#Electronic Message Centers

[aacesignco]

Electronic Message Centers: Revolutionizing Business Signage

In today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world, businesses are constantly seeking innovative ways to capture attention and communicate effectively with their audience. Electronic Message Centers (EMCs) have emerged as a dynamic solution to meet these needs, offering versatility, engagement, and real-time updates. This blog delves into the benefits and applications of EMCs, and why they are becoming an essential tool for modern businesses.

What are Electronic Message Centers?

Electronic Message Centers are digital displays that use LED technology to showcase messages, advertisements, and information. Unlike traditional static signs, EMCs can be programmed to display a variety of content, including text, images, animations, and videos. This flexibility allows businesses to convey multiple messages and update their content instantly based on current promotions, events, or important announcements.

Benefits of Electronic Message Centers

Dynamic Content Display: One of the most significant advantages of EMCs is their ability to display dynamic content. Businesses can easily change messages, images, and videos to keep their audience engaged. This capability is particularly useful for promoting special offers, sales events, or new products. The ability to rotate messages ensures that your display remains fresh and relevant, capturing the attention of passersby.

Real-Time Updates: EMCs allow for real-time updates, which is crucial for businesses that need to communicate timely information. For instance, a restaurant can update its menu specials or operating hours, while a retail store can announce flash sales or store events. The ease of updating content means businesses can respond quickly to changing conditions or customer needs.

Enhanced Visibility: The bright, high-resolution displays of EMCs ensure high visibility, even in low-light conditions or adverse weather. This makes them highly effective for attracting attention from a distance and standing out in a crowded marketplace. Their ability to display vibrant colors and moving graphics further enhances their impact.

Cost-Effective Advertising: While the initial investment in an EMC may be higher than traditional signage, the long-term benefits often outweigh the costs. With EMCs, businesses can avoid the recurring expenses of printing and installing new signs. The flexibility to change messages digitally means that businesses can adapt their advertising strategies without additional costs.

Increased Engagement: Interactive features and engaging content displayed on EMCs can drive customer interaction. For example, businesses can run social media promotions, interactive polls, or contests that encourage audience participation. This not only enhances customer engagement but also fosters a sense of community around the brand.

Applications of Electronic Message Centers

Retail Stores: Retailers can use EMCs to showcase promotions, sales, and new arrivals. The ability to update content frequently ensures that customers are always informed about the latest offers. Additionally, EMCs can be used to highlight customer testimonials or loyalty program updates.

Restaurants: For restaurants, EMCs can display daily specials, menu items, and nutritional information. The visual appeal of moving graphics can entice customers and create a more inviting atmosphere.

Educational Institutions: Schools and universities can use EMCs to communicate important announcements, event schedules, and emergency alerts. The ability to display educational content and news updates helps keep students, staff, and visitors informed.

Event Venues: Event venues can utilize EMCs to promote upcoming events, ticket availability, and venue information. The versatility of EMCs allows for creative and eye-catching displays that enhance the overall event experience.

Public Information: EMCs in public spaces can provide important information such as weather updates, public transportation schedules, and emergency alerts. Their visibility ensures that critical information reaches a wide audience effectively.

Conclusion

Electronic Message Centers represent a significant advancement in signage technology, offering businesses a powerful tool to communicate dynamically and effectively. With their ability to display engaging content, provide real-time updates, and enhance visibility, EMCs are an invaluable asset for any business looking to make a strong impression and stay connected with their audience. As technology continues to evolve, the potential applications and benefits of EMCs will only grow, solidifying their role as a cornerstone of modern business signage. For more details visit our website: www.a-acesignco.com

[captivatingsignsusnaperville]

Dynamic Electronic Message Center Signs in Naperville – Elevate Your Business Visibility!

Boost your business presence with custom Electronic Message Center (EMC) signs from Captivating Signs in Naperville! These eye-catching, dynamic signs offer a powerful way to deliver real-time messages, promotions, and announcements to your audience. Whether you want to share special offers, business hours, or community updates, our electronic message boards provide unmatched versatility and visibility.

At Captivating Signs, we specialize in designing and installing high-quality, customizable EMC signs that capture attention day and night. Stand out from the competition and make a lasting impression with vibrant digital signage tailored to your business needs.

Ready to elevate your brand? Contact Captivating Signs today and let us bring your vision to life with cutting-edge electronic message center signs!

