiled at him and his cheeks seemed to heat up. He was adorable. “Okay… bye.” He ducked back inside and scampered off as if you had scared him away. You hadn’t realized that Christopher made a face behind you at the boy, making him run off and back to his room. You turned back to him, bottom lip between your teeth, holding back the smile that was slowly starting to spread on your face.

“So…”

He laughed, “So?” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, eyes searching your face longingly. He looked as if he had so many things to say, but no way of expressing the abstract concepts his heart was painting. You wished you could dive into his mind and help him find every word he was missing, because you wanted to know what his feelings were. Were you alone in the way you felt? Was this wrong? What would happen to your friendship after that heated kiss you shared on his back porch. His nose bumped yours as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, though your lips were so close. They were calling to him, begging for another kiss to confirm if the first one was real or just a dream. He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours, as if it was an attempt to get himself together. To not wish or ask for more from his long lost best friend.

“I…” He pulled back to look into your eyes, hoping that you would say the words that he longed to hear. “I…. should really get going. It’s getting late…” Beg me to stay. Please. You pleaded to him in your mind, hoping he would get the hesitancy in your voice. Hoping he could read between the lines. “And… It's a long drive back to the city.” It wasn’t. Traffic wouldn’t be heavy this time of night on a saturday it was a thirty minute drive, tops. But he didn’t try to stop you. He just nodded, understanding. He was that type of person. Understanding to a fault.

“Do… you want me…to drive you home? I can take a look at your car tomorrow and make sure it's in tip-top shape for you.” His hand moved from your face to rest gently on your thigh, caressing it over the fabric of your dress. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, even with a barrier in-between. You could see it in his eyes, he wanted you to stay. He didn’t need words to express that. But you weren’t going to stay if he wasn’t going to ask you to. Call it being stubborn or whatever, you just wanted him to say that he wanted you. Wanted you here with him, in his arms, his lips on yours, sharing this moment of discovery together. If he couldn’t give you that, you weren’t going to volunteer your time. You’d done that for years at this point, and quite frankly, you were exhausted. You knew the burden of being alone in your relationship isn’t something that would occur with Chris, but you weren’t going to put yourself out there first. You did too much overthinking for that. You shook your head, looking down at where his hand was now squeezing your hip like he didn’t want to let you go.

“It’s okay. I can just bum a ride with my mom if need be, or call my uncle to chauffeur me around.” You dad’s half brother was always kind to you and willing to do whatever you needed in place of your father. You appreciated that. “You don’t need to worry about me Chris, I can take care of myself.” It was your turn to place a kiss on his cheek, but you made sure to make it to where there was something left to be desired. The kiss lingered, right on the edge of his lips. You brushed your thumb over the spot, whipping the non-existent lipstick you left there. “I had a great time. Thanks for letting me make up that meal you paid for.” You spoke as you tried to stand, his hand on your hip holding you back. You stared at him, just for him to let you go. His fingers slowly brushed over your stomach, before finding rest on the arm of his wrought-iron patio chair. You tried not to feel disappointed, things just weren’t meant to be at this moment. It didn’t mean the moment wouldn’t come. But did you want that? Your rekindled friendship meant everything to you and your bouts with love had all proven to be fruitless, like you’d be alone forever.

You finally stood on your own two feet, fixing your dress that had slightly ridden up from the position you’d been sitting in. He waited until you got to the door before he stood. Your eyes got a glimpse of him adjusting himself, the brief moment you shared clearly having an effect on him. He didn’t touch you again as he guided you through the house, back to the front door. Ever the gentleman, he walked you to your car and held the door open for you. “Next time, it will be just us, I promise.” You turned to look at him. Had he always looked this dazzling in the moonlight? Maybe you hadn’t ever noticed the way his eyes shone in the light. The teenage features he had when you first met were long gone, there was a man standing in front of you now. “Call me when you get home… you never know what kind of creatures lurk in the night.” You chuckled at his warning, no sense that he was serious.

“I’ll text you.” You gave him one last smile, wishing it could be a kiss instead. He returned the smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did. At least you weren’t the only one disappointed the night was ending like this. You got in your car and he shut the door for you. You didn’t bother with letting down the window and making this an even longer goodbye. You just cranked up and pulled out of his driveway, looking back just once to see that longing look in his eye as you drove away. Regret, that's what this night brought to you. Regret that you didn’t recognize your feelings for him sooner. Oh, the heartbreak that could have saved you. You made the silent drive out of his subdivision, turning onto the main road, hyper focused on the dark pavement. Outside of the little community, there weren’t too many lights on the highway back. Your headlights were shit, you knew they needed to be cleaned, but they provided a little bit of light, blending with the slight moonlight that wasn’t covered by clouds.

You reached down to cut up the air. With your car sitting in the sun all day, the air-flow had an almost suffocating feel to it. You took your eyes off the road for a brief moment, fingers searching for the right dials to crank up the ac as much as your old beater would allow. The sweet relief of a cool breeze was short lived as you put your eyes back on the road. You slammed on the breaks, seeing the biggest wolf you’d ever seen standing in the middle of it. Your car came to a screeching halt, much harsher than the ones your old hatchback would make on the regular. The wolf looked in your direction, it had to be as tall as your car was, at least. You’d never seen an animal so big up close. You’ve seen people encounter red wolves when taking hikes around here, but they never looked this massive. Bigger than a dog, yes. Bigger than your car and possibly you? No. Plus it just didn’t look like your typical red wolf. You took in its appearance, its white and gray coat and sharp eyes. It was gorgeously terrifying. Its ear twitched and that's when you noticed the most unusual thing about it, besides its size. It had a row of earrings adoring its ear. Hoops to be exact, large to small. Where the heck had you seen that before?

The hell kind of modern wolf was this? How did it even get piercings? Was it alone? You soon got one of your answers with a howl from the treeline. Appearing from the abyss beyond the dark trees was another wolf, this one all black and even bigger. All the hairs on your arm stood up in alarm. What the hell was going on here. You looked away from the menacing one in the trees to the one in the road, making eye contact with the animal. It ran off as the other one advanced towards it, as if it was afraid of the black one. If it took issue with the scary black wolf, you supposed you probably should too. When the coast was clear, you pressed the gas and bolted. You had to get back home and wash this strange encounter from your mind. You checked the mirror a bit further down the road and there it was, black hair shining under the moonlight, red eyes aglow. A frighteningly beautiful sight to behold. You could see a sense of longing in that animal's eyes. Melancholy must have been going around tonight, but you sure as hell weren't about to stick around to find out if that was indeed the case.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⇠☾⇢ NEXT CHAPTER

© ✐Channieskies 『MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. Please leave a like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this story.』

[mediumgayitalian]

prev chapter

———

“Okay,” Will says, when they’re comfortably on the road. This early in the morning, Highway 17 is practically empty; nothing but sunny skies and clear air rushing through the open roof. The emptiness may also be attributed to the fact that it is a random Tuesday. “Pick a number between one and nine.”

“Uh, five.”

“Good choice, good choice.”

He opens the centre console, digging around Nico’s – well, and his, at this point – collection of CDs to find the right one. He makes a little noise of triumph when he finds it, blowing on the back and wiping it on his shirt before sliding it into the port.

“One half-assed polish isn’t gonna fix those scratches, Solace,” he teases.

“If you weren’t such an emo fuck, Playlist Five wouldn’t be so scratched.”

Nico laughs, conceding this round. Will looks inordinately pleased, nose scrunching along with his tiny smile even as Linkin Park starts blasting through the speakers, which he hates.

“Three songs ‘til Britney,” he grouches as Nico starts hollering along to Points of Authority. Nico shakes his head, still grinning – as if he didn’t make these playlists. If he is truly so miserable, he wouldn’t have put the song on at all.

(Nico knows, in the very back of his mind, that Will actually and truly cannot stand Linkin Park. To him, it’s not music at all. He has never been able to get into it, as much as he truly likes music of every genre. If Linkin Park is on this playlist, and they’re on more than one of the playlists Will has made specifically for their shared car rides, it’s because he cares about Nico more than he hates the band. Nico shoves this knowledge deep into the dustiest corners of his mind, because that’s more than he can afford to think about.)

The next couple hours pass by comfortably. There isn’t much to remark on the side of the road except the odd fruit stand, or farm advertising eggs and honey, so onward Nico drives. He keeps an eye on the odometer, but mostly trusts Will’s calculations. If he says they won’t need gas ‘til Anthony, wherever the hell that is, Nico believes him. 

“Highway changes to the 98 through here,” Will says, nodding to the tiny sign that boasts nothing except Ft. Meade CITY LIMITS, right next to the giant banner half the size of the church it's attached to that reads, REPENT OR BURN. 

Ah, Florida. Please one day change.

“Do I need to exit?”

“Nope, the road just changes to a different number.”

He eases off the gas as they approach the tiny town, watching carefully for state troopers. And, like, children, probably. So far he’s passed twelve gun ranges and one school, but whatever. He can have priorities, even if this garbage state doesn’t.

“Hm. 98 is a better number.”

“Absolutely not,” Will tells him, aghast. “17 is a prime number!”

“Ninety-eight is more fun to say. Also, prime numbers suck.”

“You take that back –”

Nico slides up his sunglasses, shaking his head fondly. Nerdiest nerd to ever nerd. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so endeared.

He presses back on the accelerator as they exit the town, turning up the music as Will’s rant ends. He shucks off his shoes – Feet off my goddamn dash, Solace – and curls up into his seat, burying himself in a book. Nico glances away from the road to try and read the title, but quickly gives up since the font is bright fucking purple, for some reason, and in some horrible looping shape that he knows will give him a migraine. All graphic designers should be in prison. 

“Hey, there’s apparently a gator reserve forty-five minutes ahead.” Nico squints again at the book. Barely, he can make out “roadside” and “weird”. “‘Weird American Roadside Attractions’,” Will reads aloud, noticing Nico looking. “Such as a very nice and highly rated gator reserve –”

“No.”

“Road trip, Nico. Adventure.”

“I’m super happy to adventure away from living fucking dinosaurs, Solace.”