[nellynee]

Dear Hazbin Hotel Fandom (with special note for reader insert fic writers at bottom)

Been thinking about Hazbin and like, economy, and infrastructure, and fucking culture in hell. And I like to imagine that earth is like, modern age if not a bit further into the future, and Hell is just so far behind

And I see most writers attribute this to old powers that be more or less forcing people to adhere to their affections, but I feel like it's so much more complex than that.

Like if there's any kind of infrastructure in place, like say, oh IDK utilities, that infrastructure in modern times relies very heavily on established modern infrastructure built before it, and a certain degree of cultural niceties to leave it alone, as well as all the means in terms of sourcing labor, resources, and cold hard cash for its construction and continued upkeep.

Which is near impossible in a place like hell. A place where at least once a year, the ritual killing of the masses leads to huge turf wars set to destroy said infrastructure. In such a every man for himself society, who's making sure these roads aren't full of potholes and the lights stay on?

Which leads to a very easy answer, Overlords. This is why Overlords own millions of souls. It's the expected currency for stability. Overlords oversee a certain degree of infrastructure, normalization of life. Depending on your deal, Overlords might guarantee a base degree of normalcy in exchange for souls. Like you might get better rental opportunities in areas where the buildings aren't likely to be torn down regularly. You get running water and electricity, books and other entertainment, access to better food, security during large scale danger events (including the exterminations) ect. And refusing to sell your soul could severely limit opportunities. Imagine if everyone is born into poverty, and you are only allowed the chance to access middle class jobs, houses, ect if you cut off a finger. Everyone does it, you aren't using it anyways, and your life gets significantly easier if you do....

But yeah I think people who write for the fandom are seriously understating the actual affects the lack of a central government probably has on the different areas of the city, and what it actually means to be an Overlord, and why things work the way they do.

Like I am 1000% sure there's no mail in hell. Like mailmen and carriers and an organization system. Unless an Overlord was particularly invested in it... No I think for a very long time long distance communication took place through hired help. People specifically paid for or in one's employ to carry personal missives on an immediate basis as needed. Delivery men. This is why Vox's electronics are such a hit. It provides a degree of luxury unknown to the masses before this; or known of and since lost and have nostalgia for.

I also firmly believe that this is still how Overlords and influentials communicate. Vox's infrastructure is convenient, but it would require seceeding a degree of independence powerful people can't afford to give up. You can order one of your souls to take a message and others to protect them, but to use a phone is to put your communication network in the hands of someone else, and a potential enemy at that.

Lack of infrastructure aside, I also don't want to understate the effects of only a certain percentage of the populace being present has. 100% of the people dropping into hell can know what a blender is, but if not a single souls who drops down knows how one works, then hell just straight up doesn't have blenders. Which is another factor into a lot of the lingering old timey feel of Hell. Technology has to be invented on earth, then become popularized enough that the knowledge of its creation beats out the numbers dropping into hell and it can be made. Not to mention someone has to be interested enough to let it be made in the first place. This is why some Overlords center around such singular niches. They were passionate enough to teach themselves in life the knowledge needed to build that particular luxury from scratch. Even if it had been decades since development in earth, the knowledge just doesn't migrate well.

I also imagine this having a huge impact on the entertainment industry. Lots of writers go on about old songs but not one has the guts to claim an artists is in hell and still making their art in hell

Can you imagine the cutthroat industry developed around having to claw your way up through hundreds of years of new music and nostalgia when your own fan base is still mostly on earth and the other artists have had centuries or decades to establish themselves?

Which brings me to my last and most important point..... Shoes. Well, shoes and clothing, and mass production.

It just ain't fucking happening in Hell.

One, in sure the Pride ring is getting some of their commerce from other rings. I'm talking consumables. Textiles and food. This is also a city spanning millions of people, and what hydroponics isn't used to grow pot is probably being sponsored by Overlords to grow produce for their souls. Which means some production but not nearly enough to feed the city. Which means food probably looks like a large majority of people eating hell based produce from outside the ring, with dedicated smuggling rings (like what we see with IMP, travelers who bring earth commerce home, I'm guessing Lust ring Incu/Sucubi looking for side gigs) bringing back seeds, cuttings, and cultural touchstones like movies, books, and music to be mass copied and distributed. Those living in certain areas or with the right amount of cash can pay for produce grown from that smuggled earth produce.

Meat is predominantly hell born in nature, probably produced from Wrath, and Sloth's oceans, with an uncomfortably large supplemental of cannibalistic meat being corpses harvested by street folk and sold to butchers for cheap, cooked and sold Sweeney Todd style. I do think Cannibalism is far more widespread and normalized than most are comfortable thinking, for practical reasons. There are just so many dedicated cannibals in the colony alone...look, there is neither space for cows nor a means to get them down there.

In any case, clothing.

This is a huge pet peeve for me in fics because I don't think anyone really thinks this one through, the sheer volume of the fashion industry in its infrastructure and how much of that Hell is lacking

Not to even mention that everyone is hell is shaped weird. Head to toe. Weird bodies all the time. Everywhere.

I just don't think mass produced clothing is a thing. Or at least nearly a refined as earth. Off the rack shit is probably very plain, and very vaguely shaped. Lots of missing sleeves, wide arm holes, drawstrings and buttons. The bare minimum. The cloth equivalent of fig leaves. Pride based clothing outlets, if there is any mass production, probably base their shapes a lot of Imps and Hellhounds and mostly humanoid with four limb, just to have a consistent customer base and hope they get lucky with hellborn. You probably have to pay to have a pattern made for your body and then have basic shit seen up from there or learn to do it yourself. Lots of people earning side cash sewing garbage clothes for cheap. Dudes with a bunch of ink and a screen printing custom graphic tees from their apartment making bank.

And don't even get me started on shoes. Most people have hooves or paws, and if they don't have that, there's a sizable chance they won't even have feet. There just isn't mass produced shoes. There physically can't be. There is no consistency in size. It is literally not possible.

All to say, sewing is probably a pretty valuable skill to have. Tailors and cobblers are probably both valued jobs and incredibly necessary. It's also probably pretty damn expensive. Which is actually why we don't see a lot of shoes, and why some folks are strange about clothes. It's just not practical anymore. And it's wildly expensive. Why go through the bother of getting a tailor or cobbler to make time and then get charged through the nose for something that might get destroyed or stolen soon anyways?

Which brings me to my special comment

Dear Reader insert writers. Specifically the Reader/Alastor crew, but this is pretty blanket

Unless your OC, or the clothing, is a very specific shape, Angel is not loaning your OC nothing in terms of textiles. Think real hard about whether your OC's feet will fit into one of his custom made boots... Really think about it. The love is there, but it's Hell. Let your OC struggle with everything. They can't get housing because everywhere outside an Overlord's domain is full and they can't rent without trading their soul to an overlord. They have trouble finding non human meat or palatable produce or even coffee. Their clothes are coming apart at the seams and laundry mats don't exist. Its hell, it's hard, and it's not made for them. If Angel ends them anything, it's gonna fit like a nightmare or be secondhand from another hooker and look like it. And it's going to be expensive AF

This is especially for you Alastor shippers. Textiles work a lot closer to how it functioned in his time than ours. In fact it probably functions closer to Rosie's time than his. And something I need you to remember is courting etiquette. Because I often see this overlooked. The best example I have for this is the song "baby it's cold outside", which viewed through the modern lense sounds like a creepy preamble to that poor woman being accosted, but in the lense of the time period it was written, is seen a feminine strong song, a woman using the tools available of her time to openly flirt and accept an offer to stay overnight. And while most people remember that Al comes from a time where gifting is used to show affection, I don't think they remember why that is. Like yes, there can be, and probably should be, a certain degree of possessiveness involved, given where we are and who we are talking about. But we must remember that this was a time period before women could divorce their husbands in the US. These gifts had social meaning. Women couldn't own property, were discouraged from jobs after settling down, and just didn't have the means to care for themselves. Expensive clothing and jewels were a statement. It told the community that the husband could, and did, provide for his wife financially. It gave the woman tangible items that, if properly cared for, would provide her with capital enough that should her husband die before her, he could be her only husband, that she wouldn't be forced to remarry. It a statement of of societal expectation, but also of how much he cared for her well being. And this is an aspect I see missing from Alastor's commentary. Yes there is a magical aspect of protection often employed, but he doesn't lavish his beau with Fur coats and hand crafted hats with obnoxiously bejeweled pins and easily displayed but hard to care for items that are as much a declaration of love in value as they are in attention. The closest I've ever seen is the fics by corruptedteacups, in which the flapper set gifted to the MC is described just as much in its beauty as the sheer quality of the fabric and beading involved. It feels substantial and expensive.

Just a small fandom peeve of mine, but some desperately needed context and depth I hope people think on.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

A/N: I had this idea back in December when Alex was playing with the Marlies. He led the team in an incredible comeback after being down 3-0 against Bakersfield, finishing the night with five points—two assists, three goals, and the OT winner completed the hat trick.