“Aw, come on, they’re kinda cute –”

“Two thousand pounds per square inch of jaw strength! You are the one who told me that!”

“You don’t think you could take one in a fight?”

Nico stares at his best friend incredulously. He’s got a thoughtful little frown on his face, looking at the sky as he contemplates. Nico notices, vaguely, that the shade of his irises is the exact same colour. 

“No, I do not. Obviously.” He pauses. “You think you could take a fuckin’ gator?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“See, that’s crazy, because fifteen seconds ago I genuinely believed you were an intelligent person.”

“Do not lie to me and tell me you don’t have a list of animals you know you could take in a fight,” Will says, instead of rising to the bait. He waits, meeting Nico’s glare, eyebrows raised.

“An ostrich,” Nico admits, begrudgingly. “I feel like – one good punch to the throat –”

Will smiles smugly at him. “That’s what I thought.” He turns back to his book, fiddling with the corner of a page. “Also, ostriches are more closely related to dinosaurs than alligators. So. Check and mate, motherfucker.”

They pull into Anthony at around eleven, at pretty much exactly a quarter tank – just like Will predicted. He looks inordinately pleased about it, so Nico shoots off a quick prayer to the karma gods. 

He trips on his way out of the Jeep. Nico smirks.

“I’m gonna go stretch my legs,” he says, unaware of Nico’s hand in his humbling. Nico waves him off, attention turned to the gas pump.

Annoyingly, as he pulls out his card and handles the pump, he remembers Will’s scrunched nose and pursed lips as he’d explained, when they were 16, how gas station pumps were frequently more germy than their toilets, and cleaned approximately one hundred percent less. Suddenly, his hand begins to feel grimey.

Twelve bags of chips, a gas station slushie, and a pair of clean hands later, Will is still nowhere to be found. Nico frowns, craning his neck to look around the tiny parking lot as if he somehow missed Will’s neon orange shirt the first time he looked. Still not catching sight of him, he walks hesitantly back to the Jeep, tucking his snacks away and biting his lip, contemplating. Will is both very fast and very easily distracted, but he has enough sense not to go too far in a random town five hours from home. If he sticks by the car and waits, Will’ll be back soon. 

But, on the other hand, waiting is torture.

Easy decision, really.

He locks the door, hopes that no one will show up with a pair of wire cutters and a flathead screw driver, and sets off. The first thing he notices, and he adds it to his mental list of things to loudly complain about when Will is locked in the car with him, is that it is fucking sweltering. In the hours approaching the afternoon, the day has gone to pleasantly warm to so hot the air is actually thick with it, and he doesn’t have wind ripping through the open windows to cool him down. Plus, he’s wearing jeans, and for the first, and hopefully only, time in his life, he envies his friend’s cargo shorts. 

The second thing he notices is that Anthony, Florida, is empty as shit. All the love in his heart to the people who call it home, but also, move, maybe. He’s hesitant to stray too far from the gas station, in case Will comes back and finds him gone, but there are no hills or anything. He can see quite far down the road. The only thing he sees is a possum starting a fight with a poor random guy – which, actually, is kind of fun to watch. 

Perhaps he has judged Anthony too harshly. 

“Nico!” shouts a voice, startling him. He whips around and finds Will, standing in the goddamn centre of the road, the dumbass, waving like a lunatic.

“There is no possible way I was going to miss you,” Nico informs him when he’s close enough. “You are approximately the height of the Washington monument. I could not miss you if I tried.”

“I wasn’t waving to get your attention, I was waving to shoo away the eagles that mistook you for a mouse.”

Nico kicks him in the shin. Will, well used to his violence, dodges, grinning, except in the act of hopping away from Nico’s dangerously hardy boots, he somehow wraps his foot around his own ankle and goes sprawling.

Nico smirks. “Who’s the short one now.”

Faster than he can even follow, Will’s hand darts out, wrapping around his ankle, and tugs, yanking him yelping on the asphalt next to him. 

“Foul!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Neeks.”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Nico screams at the alarm bells blaring in his brain, he doesn’t mean it like that and you know it oh shit he’s looking this way quick look normal look normal –

“I can do war if that’s what you want, Solace,” he manages, honestly quite proud of himself for managing speech with approximately fourteen percent of his brain still functioning. Damn.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway.” He crawls to his feet, offering Nico a hand. He takes it, dutifully fighting the urge to pull Will down again, just to be an asshole. He’s cool like that, and most definitely being normal about the scrape of Will’s callused fingers against the inside of his forearm. “I found maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, and I need you to come look at it immediately.”

“Sick,” Nico says, immediately intrigued. He and Will have their differences, sure, but if there’s one thing they can agree on it’s their sense of humour. 

He follows will down the road, passing the gas station again. (His car, thankfully, remains in one piece and beautifully not-robbed.) They dark across an empty intersection, walking across a yellowed lawn as they approach a run-down, patchy, one-storey bungalow with a rusted sign that reads: The Iron Works.

“Behold,” says Will gleefully, “the Abstract Iron Centaur.”

And behold, Nico does.

Gaping, he observes the structure standing proudly under the sign. Striding proudly, rather, its front legs bent to simulate movement, its human arms poised as if ready to strike. It wears a medieval knight’s helmet, and holds a rusted axe. The entire structure is a little taller than Will, and made of, presumably, iron, rusted into a light roan red.

“Abstract Iron Centaur,” Nico repeats, after several minutes of silence.

Will still looks delighted. “It was in my book. I had no idea what to expect and also I didn’t believe it was real. Isn’t it the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“It’s…something.”

“We gotta take a picture, Neeks. I never want to forget this thing.”

Nico allows himself to be pulled, still somewhat bewildered. It’s not even the oddest thing he’s ever seen, it’s just – he has many questions, like, for example, why? How long has this creature existed? How long will it persist? Who created it? Why is it in Will’s dorky book? Does it house a soul?

“Okay, squish in, this camera is older than your elderly ass and doesn’t have a timer.”

The familiar jab breaks him out of his stupor. “Seven months older than you, fucker.”

“Geriatric.”

Without warning, Will crowds them under the Abstract Iron Centaur’s lifted arm, and then presses his widely grinning cheek right flush to Nico’s, raising his beat-up camera to the air.

Nico’s brain goes static.

“Say cheese!”

“Hnngh,” says Nico, as the camera blinds him.

Luckily for his continuously worsening blood pressure, Will pulls away the second he hears the click, shaking the ejected negative to help it develop, and Nico has a second to remind his lungs that they have a function, actually, get your shit together, I am not dying in fucking Anthony, Florida. 

“You look like a dork!” Will says, delighted. “Look!”

Blinking at the photo shoved one sixteenth of an inch from his eyeballs, Nico indeed looks. The Abstract Iron Centaur looks more foreboding on camera, somehow, but Nico barely notices it – instead, he finds his gaze drawn to the beam so wide it forces Will’s eyes shut, and the dazed, dopey look on his own face; eyes wide, mouth dropped, slightly, and posture undeniably leaning into Will’s magnetism. 

Humming to himself, Will slips his wallet out of (one of) the (many) pocket(s) of his shorts, tucking the photo inside it. Nico melts into a puddle of goo on the dead grass. His mortal soul escapes his body, descending rapidly. His atoms return to star dust. Et cetera.

“Oh, shit, we gotta go if we want to reach Georgia in good time.”

“Right,” says Nico, voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “Let’s go.”

He absolutely does not haul ass to his car. He walks at a normal pace, for normal reasons, thoughts in a normal place. 

“Back on the 75,” Will instructs as they peel out, sliding sunglasses on his nose. “We gotta scoot around town a bit to get to the entrance, but it won’t take long.”

“D’you know this place?” Nico asks, even though he doubts it. As far as he knows, Will was outside of Sarasota one time: in the move from Austin. He supposes his mother might have had a concert up here, or something, and unusually, let him tag along, but he doubts it.

“Nah, just memorised the map.”

Nico hides a smile. “Oh, of course.”

It’s all too easy to tease Will, but there was a reason he was valedictorian. There’s a reason for his many shining scholarship offers, his endless well of ridiculous facts pulled from nowhere. He is, genuinely, the smartest person Nico has ever met.

Even if he genuinely believes he can fight an alligator and win.

“Two hours ‘til we cross state lines,” Will says brightly, shouting slightly over the wind as they merge onto the highway. “And then on to infinity!”

“Onto infinity,” Nico agrees, matching his smile. 

Already, he’s proved Nico wrong. They’re farther now than Will has been since he was seven, and there’s nothing in his expression that suggests he wants to slow down. 

Privately, and quietly, Nico lets himself start to hope. 

———

next chapter

[lizard-reads-the-world]

I got overwhelmed over the summer and didn't get to post reviews for the ARCs I had at the time. But I really want to share this one, because it was so cute!

Navigating with You is a graphic novel in which two new girls at school bond over a manga series. Neesha is a Black teen with cerebral palsy in her legs (uses leg braces/forearm crutches/wheelchair interchangeably) and Gabi is a bi Latina surfer who's moved away from her Florida home after tragedy.

They make it a challenge to track down the out-of-print manga while falling in love in the process. I love how real and down-to-earth this book was, with such depth of character and a fun storyline without over-angst.

It's also a really great disability representation, both Neesha's CP and Gabi's PTSD, touching on microaggressions and wheelchair-moving consent. A funny scene is when Neesha goes into a thrift shop with her crutches to make a distraction, sarcastically thinking "Oh no! I'm a disabled teen in your shop full of breakable knicknacks", and the shop owner reacts just as expected. (It's Gabi who ends up breaking things), and I loved the panel where Gabi triumphantly exclaims "My girlfriend trusts me to push her wheelchair!" XD

The graphic novel is interspersed with full-page snippets of the manga they are reading, which is ridiculously over-dramatic in true manga style. The sapphic love story IS. SO. CUTE. and the art is gorgeous, too. Highly recommend picking this up if you can find it!