I started wondering… what if Loren showed up at his game one afternoon—completely unprompted, just because she wanted to support him? Would that mean something to Alex? Would it affect him in a way he didn't expect?

I had so much fun writing this, and I hope there’s an audience out there for it. ❤️ *Note - as much as I try to keep real events aligned with dates and such, I realize that Ella Nylander was already in TO at the time but kept that fact out for the sake of the story.

Warnings - profanity, high level description during a hook-up (not terribly detailed smut), allusions to Loren and William in bed.

18+ only please.

Word count - 7k

Loren approached the usher at the entrance to the stands at Coca-Cola Coliseum, the home arena for the Toronto Marlies - the farm team for the Maple Leafs.

She showed the electronic ticket on her phone with her seat number. “Row CC - straight down to ice level…you’ll see a lot of the action - great view. Enjoy the game and let me know if you have any questions.”

Loren thanked him and began descending down the metal steps which creaked and shifted slightly with every step. She felt the energy and excitement in the air of the arena as she slipped into her seat by the glass. She was the lone person in her row at that moment, the coldness of the seat and the chill from the ice’s surface had her zipping up her vest and adjusting her knitted cream turtleneck.

William had left for Detroit the day before and told her to stay at the condo, take it easy - try to enjoy a rare weekend to herself. But sleeping in his bed without him had only made her miss him more. She decided to head home after lunch on Saturday, but as she merged onto the northbound Don Valley Parkway, she had a spur-of-the-moment idea and decided to go to see Alex (Nylander) and the Marlies play that afternoon instead. Taking the first viable exit off the parkway, she entered the address of the arena into her GPS at a traffic light. She decided not to even let Alex know she was coming - she would send him a congratulatory text or one with words of support afterward once she arrived home, depending on the outcome.

As she settled into her seat, Loren took another glance around the arena, her gaze lifting to the banners in the rafters and the large video screen hanging over center ice. William played here once. The thought crossed her mind as she imagined him at eighteen—this gorgeous, fresh-faced, highly touted rookie as he stepped onto this very ice. He had always been confident, that much she knew, but she wondered, aside from the hockey aspect, how he truly felt back then, navigating his life as a young player in a city like Toronto.

Smiling to herself, she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick selfie—her seat by the glass, trying to angle the shot to capture the Marlies emblem at centre ice. She sent it to William - no caption, no explanation - just a photo.

The response was almost immediate.

William: Beautiful ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 are you at Alex’s game?

Loren grinned, pulling her phone out of her pocket again.

Loren: Yes - I decided to come watch him at the last minute. I was actually going home because I miss my boys so much…but I turned around when I got the idea to come watch Alex play.

There was a pause—just long enough that she could picture him considering the words in her message.

William: That’ll mean a lot to him. Does he know ur there?

Loren: No - I didn’t want to bother him…he’ll be coming out soon for warm-ups so maybe he’ll see me. Snagged first row - I can’t even get first row to see you 😝😘

William: I’d be too distracted seeing you in the first row ❤️‍🔥🫠🥴

Loren: It would be distracting since I’d be in heat and licking the glass the entire time 🤤🫦

There was another pause, he was typing, then he would stop and start again.

William: Fuck, you really are the best. Please don’t go home afterward….it’ll be late but I really hope you’ll be there in bed when i get back.

Loren: I can hardly wait…have a good game. will be thinking about you.

She knew they could just go on and on with messaging so William just responding with another heart-on-fire emoji.

She slipped her phone back in her pocket, barely realizing her perma-grin that she was wearing. William had this way of making her feel like she could levitate. The warmth she felt from their brief exchange cut through the chill in the arena far better than her chunky turtleneck did.

Loren looked around at all the spectators starting to file into their seats. Kids started to line up along the class with some handmade signs for their favourite players - smaller scale than what she had witnessed at Leaf games but no less endearing. The energy in the atmosphere was building and there were moments where she felt just as excited to be there as she is when she sees William play.

With the bass pounding and the laser show flashing, the announcer riled up the crowd as the Marlies players began filing onto the ice, followed by Bakersfield, the opposing team. Her eyes darted around as she scanned the sea of jerseys and helmets. It wasn’t long before they landed on the jersey number 92, who was skating hard around the corners, a look of absolute focus on his face.

He skated past her spot in the stands, and Loren figured he hadn’t seen her. Her gaze trailed after him for a moment before shifting to a few other players she recognized. But when she glanced back, searching for Alex again, she caught him mid-lap—just as he turned his head and nearly collided with Alex Steeves. Both players stumbled, their skates catching awkwardly on the ice. He stopped abruptly, his skates gripping the ice as his brows furrowed, focusing on her and processing her presence. As he approached the glass, she gave him a small wave and an easy smile, mouthing, “Hi.”

Alex grinned, a mix of surprise and delight lighting up his expression. He shook his head slightly, as if to say, What are you doing here? Loren smiled and shrugged, pointing to the ice, mouth: to watch you play.

Alex was touched. He had never even thought of asking if she’d ever want to come to a Marlies game. And he liked Loren - he always had. They got along well and occasionally bantered back and forth but there was a part of him that felt something else whenever she was around. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable - unsettling maybe? Not about who Loren was - he knew she was good to the core. But still - it was something he noticed, this vague feeling that he could never put his finger on it, but it wasn’t hidden enough for him to shake entirely.

As warmups continued, Loren noticed some of Alex’s teammates lining up along the glass and seemingly sneaking glances her way, nudging each other and laughing under their breath. She pretended not to notice, keeping her attention on Alex as he shot pucks at the net. He barely looked her way again, but she knew he was aware of her. His strides were longer, his shots harder. And when he lingered near her side of the ice, stretching, working his edges, it wasn’t an accident.

Some of the players were flipping pucks over the glass towards a group of young fans. A boy near Loren, not more than 9 or 10 approached her with a puck that he had just caught, and offered it to her.

Loren’s eyes went wide with appreciation, sweetly declining the offer.

“Oh my gosh, no….you keep this, but I really appreciate the offer! Thank you so much…that was very kind of you,” Loren smiling.

Alex laughed as he watched the reaction of the boy walk away grinning like an idiot as he approached his friends. If he was being honest, he didn’t blame the boy one bit.

As warmups concluded and the players all filed off the ice, Loren settled back down in her seat. She flagged down a vendor selling drinks and popcorn, and watched as her food was passed along towards her, promptly thanking her seat “neighbours” for obliging.

Once the game began, it was clear Loren was not bringing the Marlies any kind of luck. She tried not to be superstitious or think that because of her mere attendance that day, that she could set the entire tone for the game. Still, Toronto being down 3-0 by the end of the first wasn’t what she had hoped for.

The second and third periods made up for the abysmal start to the game. Bakersfield answered the first Marlies goal by scoring two more. But Alex clapped back and potted one in the net edging the game closer in scoring. What no one knew is that after the 5th Bakersfield goal, the Marlies would own the rest of the game.

With the game tied at the end of the third, heading into overtime, Alex had scored twice, and had two secondary assists.

Once OT had begun and bolstered by their amazing comeback to tie the game, the Marlies, and Alex specifically, had a dogged determination apparent to every spectator in the stands.

Over three minutes in, Loren was on the edge of her seat as she watched Alex hit an opposing player, then take off up the middle of the ice. United with the rest of the fan base, Loren could feel the roar increasing as the Marlies pushed down in to the offensive zone. With a teammate on his left, Alex took the pass keeping his stride, skating straight toward the goalie. Loren, along with everyone around her, shot to her feet as Alex veered right. A smooth backhand—perfectly placed—and just like that, the puck hit the back of the net. OT winner. Hat trick. First star of the game.

Loren chatted briefly with her seat neighbours before they began the ascent up the stairs towards the exit. Loren wasn’t in a rush as she hadn’t figured out what was in store for her for the rest of the night. Yes, she was staying in the city but there were hours before she would be ready to crawl into William’s bed. She considered texting Alice—Simon Benoit’s partner—to see if she and baby Adelaide were up for a little late-night fun. But, as Loren soon found out, both Alice and Adelaide were down for the count with a virus that had been making the rounds, for the second time that season. Although Alice texted she would love for Loren to come and keep her company, they both knew that Loren couldn’t risk transmitting to those she supported in the group home.

A woman’s voice called out to her. “Loren?”

Loren smiled, but she did not recognize the woman who called her name. “Hi, yes - I’m Loren.”

“Nice to meet you. Alex wanted me to try and catch you before you left. Sorry - I’m Kate Bascom, Media Manager for the team.”

Loren’s eyes flashed with recognition. “So nice to meet you, Kate. Alex wants to see me?”

“He asked that I bring you down the tunnel - they’ll be doing their media availability soon so I’ll find a spot for you to sit and wait for him, okay?”