Content warnings:

PTSD episode, death of parent (flashback), car accident (flashback), ableism, biphobia, emotionally abusive ex, divorced parents

@thedisabilitybookarchive

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐏

A/N: thank you so so SO much for the support on part one. i did not expect that at all!! everyones likes, reblogs, comments, and tags made my whole day (especially the comments and tags, almost cried during class cause i was soft over some of y'alls fic reviews) um, anyway, still fluffy, still 4k words, still a little awkward eddie, and some very minor angst for plot movement. nothing to be scared about, i promise. also, this fic is very much not a slow burn, it's more akin to love-at-first-sight-but-were-both-awkward-idiot-dummys. and as always so much love and praise for mona @enam3l for making sure this fic is coherent and not just me rambling thoughts. please enjoy!

PART ONE ✿ PART THREE

Virginias letter sat heavy in Eddie’s pocket for the remainder of the day. Only being touched again when he took it from the deep, work pockets and folded it up to put in his jean pockets as he left for the day back home.  

Eddie didn’t see you the rest of the day, assuming you left around 2:50 like Virginia would, his own shift not ending till 4. This theory being confirmed when he did finally head out, there were only two cars left in the staff lot. One being his van, his baby that was on her last legs. A few spots down sat the second, Mr. Sinclair’s Honda Accord. Knowing the father of Lucas and Erica, an ex-elementary school teacher turned middle school principal, he probably wouldn’t be heading out till around 5:30 when Ron came in for the night shift and lockup. Mr. Sinclair was a kindly principle with a no-nonsense policy yet, still carefree enough for the kids to like him. He was way better than the principle of Hawkins middle when Eddie attended.   

Eddie parked the Mystery Machine - a name dubbed by Robin the first time he took her and Steve on a drive - in front of the small, blue house. Wayne’s car still parked in the driveway, his shift at the plant not starting till 6; giving Eddie enough time to take a power nap and make dinner for the both of them. Tonight was definitely a soup and grilled cheese kinda night. Maybe some steamed broccoli for a balanced meal or what not.  

Entering the home, he falls into his usual after work ritual of putting any change from his pockets into the coin-jar and his keys next to it. Then, his shoes come off and are placed by the door so he could slip them on easily in the morning. Wayne’s door was closed, presumably still sleeping, so he does his routine quietly. He keeps his shirt on but takes his jeans off to put on some plaid, loose fit pajama bottoms. Before discarding his jeans into the could-be-worn-again pile, he takes out the note. With a sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed with the letter clasped in his fingers.   

Eddie doesn’t even know why the letter was stressing him out so badly. He knew it wouldn’t be anything truly bad. Yeah, he was bummed he wasn’t warned beforehand about her sudden retirement to Florida, but at least she left him something to explain herself. That’s more than the other people in his life who upped and left with no warning could say.   

Man up, dude. It’s just words on some paper.  

With a few more seconds of memorizing all the curves and loops of his name written by Virginia on the back, he bites the bullet and opens the letter. He unfolds the parchment, noting the formal stationary with a huff of laughter, surprised it wasn’t just a loose-leaf lined page. Eddie begins to read the words left for him.  

Dear Eddie M.,  

If you’re reading this letter that means I’ve finally left this hellhole and jumped ship. (Jumped on a ship, that is. You know me and my affinity for cruises to tropical locations.)  

Eddie did know this, having heard a small handful of stories from Virgina about the cruises and summer beach vacations she would take with her son, Rick, and her roommate, Caroline. He even remembers a few years back, one of the first times he saw her out and about at the grocery store wearing this graphic t-shirt of a humanoid lady cat in a hot pink one-piece, lounging on a beach towel with the words ‘Bahama Mama’ in matching pink script above her. Eddie had walked up to her in the dairy aisle, Cheshire Cat grin on display, and said with his whole chest, “Hello, Bahama Mama.” To which Virginia promptly ignored him with a side eye glance and headed towards the produce section.  

But that also means you’ve met the lovely nurse who will be taking my place. She also has a great enjoyment of beach vacations, if you’re looking for topic starters. You’ve always been quite dreadful at small talk, but I won’t bore you with the reminiscing of our first meeting, you were there, and I hope you remember it like I do.  

Knowing you, though, you’re either jumping for joy to be rid of this old gal or confused on my sudden departure. I’m truly sorry I couldn’t say goodbye in person and to leave so suddenly. But let’s be honest here, Edward, if anyone could convince me to spend another 65 55 years in Indiana, it would be you.  

Caroline and I decided it was as good as time as any to finally do some traveling, just the two of us. Rick and the kids are in a good place now (but please still keep an eye on him when you can, I don’t trust him to be truthful about things, like you are.) You're in a good place as well, whether you care to admit it or not.   

I would never have left if I thought you truly still needed me.  

Eddie lets out a sardonic laugh at her truthful sentiments. Virginia wasn’t a liar, she had secrets like any normal person, but when she said things, she meant them. He furrows his brows noticing a small wet stain on the next line before another quickly appears. Bringing his free hand up to his face he realizes he’s crying. With a hard sniffle and another chuckle at his own emotions he collects himself and finishes the note. 

Enough of the sappy shit crap. You’ll be receiving various postcards in due time through our gorgeous new friend. Play nice and don’t fuck it up, Edward. I believe in you. You need to make friends now before you end up stubborn and old like me. Not everyone gets their own Caroline.  

I better here back from you. My replacement will know what to do with them.  

Love, Virginia Wagner  

Eddie folded up the letter, put it back in the envelope and tucked it in his bedside table drawer. Don’t fuck it up, I believe in you, echoing in his brain. He had no intentions on fucking up anything. Especially with you. You, the woman he just met not even 24 hours ago. He shakes you from his thought, not ready to jump  nto that obvious trap set up by a secret hopeless romantic. He needed time. His mind, body, and heart still processing the words he just read before an evil grin spread upon his lips.  

“I fucking knew that old witch was a lesbian.”  

You didn’t come into work for the remainder of prep-week.   

Which was fine. So fine in fact that Eddie 100% didn’t even notice. He had his own work to distract him. How could he have known you weren’t there when he was so busy moving desks, cleaning floors, eating lunch outside with that sad, puppy dog look on his face because he’s never had to find a spot to eat outside of the nurse's office before. Your disappearance hit him like a freight train on Friday.   

With one of those old school paperback books from a second-hand shop in town in one hand and the other preoccupied with feeding himself. His brain simultaneously trying to read the small words whilst not overthinking every possible thing regarding you.  

Did Eddie just fuck everything up with one meeting? Was he so off-putting that the only reasonable response was to quit on your first day in order to prevent the chance of running into him again? Your ability to make people leave will forever astound me, Eddie Munson, he tells himself.  

The reasonable part of Eddies brain played quickly to shut down this intense negative thinking. Maybe you were just sick? Even nurses get sick sometimes! Or a family emergency! Or your car broke down! Or something evil that Eddie wasn’t sure he’d ever possibly be able to explain to someone who didn’t experience it first-hand like him and his friends was happening in Hawkins again and you just happened to be the first victim-  

Nope. No. No. We’re shutting this down here, traumatized and overactive brain. Eddie began doing his deep breathing exercises that he learned from his therapist (well, Steve’s, who had promptly told Eddie because mental healthcare was a luxury he could probably never afford.) Reminding himself he was going to be okay he decided that on Monday, if you were still M.I.A, he’d ask someone. Freaking out and thinking the immediate worst, wasn’t gonna help anyone, he needed to just chill. Not let his mind take control of him. Virginia was smart and could sense things about people, she wouldn't have forced the two of you to collide in such a way if she thought you’d up and disappear.  

Besides, even the kindest of people don’t share Swiss Rolls with people they hate, and Hawkins was no longer a literal gateway to hell.  

Eddie’s weekend was uneventful.  

He finished his book. He went grocery shopping. Him and Wayne watched some rom-com film with Julia Roberts as a sex worker. In hindsight, a bizarre movie choice for both of them, next time Eddie thinks he’ll just let Wayne put on his beloved westerns. He worried just a bit about you. He kept his thoughts as realistic as he could this time. Although, he did at one point worry, whilst lying in bed Sunday night, whether you had gone missing and he was the only one to notice, meaning he’s now fucked up any chance of your rediscovery by not informing someone. But this was Hawkins. If you had truly gone missing without a trace, he would’ve heard of it by now. Especially from Pamela in Admin who did the attendance records and didn’t know how to keep things to herself.   

Point is, if you had an unexcused absence for the 4-days you were gone, she would’ve made it everyones business. Which gave Eddie some peace of mind that he’s heard nothing through the grapevine that runs through Hawkins.  

That Monday morning, Eddie was the first to traverse the halls of the first day of another school year at Hawkins middle. Or he thought he was. He wasn’t so sure because as he made his way to the main switch box that turned on all the hallway lights, a fluorescent glow was spilling out of the Nurse’s office.  

He slowed his pace as he approached the door left ajar, his head peeked around the corner of the entry. The lights were all on, there were various storage boxes on the beds, some filled with medical odds and ends, others empty. It was clear someone had been there organizing supplies.  

“Uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, the first use of his voice for the morning, “Hello?”  

“Good morning,”  

He whips around, startled by the cheery voice.  

“Jesus H. Christ, you gotta stop doing that,” his hand rubbed at his chest, face disgruntled and red from the jump scare.  

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps entering my workspace unannounced,” a look of innocence on your face. You step around him, bodies almost touching for just a second, causing Eddie’s heartbeat to increase embarrassingly so.     You’ve got a coffee mug held tightly in one hand, the other stuffed deep in your cardigan. The same sunflowers embellishing it, that greeted Eddie last time. Your scrub top today was black with various illustrations of Mickey and Minnie Mouse depicted as nurses.   

“I said hello,” he argues, hand rubbing at his chin. He continues to take in your appearance and any new details he can latch onto. You look the same, of course. It’s only been like what, 6 days since he saw you last. The only glaring difference being a sleepier appearance, even with the bubbly morning aura, your eyelids look heavy. You roll them at his defense, a resting smile never leaving your lips.  

You step over bins on the floor, take a long sip from your mug, and set it on the same table he put his lunch sack on last week. He smiles at the mug; it was off white and in red cartoonish font had the slogan ‘I ♡ my aunt!’. You begin to work on the boxes and talk as he stands in the entryway, not wanting to disturb the systematic mess you have in place.  

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” you snort, picking up a closed box and putting it in the storage closet by the office part of the Nurse’s Office, “I normally don’t disappear like that. You know, I just moved in town a few weeks ago, and I’ve been having problems with the house I’m renting,” you sigh after exiting the closet. Now stuffing labelled Ziploc bags with various bandages and over the counter medication into a new bin. You look focused even while speaking sporadically.  

He can’t move his eyes away from your hands as you work diligently on putting content into storage while still explaining about your absence. Vaguely, he catches something about landlords, repair men and having to take cold baths. He was listening but most of his attention was focused on your fingers tackling Ziploc bag openings. Your sleeves rising just enough for him to wonder if shadows were playing tricks on his mind, or there was a wrist tattoo he couldn’t quite make out from this angle.   

“Eddie, ya still with me?”  

He eyes snaps up from your stilled hands to look at the playful gleam in your eye from catching him staring, “hm?”  

“I asked if you’ve read the letter yet,” you decide to step slightly closer, most of the boxes now closed and in the closet. There weren’t that many to begin with but he’s still surprised with how fast you managed to finish the task.  

“Yeah, I did. It was sweet, for Virginia that is,” really sweet. You show your teeth in a wide grin.  

“I’m glad. I was afraid you might hold some resentment towards me for replacing her,” you do that snort laugh thing again, “I am nosey though, did she mention me?”  

Eddie smirks mischievously, hands coming to rest on his hips, allowing himself to incline, further closing the distance between you both.   “Wouldn’t ya like to know, Peach.”  

Your stomach did front flips from the use of that silly, little nickname again. 

“I would, I really would. That’s why I asked,” you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. One of your fingers he’d been watching intensely before, now coming up to give his chest a poke. 

Was this flirting? Eddie knew it was something akin to flirting, but was this a playful flirting or a serious flirting? He struggled between the two, often getting told off and read wrong for his natural charm. He’s like pretty sure he’s flirting with the serious intention, but were you? His heart felt like it was gonna fall out of his ass and he might throw up his own brain from all these emotions and thoughts.  

Before he could respond and remind his head and heart to start working again, a familiar voice spoke from behind his back.  

“What is happening here?”  

It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes, another body squeezing past him to enter the nurse’s office. He takes a step back to let the young intruder have space to do whatever he needs to do here. You put your hand down and smile at the student you’ve yet to meet.  

Matty Sherman had a head of thick dark curls, a mole on his left cheek, and dark green eyes. He was wearing an obviously well-loved and a size too big Pantera t-shirt he had obviously cut the sleeves off himself to make into a muscle tee. He paired this with loose fitted, medium wash jeans, and some relatively new converse. Obviously wanting to make a statement and look his best for his first day of 8th grade. Both of his backpack straps were secured on his shoulder. His eyes looked between Eddie and you before landing securely on you.  

“Sup,” he smiles wide, dimples and braces on display.   

“Hi,” you smile widely yourself, a hitch in your voice from trying to not laugh at the situation. You glance over to Eddie, who’s looking at you with a pout on his pretty lips. Your eyes shift toward yet another, Ziploc bag that was in Matty’s hand.  

“That for me?” You ask, hand gesturing towards the bag holding obvious medication.  

“You the nurse?” The teen boy asks in a playful tone, as if you’re not wearing an outrageously patterned scrub top whilst standing in the nurse’s office.  

“I am the nurse.”  

“Then this is for you. I have asthma,” he hands you the Ziploc bag, curls bouncing when he turns to look at Eddie now, “Munson.”  

“Sherman, how was your summer?”   

“Dude, it was great. My dad felt so bad about not doing crap with us for Christmas that he took Me and Eli to see Megadeth in Chicago,” Matty excitedly responds, hands flailing around as he speaks. Beaded bracelets he had covering his wrist clanking together.   

Eddie couldn’t help but smile slightly at that. As much as he acted like Matty was a thorn in his side, he did genuinely care about him. In some weird turn of events, he had become to Matty what Virginia was to him. A safe haven at school. Even though Matty was far more popular than Eddie was at the same age, he obviously needed some sort of role model or trusted adult to just care. Matty had his mom at home and Eddie at school. Similar to how Eddie had Wayne at home and Virginia at school.  

Matty was waiting for Eddie's response, wanting some sort of confirmation that his ass of a father taking him and his older brother to see a metal concert was actually a cool thing to do. You were clearly taking your time putting Matty’s medication away to give them time to have this moment. Eddie smiles wide at Matty, to which he instantly perks up more.  

“Man, that does sound like a great summer. I spent my whole summer cleaning up after you kids,” he huffs and gives Matty’s shoulder a nudge.  

“You would’ve loved it, Munson, I’m telling you.”  

“Yeah,” he agrees before your make yourself known again.   

“I hate to break this up but class for you,” you gesture towards the youngest metalhead, “starts in about 5 minutes and I’m pretty sure we need to get back to work,” you give Eddie an apologetic smile. It’s probably the closest thing to sad he’s seen you so far and he’s not a fan. At all.  

“Yeah,” he agrees sadly, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, “We good for lunch?”   

“Yes.” You respond, quickly. Agreement coming out before he even got to the final syllable in lunch. Now his lips are being nipped to contain his full smile.  

“Good, I’ll see you then,” he moves his hand to grab the handle of Matty’s bookbag to lead him out.  

“You will! Bye guys,” You wiggle your fingers in goodbye.  

“Bye,” Matty waves to you as he’s being pulled out by Eddie. Your laugh following them out into the hall.  

Eddie keeps his hand secured on Matty’s bag until they’re a good few feet in the opposite direction from your door. He lets go and Matty takes a few steps to the side and adjusts his backpack to sit better on his back.  

“She’s hot.”  

Eddie is positive he gets whiplash from how fast his head turns to glare at the 8th grader. Disgust on his face, even though he said something factual, he shouldn’t be saying things like that at all. He’s like a baby in Eddies eyes.  

“Jesus, Matty, don’t say shit like that.”  

Matty gasps in mock shock, “Woah! Language, Mr.Munson, I have impressionable ears,” he dramatically covers his ears with both hands. Eddie shakes his head and gives his bookbag a gentle shove towards where he knows his home room is.  

“Get to class.”  

Matty laughs loudly as he runs down the hall to his first period. Eddie felt too old for this shit.  

That Monday lunch went swimmingly. Eddie thinks. He hopes. It definitely felt like it went swimmingly?  

You laughed at his jokes. His actual jokes, not just his situational awkwardness. You asked about his week and he asked about yours. He left out the part of being fearful you quit cause of him. Whilst you delved more into your trouble with the handy men and your landlord; your stove still didn’t work but at least you had hot water. He even got to learn more about you pre-Hawkins by finally divulging the info Virginia had written about.  

“Well, she is right. I do love the beach,” You were talking with a grape stuffed into your cheek. It was endearing but Eddie was silently praying you chewed it well and didn’t choke cause he definitely did not know the Heimlich manoeuvre. “I think that’s what I’m gonna miss the most while here. Indiana doesn’t even have a coastline, how sad is that,” You’re shaking your head in disapproval.  

“We have lakes,” he tries to amend, taking a bit of his Swiss Roll that you, again, have shared with him.  

Your eyes shoot up at him in a glare, not amused by his suggestion, “Eat your sandwich.” You say it in a tone that Eddie imagines you would use while scolding a student, it makes him roll his eyes with a huff but he does as you say. Putting the half-eaten Swiss Roll down to actually eat the sandwich he brought, another concoction of various cheeses and deli meat and some lettuce for color.  

You smirk at him following your directions. You’re eyeing both your lunches once again, almost identical to the meals you brought on your first lunch. Two sandwiches, two Swiss Rolls, one bag of pretzels, another bag of grapes. You have a Coke can and he’s got Yoo-hoo in a glass. It kinda makes you sad that you’re both grown adults eating lunches teenagers would prep for themselves. You think, once your stove is fixed you may start bringing some better meals, definitely less peanut butter and more vegetables. Maybe you’ll even bring enough to share.  

And on Thursday that’s exactly what you do.  

Outside of that first Monday morning, nothing eventful really happened for the rest of the week. You had your small group of after lunch medicine takers and a few kids in need of ice packs and Band-Aids. Your lunches were preoccupied with Eddie, getting to know him better.   

Part of your brain wanted to convince you that they were kinda like mini dates.  Unfortunately, your rational side reminded you that you were just two co-workers who didn’t really fit into any of the other staff groups, looking for some companionship during lunch. You were the replacement of his previous lunch partner. But then you remembered all the snippets of info Virginia had written to you once she began to send you letters after your acceptance to take on her job so she could retire. You probably would never tell Eddie you know this slice of information, not wanting to embarrass him, but she had made it very clear that Eddie was lonely. She knew you were lonely too.   

You two can be lonely together.  

When Eddie walked into your office that Thursday he was extremely confused at the second lunch box placed where he would normally sit. It was bulky and plastic like yours, but instead of Snoopy it was the Smurfs. You were writing something down in that nurses journal you had, your own lunchbox sat next to your resting elbow.  

A worried thought started in his mind, Did you find a new lunch buddy? Were his conversational skills not improving? But then you looked up at him, that kind little smile on your lips.  

“You gonna sit down or just keep enjoying the view?”   

He returns the smile and gestures to the blue thing before taking his seat, “What’s this?”   

“Oh, uh…” You’re flustered. It’s obvious and he’s enamored by it - like most things you do. God what’s gotten into him. “I hope it’s not too forward, but I made you a lunch. My stove got fixed and your, well our- please take no offense to this, our lunches were starting to depress me a bit.” You were talking faster the more you went on. Realizing the possible negative consequences of your actions. Eddie was nice but he didn’t have to entertain your too comfortable and too caring too fast behaviors.   

He quickly shut down your increasingly panicked explanation, “I’ve never had a girl make me a lunch before. It’s sweet. You're sweet.” He was honest. He hasn’t had a girl in this context make him any sort of a meal before and you were sweet. Sharing Swiss Rolls and ‘take as many as you like’ candy bowls with the expensive chocolate kind of sweet. 

You smile. A wide, closed mouth smile at his understanding. He taps his fingers against the hard plastic shell, right on-top of Smurfette's blue face.   

“I hope you like it and I hope you’re not allergic to anything.” You’re calmer now and anticipating him opening his lunch.  

“I’m not. Except, for like, pollen,” he chuckles and unlatches the box. Inside there was a Tupperware of spirally noodles with a mix of cut up: vegetables, tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, a few rogue pieces of broccoli and some halves pepperoni slices, an oil based Italian dressing covering it all. Your aunt’s pasta salad, that was the first recipe you ever learned. Next to it, wrapped in cling wrap was a fudgy looking brownie with peanut butter morsels spread throughout. When he looks back up you had taken out two Coke cans from the stash he knows you keep in the bottom part of your giant metal filing cabinet. A pretty hand holding one out to him.  

“I refuse to buy Pepsi, hope you like Coke.”  

“I love Coke,” he takes it from your hand.   

The food tasted as good as it looked, so good only the sound of chewing, plastic forks on Tupperware, and hums of appreciation being heard. It was similar to the first lunch but instead of the awkward, uncertain air, this moment was comfortable, relaxing. Two friends - because that’s what you two have become in this last week - enjoying a meal together.   

It happened fast, Eddie thinks, this comfort between the two of you. Maybe it’s the kindredness between you two, the various similarities you shared.   

“You know, I can cook too,” Eddie breaks the silence. You’re working on your dessert, always saving it for last. Eddie was impatient and devoured his first thing in the most polite way possible. There’s brownie in the corner of your mouth when you give him your attention, humming for him to continue his thought.  

Eddie’s not sure what possesses him to do it. He could play it off as his role of janitor and having a habit of cleaning messes, but he knows that’s not entirely true. He cups one side of your face with his hand, the rings are a nice cold on your warm face. His thumb swiping the crumbs from corner lip in such a natural way you’d think he would have done this to you often. No matter how hard you try, you'd always been a messy eater. You don’t flinch. You don’t even show any signs of this being unusual or unwelcome aside from a slight widening of your eyes.  

Eddie let's another wave of confidence take over him. “Maybe I can cook for you on Saturday night?”  

You nod, mouth still full of brownie and making the executive decision to not be gross and talk with your mouth full in this situation. He smiles and removes his hand from your cheek. Silently, you both find the skin that had just made contact now tingles. It's hard not to think about when you may steal another touch, but the pair of you hope maybe Saturday.  

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3 @ms1oftheboys @rosaline-black @haylaansmi @adoringdanvers @wyverntatty @gaysludge @bebe07011 @boltonbritreads @hugdealer @gothvamp1973 @awhoreforeddiemunson @definitionwanderlust @billytalentleaves @aysheashea @pollenallergie @siriuslysmoking @heavymetalbabyy @killerbailey @sidthedollface2 @whenshelanded @hazydespair @mayhemicfordays @inocrazeh @thora-jane @varevaretostuff @vintagehellfire @chaoticgood-munson (strike means it wont tag)

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[pandemichub]

More hurricane relief

Go Fund Me campaign screenshot.

Image of chlorine gas plume coming from facility in the distance. Photo taken from highway. Cars on road driving by.

Act Now! Gas Mask Fundraiser for Conyers Residents

$3,575 raised of $10,000 goal. 92 donations

We're past 3.5k! Let's keep it going folks! https://t.co/2JP1eY8jX7

pic.twitter.com/Rap7KhOG1D

GoFundMe campaign screenshot

— Jay Byrd 🌈 (@jadafulcher) October 5, 2024

Lots of types of 3,560 N95s & KN95s plus 352 RAT tests headed up to WNC for #HurricaneHelene relief today!

These are needed for both illness and cleanup efforts!

pic.twitter.com/87CY3jIeMD

Open trunk packed to the top with supplies.

— Charlotte Mask Bloc (@CLT_Mask_Bloc) October 5, 2024

Please help us restock since we're running low on Auras!!https://t.co/bWaFH1Sx23

— Charlotte Mask Bloc (@CLT_Mask_Bloc) October 5, 2024

Also a warning, another storm may be brewing!

If you are able to evacuate, please make a plan and get out before the outer rain bands start.

If you are unable to evacuate, please get provisions to shelter in place for days or longer. https://t.co/Ml9km4zDyD

— Sara Anne Willette ♿️🌈👩🏻‍💻𓅆 (@amethystarlight) October 5, 2024

Quoted tweet

Another billion dollar disaster on the way. The time to prepare is now. pic.twitter.com/zt1WrPu6iU

— Ryan Hall, Y’all (@ryanhallyall) October 5, 2024

Just don't turn north and hit Appalachia again. https://t.co/1e270BA7XE

— Sara Anne Willette ♿️🌈👩🏻‍💻𓅆 (@amethystarlight) October 5, 2024

Quoted tweet

NEW: Tropical Storm Milton is expected to make landfall in Florida as a major Category 3 hurricane, NHC says

pic.twitter.com/7TxfOVbiJt

— BNO News (@BNONews) October 5, 2024

⚠️ #Milton is now forecast to become a Category 3 Major Hurricane before striking the west coast of the Florida Peninsula on Wednesday.

pic.twitter.com/Mqu1VwODmO

— Zoom Earth (@zoom_earth) October 5, 2024

ID: Map, forecast and meteorological data constructed video Hurricane Milton, and the area of Texas, Mexico, Gulf of Mexico, Florida, Alabama, Georgia and Mississippi.

ID: NOAA hurricane forecast graphic. Shows Gulf of Mexico and path of hurricane Milton with time and day of week stamps from Sunday to Tuesday (October 8th) just before it makes landfall (Wednesday October 9th).

Officials and reports state this hurricane is a set to be highly destructive and is not survivable. Please seek safety, and help anyone who is struggling to leave, especially without assistance.

Don't forget the disability and disaster hotline!

800-626-4959

[mariacallous]

One night in May, Mikol Ayala stood in an empty parking lot in Florida with his arms out to his side and legs akimbo as two people covered him in isopropyl alcohol. “Get ready to put me out,” Ayala told them. Then the fireworks began.

The scene, illuminated by a pair of car headlights, was being livestreamed on X. The aim was to promote Ayala’s crypto token, Truth or Dare. “Don’t get FOMO, drop a bag on $DARE!” read a graphic layered over the feed. Ayala had been filming himself performing stunts all week—drinking bong water, smashing up his TV, and so forth—but this one went too far.

Ayala dodged the first volley of roman candles fired in his direction, but soon his entire torso was engulfed in flames. “Oh shit,” said a voice from behind the camera, having apparently not considered this possibility. The group threw water over Ayala, but it quickly ran out. He buckled onto a patch of grass and began to scream.

Meanwhile, the price of the $DARE coin pitched upward, reaching a total combined value of $2 million the following day. The denizens of the Internet, it seemed, were pleased with what they saw.

Ayala had suffered third-degree burns on a third of his body, he was later told by doctors. But from the hospital bed, he continued to promote his coin in videos on X, promising to return to stunting as soon as he was able. “I’m the most spontaneous wildcat in the fucking world,” he said. “You tell me let’s go, I’m there.”

Ayala agreed to an interview, but only if he would be paid. WIRED declined.

Though hardly believable to a normie ear, Ayala’s story is not unique in the world of so-called meme coins, in which marketing stunts now routinely range from ridiculous to dangerous to sexually degrading.

This year, to put their coins on the map—as chronicled by crypto media outlet Decrypt—one creator filmed himself getting punched so hard in the face he lost a tooth, another blacked out after smoking drugs, a pair of creators rubbed up against one another in their underwear, and another group detained a person in a purported kidnapping.

Some creators promise to perform specific acts after their meme coins reach certain milestones—a little like funding goals on Kickstarter—thereby incentivizing onlookers to buy in. One creator promised to pour milk over his supposed mother’s breasts, but only once his coin reached a $300,000 valuation.

Meme coins have been around since 2013, when Dogecoin was released. But this year, the number of these coins in circulation has ballooned courtesy of Pump.Fun, a platform that lets people release new coins almost instantly, at no cost.

By some metrics, Pump.Fun is the fastest-growing crypto application ever, taking in an estimated $100 million in revenue—as a 1 percent cut of trades on the platform—since it launched in January. Two million unique meme coins have entered the market through Pump.Fun, Ayala’s coin among them.

The vast majority of these coins never get off the ground. Others attract early attention, then tank after the creator sells off their holdings without warning. A minority of the coins hold value over a longer period.

Meme coins serve no strict purpose other than to act as a vehicle for financial speculation. Fluctuations in their price are therefore a reflection almost entirely of the attention they attract—a collective belief, on whatever grounds, that the price will either rise or fall.

The forces behind the meme coin boom are similar to those that propelled the meme-stock craze of 2021, says Albert Choi, a law professor at the University of Michigan who has published research into meme stocks. Back then, amateur investors on Reddit began a short squeeze on the stock of GameStop and other out-of-favor companies; whereas in 2024, the circulation of viral posts in crypto circles on social media leads meme coins to surge in value. “As [people] recognize momentum building on social media, the strategy is to try to get on the wave before the surge actually takes place,” says Choi.

The potential gains and losses are amplified in crypto, says Choi, because meme coins float free of any fundamental value. Unlike stocks, whose value is in theory tied to the performance and prospects of an underlying company, meme coins have no anchor to prevent a free fall in price. “The problem with crypto is that, if we don’t know what the fundamental value is, what is going to be that opposing and corrective force?” he says.

Previously, the complexity and cost of development were the limiting factors preventing people from flooding the market with meme coins on the off chance they might become rich. But Pump.Fun has flipped that equation. “With platforms that allow individuals to launch meme coins with no coding expertise, the barrier to creating supply is basically nil,” says Kahlil Philander, an assistant professor at Washington State University who specializes in gambling. “Now, the ability to create awareness is what has gotten more expensive.”

The need among small-time meme coin creators to peacock for attention became even more acute when celebrities piled in. In May and June, Caitlyn Jenner, Andrew Tate, and Jason Derulo all released coins of their own.

Around that time, rapper Iggy Azalea put out a coin through Pump.Fun: MOTHER, which reached a $200 million valuation within two weeks. Azalea has promoted the coin relentlessly to her 7.7 million followers on X, through a flurry of provocative images and meme posts.

“I just say whatever I want to say and think is funny,” said Azalea, speaking to WIRED in June. “Part of my strategy is to stay in the conversation. I do like to bait, to troll, to say things that are a little provocative. I like to say things and move in ways that I know can be memeable.”

In a market crowded with hundreds of thousands of coins—including those belonging to Azalea and her celebrity peers—meme-coin creators are being driven to stunts of an ever-escalating lunacy to try to get people to choose their coin instead. “The stunting behavior and use of celebrity accounts is almost exactly the same thing,” says Philander. “It is a source of attention.”

Even the celebrities are struggling to hold the attention of meme-coin investors hungry for the next spectacle. MOTHER is now trading for a quarter of its peak price, despite Azalea’s attempt to create utility for the coin, which is now accepted as payment by a telecom startup in which she has a stake.

Meanwhile, Ayala is quietly plotting his comeback. The $DARE coin has long since lost any gains it made in the immediate wake of the accident, so he needs a way to revive interest in the project. His followers are counting on him.

“Mikol, what are the plans moving forward?” asked one member of the Telegram channel for the coin in August. “Take us to the moon.”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

WaPo's Philip Bump: State-endorsed violence is triumphing over left-aligned protests

Philip Bump at Washington Post:

I was in Florida in May 2021 when I saw a white Mini Cooper with two seemingly incongruous bumper stickers. One said, “I WILL NOT COMPLY” — a then-vogue sentiment as governments sought to mandate vaccines to fight the coronavirus pandemic. In a rear window, though, the car displayed a monochromatic American flag with one of the stripes rendered in blue. This, of course, is the graphical representation of the “Blue Lives Matter” mantra, an expression of support for the police that emerged as law enforcement began facing new criticism about the killing of Black civilians a decade ago. I will not comply … but I support our men and women in law enforcement.

It’s easy to carve out a realm where these sentiments are not at odds. The driver won’t comply with vaccine mandates but stands with the police as they do the hard work of subduing the real criminals. Or, to define the space where the sentiments are not at odds more simply: The driver adheres to a right-wing worldview in which state power is properly deployed against the left. For the driver, the law protects but doesn’t bind, as the saying has it. That was three years ago. In the period since, state power has gained a lot of ground against its long-standing adversaries’ criticism and protest. Last week, Texas Gov. Greg Abbott (R) took the unusual-for-him step of pardoning a man who was convicted of murder in a shooting death in Austin. The shooter, Daniel Perry, was driving in the city in July 2020 when he came across a protest criticizing the death of George Floyd at the hands of police in Minneapolis. Garrett Foster was part of the crowd and was carrying a rifle, which is legal in the state. Perry claimed that Foster aimed the weapon at him and that he fired in self-defense.

Others in the crowd denied that Foster raised his weapon. A jury determined that the killing was not justified and sentenced Perry to prison. They did so without even seeing some of the most striking evidence: text messages from Perry in which he expressed racist views and talked about shooting people who engaged in looting in the wake of the Floyd protests. (Foster, like Perry, was White.) But Abbott decided a pardon was in order, arguing that the state’s stand-your-ground law “cannot be nullified by a jury or a progressive district attorney.” Foster’s killing was rebuked by Texans but sanctioned by the state. In the wake of the protests in 2020 — an underrecognized challenge to state power from the left — other states attempted to build laws specifically to increase the costs of those protests. In Florida and Oklahoma, for example, the state legislatures passed and governors signed laws absolving drivers of some penalties if they struck protesters blocking roads.

[...] One of the widest partisan divides, meanwhile, was on “disrupting public events.” That divide was about as wide as the one on “establishing encampments.” Since the protests that unfolded in the summer of 2020, the largest widespread protest movement seen in the United States has been centered on the establishment of encampments on college campuses to protest Israel’s military incursion in Gaza. Most Americans expressed skepticism of those protests in polling released this month. In recent Fox News polling, though, a majority of Democrats expressed support for the protests while Republicans opposed them by more than a 5-1 margin. [...]

At many colleges, including New York's Columbia University, administrators agreed with the Republicans. Law enforcement was brought in to disrupt and remove encampments. That was true at Columbia, where the New York Police Department swept the campus more than once. The second and final sweep resulted in several students being hospitalized. Over the weekend, the NYPD again violently disrupted a protest. Officers were seen striking protesters participating in a pro-Palestinian event in Brooklyn, with police arguing that the response was needed because protesters were blocking the streets. The neighborhood’s City Council member told the New York Times that “from my vantage point, the response appeared preemptive, retaliatory and cumulatively aggressive.” [...]

The violent crackdown on the protests were sanctioned by the state. It is possible that the bumper sticker on that car I saw in Florida in 2021 was harrumphing not about an unwillingness to comply with the coronavirus vaccine but, instead, with the advent of a Democratic president. After all, the weeks after the 2020 election were awash in right-wing refusal to comply with the state power manifested in recognizing Joe Biden’s electoral victory. On Jan. 6, 2021, rioters supporting Donald Trump overwhelmed law enforcement and overtook the Capitol in a failed effort to redirect power back to the sitting president.

The response from Trump’s allies and the broader right has been illuminating. There was an immediate effort to rationalize the violence by comparing it to the protests that unfolded the previous summer, like the one at which Garrett Foster was killed. Or like the one after which teenager Kyle Rittenhouse shot and killed two men. (“Those who help, protect, and defend are the good guys,” Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) wrote on social media once Rittenhouse was acquitted of murder. “Kyle is one of good ones.”) Over the longer term, though, the right’s Capitol riot narrative — led by people like Greene — focused more heavily on the purported injustices those rioters had faced. Those who are incarcerated have been presented as “political prisoners,” rather than as violent criminals and, often people who’ve pleaded guilty to their offenses. In the vernacular of that Mini Cooper, these were honorable people refusing to comply, not criminals engaged in an unacceptable denial of how much blue lives matter.

Washington Post’s Philp Bump wrote a solid article on why left-leaning protests (pro-Palestine, pro-Black Lives Matter, etc.) are more likely to face state-sanctioned violent crackdown responses than right-leaning protests (anti-COVID mitigation measures, etc.)

[sweetbluume]

a lil about me :3

ㅤ♡ྀི nana ˚⟡˖ ࣪ INFP .☘︎ ݁˖ she/her

ㅤ♡ྀི Fav artists: AOA FKA Twigs Massive Attack BTS Charli XCX After School 9Muses SNSD HELLOVENUS Lana Del Rey Snow Strippers Crystal Kay Portishead Crystal Castles Slayyyter

ㅤ♡ྀི Likes: tokidoki unicornos rilakkuma fur hood zip ups vanilla cupcake scents juicy daydreamers pusheen guys with piercings viv westwoood X melissa heels beetle cars (esp in pink) CDs

ㅤ♡ྀི Hobbies: some sewing playing dress up journaling making playlists sims 4

ㅤ♡ྀི Fav movies/shows: Marie Antoinette (2006) The Florida Project The Bling Ring American Horror Story All About Lily Chou-Chou Priscilla

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠all of these supa cute graphics r by @dollywons𓊇ྀི

[newstfionline]

Friday, October 11, 2024

Millions are without power after Milton tore through Florida (NYT) Hurricane Milton carved an uneven path of destruction across Florida. It maintained hurricane-strength winds from its landfall on the Gulf Coast last night until its exit this morning into the Atlantic Ocean. Coastal neighborhoods were swallowed by storm surge, inland towns were flooded with rain and nearly three million homes and businesses—about a quarter of the state—remain without power. The storm also caused several intense tornadoes on Florida’s Atlantic coast that killed at least five people, including some in a retirement community. Two other hurricane-related deaths were confirmed, and emergency workers rescued hundreds of people from damaged buildings and flooded vehicles. But the densely populated Tampa Bay region appeared to have been spared from the worst-case projections of the storm’s potential damage.

FEMA spent nearly half its disaster budget in just 8 days (Politico) Eight days into the fiscal year, the federal government has spent nearly half the disaster relief that Congress has allocated for the next 12 months. The rapid spending—which is likely to accelerate as aid flows to states pulverized by Hurricanes Helene and Milton—soon will force the Federal Emergency Management Agency to restrict spending unless Congress approves additional funding [and Congress is in recess until the election]. FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell disclosed that as of Tuesday, FEMA had spent $9 billion of the $20 billion that Congress put in FEMA’s disaster fund Oct. 1 for the fiscal year that runs through Sept. 30, 2025.

For Lebanese Americans, calm at home is surreal as Israel strikes Beirut (Washington Post) Rashad Assir started a recent Monday with a 45-minute phone call in which his mother described how she had cracked open the windows of their family home in Lebanon to reduce the pressure wave from potential explosions. She was about to leave Beirut for the mountains in the north to try to escape Israeli airstrikes. Then Assir tuned in to a Zoom call to discuss the language and graphics for his tech company’s next marketing campaign. Assir, a Lebanese American tech worker based in New York, was in a state of disbelief about his different realities, he said. Several people of Lebanese descent in the United States, a community of at least 685,000 people, according to the 2020 Census, told The Washington Post that they are feeling a sense of dystopia and isolation from those around them. In recent weeks, Sara Harb-Fisher, 29, a Lebanese American nursing student from southern Mississippi, said she has been worrying about her “family in Lebanon that is being bombed.” “My day-to-day is overwhelming,” she said. “As I’m dropping my girls off at school, logging in to class or preparing lunch, I’m constantly wondering if my grandmother is still alive.”

They Flew 7,000 Miles to Fight Haiti’s Gangs. The Gangs Are on Top. (NYT) If the burned-out cars, bullet-riddled schools, demolished buildings and desolate streets in downtown Port-au-Prince weren’t enough evidence of the terrible things that happened here, someone left an even more ominous hint: skulls in the middle of the street. A human head propped up on a stick with another on the ground beside it in front of a government office was apparently intended as a menacing message from gang members to the Kenyan and Haitian police officers trying to restore order to Haiti: Beware, we rule these streets. A Kenyan police officer wearing a bulletproof vest and helmet and patrolling in an American armored personnel carrier took a photograph with his cellphone, while another maneuvered the vehicle around the skulls. The patrol offered a glimpse into the enormous challenges the Kenyan force faces in trying to wrest control of Port-au-Prince from armed groups that have unraveled life in the country, killing indiscriminately, raping women, burning neighborhoods and leaving hundreds of thousands hungry and in makeshift shelters.

Iranian covert operations in Europe (AP) According to the head of Britain’s national intelligence agency, the country is experiencing a “staggering rise” in assassination attempts, sabotage plans, and other crimes plotted by other countries. On Tuesday, MI5 Director General Ken McCallum revealed that his agency had stopped over 20 “potentially lethal” plots backed by the government of Iran over the past two years, and warned that Tehran might cook up even more plots if the conflict in the Middle East continues to grow. All of those plots targeted Iranians living abroad in the U.K., not British politicians or leaders.

North Korea says it will cut off all roads to the South (BBC) North Korea will sever road and railway access to South Korea from Wednesday in a bid to “completely separate” the two countries. Its military said the North would “permanently shut off and block the southern border” and fortify areas on its side. The Korean People’s Army (KPA) described the move as “a self-defensive measure for inhibiting war”, claiming it was in response to war exercises in South Korea and the frequent presence of American nuclear assets in the region. It marks an escalation of hostility at a time when tensions between the Koreas are at their highest point in years. The declaration is a largely symbolic step by Pyongyang. Roads and railways leading from North Korea to the South are rarely used, and have been incrementally dismantled by North Korean authorities over the past year.

Israel Fires on U.N. Peacekeepers (Foreign Policy) Israeli forces fired on several positions used by United Nations peacekeepers in southern Lebanon on Wednesday and Thursday. According to the Lebanese mission, known as UNIFIL, Israeli soldiers targeted its headquarters at Ras Naqoura, “hitting the entrance to the bunker where peacekeepers were sheltering, and damaging vehicles and a communications system.” Two peacekeepers from Indonesia were injured. “Any deliberate attack on peacekeepers is a grave violation of international humanitarian law,” UNIFIL said, adding that it was following up with the Israeli military, which also “deliberately fired at and disabled” U.N.-operated perimeter-monitoring cameras. Israel has not commented on the incidents. Israel has recently accused UNIFIL of failing in its mission by allowing Hezbollah to entrench itself along the Blue Line. Some Israeli operations have hit near U.N. Post 6-52, where 30 Irish UNIFIL peacekeepers remain stationed despite Israel warning them to evacuate.

Nearly a Million Civilians Flee War in Lebanon, U.N. Says (NYT) Hezbollah militants fired rockets at Israeli towns and fought ground battles with Israeli troops in southern Lebanon on Wednesday, as the United Nations warned that nearly a million Lebanese had fled the spreading war between Israel and Iranian-backed groups in the Middle East. In a sign of the war’s growing scale, Israeli evacuation orders now cover a quarter of Lebanon’s land area, according to the United Nations, which says the calls have sent people fleeing from more than a hundred villages and urban areas. More than 600,000 people of Lebanon’s 5.4 million have been displaced within the country, threatening to overwhelm shelters, U.N. officials warned, and 300,000 others have fled abroad. Half of Lebanon’s public schools have been turned into shelters, the aid group Save the Children said on Wednesday.

Doctors, Nurses and Paramedics: What We Saw in Gaza (NYT) Dr. Sidhwa is a trauma and general surgeon who worked at the European Hospital in Khan Younis, Gaza, for two weeks in March and April: I worked as a trauma surgeon in Gaza from March 25 to April 8. I’ve volunteered in Ukraine and Haiti, and I grew up in Flint, Mich. I’ve seen violence and worked in conflict zones. But of the many things that stood out about working in a hospital in Gaza, one got to me: Nearly every day I was there, I saw a new young child who had been shot in the head or the chest, virtually all of whom went on to die. Thirteen in total. At the time, I assumed this had to be the work of a particularly sadistic soldier located nearby. But after returning home, I met an emergency medicine physician who had worked in a different hospital in Gaza two months before me. “I couldn’t believe the number of kids I saw shot in the head,” I told him. To my surprise, he responded: “Yeah, me, too. Every single day.” Through personal contacts in the medical community and a good deal of searching online, I was able to get in touch with American health care workers who have served in Gaza since Oct. 7, 2023. 44 doctors, nurses and paramedics saw multiple cases of preteen children who had been shot in the head or chest in Gaza.

Adré snapshot: refugee camp life (Worldcrunch) In what is probably the world’s biggest refugee camp, the desert town of Adré, Chad, the refugees from Sudan exhibit a remarkable sense of dignity. Next to some of the huts, they have built from branches and plastic sheeting, flowers grow neatly in beds surrounded by bricks. There is hardly any rubbish on the muddy paths of the town. The people organize committees to clean the toilets, which are provided by aid organizations. People help one another. Anyone who has anything left from the far-too-small food rations shares it with the community—even if they are very hungry. That is what Sudanese culture dictates. And they have brought their culture with them to the neighboring country of Chad. Since the war between Sudan’s army and the Arab militia Rapid Support Forces (RSF) escalated 17 months ago, tens of thousands have been killed in the fighting. It is simultaneously the largest humanitarian crisis and the largest refugee crisis in the world; 10 million people have been displaced, and 2 million have moved to the already fragile neighboring countries. Chad, one of the poorest countries in the world, is bearing the greatest burden with 780,000 refugees.

With roads often blocked by rebels in Congo, boats are the only alternative (AP) The overcrowded boat that capsized in eastern Congo last week killed eight members of Serge Nzonga’s family along with 70 others. Days later, he was back on the same route that claimed their lives in yet another boat lacking safety measures. Nzonga and hundreds of other passengers, including Associated Press journalists, lined up at the seaport in Goma, eastern Congo’s largest city, getting ready to board a locally made boat bound for Bukavu city on the other side of Lake Kivu, a perilous journey they would rather undertake than travel Congo’s treacherous roads. The capsizing of overloaded boats is becoming increasingly frequent in this central African nation as more people are abandoning the few available roads for wooden vessels crumbling under the weight of passengers and their goods. The roads are often caught up in the deadly clashes between Congolese security forces and rebels that sometimes block major access routes. Hundreds have already been killed or declared missing in such accidents so far this year.

Virginia congressional candidate creates AI chatbot as debate stand-in for incumbent (Reuters) After Don Beyer, a Democratic congressman in Virginia, declined to agree to any further election debates before November—Bentley Hensel, a software engineer and long-shot independent candidate in the race, is planning instead to debate an AI chatbot that he has created. DonBot, as the AI is playfully known, is being trained on Beyer’s official websites, press releases, and data from the Federal Election Commission. The debate, slated to stream October 17 online, will pit Hensel and David Kennedy, another independent, against DonBot.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Fifteen: Getaway

Summary- 2.8k Curtis Everett x Plus!sized Reader. Christmas is here and having decided to cash in on Edgar's apology gift, you both head to a holiday getaway along the edge of the remote lake. The cabin is everything you had hoped for and you both settle right into the cozy place.

Warnings- Reader thinking about her abusive ex.

A/N- its a soft short sweet chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, commenting and sharing. You all are why this story continues. Thank you to @what-is-your-plan-today for taking the time out of your busy holiday schedule to read this over. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

A/N 2- Tumblr won't let me post this chapter, no matter what edits I make. So I will link the AO3 link below if you wish to read. I'm so sorry everyone.

Chapter Fourteen / Masterlist

That morning flew, and the two of you finally got out of bed and functioning enough to pack the car for the days at the cabin. Making a brief trip to pick up his truck and park it at the house, you two finally hit the road. 

The drive to the cabin followed along Lake Superior, giving the two of you a beautiful snowy scenic drive that Christmas Eve, on the way there you took pictures of the lake, all wild with busted ice and small waves, boats still fishing quite a way out from the shoreline. You were sure to send the photos to your sister. Jade in return sent you sunny beach pictures from where she took Mary for the day, making you feel a bit envious of all the sun and sand. You were sure to show Curtis who commented that it looked like Jade, Frank and Mary were in a paradise, although you both agreed that Christmas needed some snow. 

On the way there, you had Curtis stop at a small local grocery store to pick up a few day's worth of food for the two of you, having meals planned for at least three days worth, including a nice bottle of champagne for the two of you to share in the hot tub.

Pulling up to the cabin in the dying light around mid-afternoon, you retracted your statement about Florida looking like a paradise. Snow had built up on the sides of the quaint cabin, closing it in from the cold wind, big towering pines covered the area behind the cabin and in the distance, you could see the lake views you had heard about back when you booked the cabin on the phone. Set up on the cabin's wall were several pairs of snowshoes to be used, sleds and a snow shovel should the need arise. Stepping out of the car, you admired the scene before you. “Okay, this is a lot nicer than I expected.

Curtis followed you, leaning against the open car door to take in the whole scene. “Looks like something right out of a Hallmark movie.” He exclaimed as he shut the door and popped the trunk to grab the bags. “Wanna go in and check it out, I will have this stuff unloaded quickly.” He offered and you grabbed a special bag from the backseat before he could grab it, making your way up the steps. As you stepped onto the porch you saw small touches where the company had decorated the cabin, strands of lights wrapped around the porch, and a light-up frosty sitting near the door holding a welcome sign. A large beautiful wreath woven with holly berries and ribbon was hanging off the door. Trying the handle, it was unlocked and you flicked on the lights inside to see it was modestly decorated as well on the inside. It made you feel better about celebrating Christmas away from home. Tucking the bag you carried away in the front closet, you slipped off boots and jacket while you looked around.

Curtis came in with an armload of bags that he sat down, glancing around quickly. “We are going to have a cozy holiday Honey.”

The downstairs floor plan was all open, the kitchen area was modest but it led right into a rather large sitting area that was equipped with a stone fireplace, and floor to ceiling windows to the back deck where the hot tub was tucked into a corner under an awning to keep the snow from covering the seating area.

The view, well it was stunning in the winter, you could only imagine the view of the lake in the summertime. There was a set of stairs that led into a loft that must be the bedroom and there was a bathroom tucked off from the seating area.

It was simple overall, but beautiful and just what you had hoped for. You even spotted a small tree tucked near the fireplace, a Christmas tree for you and Curtis to use.

“It is stunning, I’m so glad we are spending Christmas here.” You paused at the kitchen counter to check out the gift basket that was left for them- filled with Hillshire sausage, cheeses, crackers, nuts, candy and fruit spreads. Tucked among the goodies was a happy holiday note that included some basic rules and how-to’s for stuff like the fireplace and hot tub. Curtis went back out to grab the last of it while you grabbed the bags for the loft and started upstairs.

The loft had A-frame ceilings and a railing at the end where it was open to looking down into the seating area and then again the views were just as stunning as promised from upstairs. You set the bags down near the dresser and went to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling it was nice and plush while still having the right amount of firmness. From below you heard Curtis come back into the cabin and then the soft padding of him coming up the stairs to look around the loft, giving another low whistle when he saw the view from the landing. The lake here was mostly frozen at this point, the sky turning a deep pink and purple in twilight hues while the ice and snow put off a silverish blue hue.

“How's the bed?” He asked as you twisted to your side, patting the spot next to you.

“Come see, I think it's comfy.” You remarked as he fell down next to you, with all the pillows, he could half sit up, still seeing the outside from where he was laying and then looking at you.“I’m really liking this Y/N.”

You scooted over closer to lay your head on his chest. “Me too, I could really just stay in bed for the next couple of days after this school trimester.”

“You know I will have no issue with that.” Curtis’s hand swept along your side to settle on your hip, tucking you in close against him. You two lay like that for a little while enjoying one another's company before you stirred to get up.

“I gotta go take care of those groceries and make something to eat. I'm starving.” You stretched to get the kinks out and Curtis got up as well. Following you downstairs, you started unpacking the groceries while he went to get a fire started in the fireplace.

Soon the small space was warming with the small crackling fire and you set your phone up to a Bluetooth speaker you had brought, playing Christmas music on low while you started dicing some cheeses to add to your snack board that you were putting together, making sure to add the different stuff from the gift basket that was left for them.

“Anything I can do to help?” Curtis came over with a brush of his hands on his pants to get rid of any soot from the fireplace and you gave it some thought.

“You can pull out that Christmas tree from the corner and get it lit up? It is Christmas Eve and Santa has to leave some gifts under it.” Curtis flashed a smirk, recalling the Santa hat from this morning and you leveled him a look. “You putting yourself under the tree?”

“I don’t know, have you been a good girl?” He remarked as he worked on doing as you asked, his comment made you laugh. You sorted through the rest of the basket of goodies left for you, dicing up a couple of apples to go with the soft caramel that was left as a dip as well as spreading mixed nuts across the board. There were some special rum-filled homemade chocolates that you eagerly added to your board. The last thing you added was a piece of honeycomb you brought from home, smiling at how nice it all looked. A nice mix of everything, you carried it out to the seating area that Curtis now had more intimately set up.

The couch was now facing the fireplace with the tree nearby adding a soft glow to the room. Currently, he was rearranging a few of the ornaments to make the tree glisten just right. You took this opportune moment to snap another picture of the whole scene laid out before you, ending it with a Merry Christmas, Love You, and Skype in the morning to your sister and parents.

Humming softly to the music playing, you set the board down on a nearby table and joined Curtis, looking at the small ornaments scattered among the tree. It was easy to tell that they were ones that could be found in any store, glass balls, snowmen, Santa's, and other Christmassy themed pieces, but you were absolutely smitten with the small tree.

“Do we count this as our first tree?” Curtis asked and you shrugged, circling around his waist.

“I would say so, we will make it officially our first tree on Christmas Day.” You stated while pulling up to place a soft affectionate kiss in a thank you to his mouth. Curtis's hand cupped your cheek, thumb sweeping against the curve of your jaw while smiling against your lips.

“Merry Christmas Eve Honey.” He pulled you away from the tree to go settle on the couch.

“So tell me, did you have any holiday traditions for tonight?” You tucked your feet up under you while Curtis got comfortable next to you.

“Well as a kid, Ella would come over and spend the night on Christmas Eve, Grandpa always made a big deal of it, we would have a massive tree in the living room where the tv now sits. Ella and I would be awake half the night waiting for Santa. Come morning Grandpa was awake before we were and would come busting into my bedroom getting us out of bed. Grammy would be downstairs with Ella’s mom, Lisa, waiting for us to come down. Looking back on it, they were probably up a good chunk of the night waiting on us to fall asleep.” Curtis chuckled at the memory. “Now it's more laid back.”

“Your grandparents sound like they were so much fun.” You always loved when he discussed them, even though they were now memories, you could tell how important they were to Curtis. “Did Wilford like to catch Lillian under the mistletoe?”

“Every chance he could. Gram would be in the kitchen half the time, she LOVED baking, and she was always sending batches of cookies and bread to people around the neighborhood. Grandpa hung the mistletoe up in that hallway that leads to the garage, she was always running back and forth past that entranceway so he would snag her.”

That made you laugh, easily seeing the older couple playing, in the same way, Curtis often did, so spur of the moment and out of nowhere.

“Christmas was special, they made it special for Ella and me. If I was to ever have kids, I would want to give the same to them and Sophia.” He said, both of you reaching to snack on the charcuterie board you put together.

“What about your family? Just from what I know of your mom, I can imagine what yours was.”

“Right now I expect their Christmas Eve party is in full swing. You ever see Christmas With The Kranks?”

“Umm… Yes? That Tim Allen and Jamie Lee Curtis flick on Netflix?”

You nodded affirming it. “Only both of them are into it, you know? So matching sweaters, all the neighbors and their families were invited. Way too much food and booze. Big Christmas tree that they pile a bunch of gifts under for the kids at the party to unwrap, some games going. They spend a small fortune on it, but they really love it. Typically, the party would wind down around midnight, then they would set up for Christmas morning. But this year, I don’t really know. It’s just the two of them.” You shrugged. “I will be skyping with them in the morning, they wanted to talk at least and I figured I would show them the cabin.”

“I will be sure to be decent.” Curtis winked at you and you chuckled, biting into a cracker you had some cheese and honey smeared onto.

“You don’t have to be decent on my account.” You giggled while leaning into Curtis’s side, his arm slinging over your shoulder as you both gazed at your first Christmas tree.

You two told more childhood stories, the late hour making you both drift closer together. Curtis’s hand rubbed lightly up and down your side to settle against your waist. It was such a content feeling being with him, Curtis had no expectations of you, you didn’t have to spend half the night wrapping useless gifts for tomorrow, have to dress a certain way, or be expected to interact with people you didn’t even know. It was just the two of you. 

You tried to keep it from your mind, the thought of your last Christmas with Jake. How he needed you ‘presentable for the company’s party.’ Picking out your clothes and getting mad at you when everything he chose from your closet was just a bit too snug on you. The dress you had spent a small fortune on for this particular party simply wasn’t good enough. “You can’t wear that Y/N, this is supposed to be a formal occasion.” The velvet green holiday dress sat unused in your closet. You were so tired at that point, just letting him have his way all the time and you had stopped trying to defend yourself. You went to the party that night in a backless number that was so tight, you didn’t dare wander from the wall, not wanting anyone to see the unflattering shape of your body squeezed into the too small dress, especially with the open back that showed the rolls.

You had never felt so low in your life as you did that Christmas Eve put on display by Jake.

“Hey, where did you go Honey?” a smooth baritone that made you blink at the Christmas tree in surprise, not even realizing you had drifted that far into the memory. Curtis had a concerned look, the small indent on his forehead where his brows came together, his eyes searching yours for an unspoken answer. Jake was clearly the past and you much more firmly pushed him out. He wasn’t going to ruin another holiday, not for you ever again. “Thinking, which is proving to be dangerous.” You lightened up, a small smile making him ease his features.

“Clearly.” Curtis didn’t push for an answer any further. His hand dropped from your shoulder to your waist, fingers digging in slightly to hold onto you a little more. “We're gonna have to fix that though.” The warmth of his hand brushed against your face to tilt you towards him.

“I know how.” Your fingers drift up to brush against his bristled chin and tilt upwards to reach him, pressing your lips to his.

It was so gentle at first, a fluttering of your breaths had Curtis going for another, not wanting to let you get too far away from him. Your lips parted and a slip of his tongue had you forgetting all about what was taking up your mind earlier. All it was about was how Curtis pressed you into him, your body sinking against his warm hard one, making you crave more. Your other hand shot up to hold onto his face, the burn of his beard scratching at your palms while he tugged you across him, hands gripping from your waist to your ass, kneading his hands into your cheeks to arch you up, leaning into his chest. It was only when the fevered kiss broke, both of you panting did you loosen some of your hold, cupping your hands along his jawline.

“I want to give you your gift now Curtis, but I got to go get it ready. Wait for me down here?”

“You want to exchange now?” He let himself relax back on the couch while you were perched in his lap. Pushing yourself up to a sit, your hands found them running against the hard planes of his pecs, biting on your lip a bit nervously.

“No, this is… it is a special gift. Meant for tonight.”

You wondered if he could sense how nervous it made you, as well as excited. You had really wanted to give him this and this trip, well it seemed like the right time for it. If he did, he didn’t let on. An encouraging nod and smile came from him, one last playful squeeze to your ass.

“Of course Honey, take all the time you need. I will get the fire banked in the fireplace and lock up.” As a thank you, you pressed one last kiss to his lips and untwisted yourself from Curtis to head up the stairs to the loft, leaving him behind on the couch to wonder what you were up to.