“Oh - okay, sounds good. Thank you so much,” Loren blushed.

Loren followed Kate as she lead the way through the twists and turns of the corridors leading towards the lockers.

As they walked, Loren hesitated, her steps slowing. The last thing she needed was people jumping to conclusions about her and Alex. Explaining the truth felt almost worse—because once people started talking, through all the available forums for gossiping, it would be out in universe forever.

It was as though Kate could read Loren’s mind as they walked. “So Alex mentioned you’re William’s girlfriend?”

Their pace slowed. Loren flexed her fingers, her stomach tightening at the question. Loren Looked at Kate and spoke as quietly as she could. “Well, yes - we’ve been seeing each other exclusively since Thanksgiving.” Loren hesitated before she continued explaining her and William’s status to Kate. “Both he and I want to keep everything absolutely under wraps so I’d rather just sit somewhere off to the side until Alex is done his stuff.”

Being the Media Manager for the Marlies for a number of years, this was well within her area of expertise. Kate found it oddly refreshing - normally it was the player asking to keep things confidential, not the other way around. The worry in Loren’s face made it clear—this wasn’t just something casual. Whatever was between her and William, they were serious about keeping it private.

Kate led Loren through a small enclave that opened into a much larger room, packed with every kind of hockey equipment imaginable. “Loren, I’m going to grab Wil - he’s the Head Equipment Manager. He’ll find a spot for you to wait for Alex, okay? I’m sure you’re used to waiting around after the games,” she winked.

“I really appreciate it Kate - thank you so much,” Loren smiled, cheeks still aflush.

The life these professional players led often felt dizzying to Loren. Even after her time with William, she felt like she’d barely scratched the surface. And now, seeing Alex’s experience too, she was even more amazed. The contrast between William and Alex was vast—both professional players, both Nylanders, yet leading very different careers. And behind closed doors, she saw the unique bond they shared. The chirping they doled out to each other, the arguing, the laughter, their undying support for one another. She felt so fortunate to witness any of it.

Approaching Loren was a broad man with slicked back hair, accompanied by Kate. Kate began the introductions. “Loren, this is Wil Burns. He’s been a part of the equipment staff for the Marlies for many years. Wil this is Loren - ,” Kate looked at Loren to fill in the blank.

Loren extended her hand, a wide grin on her face. “Girard. Loren Girard. Wil - it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Loren,” Wil smiled, shaking her hand. “You can come back into this area and watch all the goings on until Alex is through with his interviews. You came for the right game - pretty exciting, eh?”

Loren chuckled. “I thought maybe I should leave after the first - that maybe I was bad luck for the team,” she smiled. “I’m glad they grabbed that momentum and just ran with it. It’s such great hockey.”

Wil took the time to walk Loren through the post-game routines of the players and staff. She’d never been this close to it with the Leafs, so she absorbed every detail, fascinated by how much went on behind the scenes.

As the post game media scrums wrapped up, Loren saw Alex walking through the dressing room, followed by William Villeneuve. Both players had an incredible night - Alex with his 5 points and William with 4. She smiled watching Alex from a distance - there was no denying he was 100% pure Nylander. There were many different traits between William and Alex, both in stature and in personality, and Loren had begun to see those differences the more time she spent with the brothers.

Kate tapped Alex on the shoulder, nodding toward Loren. His grin spread wide before he could stop it, and—almost unbelievably—his cheeks flushed pink as he stepped toward her.

Then she smiled at him. Her expression was full of warmth mixed with excitement and pride. The way she looked at him made Alex feel like he was the only person in the room.

Something strange settled in his chest.

Up until that moment, Loren had always just been William’s girl. Hell, Alex had once flat-out told William to move on from her—to focus on hockey instead of whatever was happening between them.

But so much had transpired since then.

Alex remembered when William told him—plain as day—that no one brought anything close to what Loren brought into his life. Alex had brushed it off at the time, giving William some generic, emotionless response.

But now, standing in front of her, he understood what William meant in a way he never had before.

Alex barely had time to process the shift inside him before Loren stepped forward, her eyes dancing with excitement.

"Hej där!" Her Swedish was careful and a little hesitant, but the fact she tried made it endearing. "Oh my gosh, amazing game! Congratulations, Alex!" she beamed.

A warmth filled Alex’s chest - it was nice having someone waiting for him after a game. Someone that was invested and cheered for whether his team won or lost. Someone that was gorgeous on the outside, enough to make his teammates envious, but sweet enough on the inside to impress his grandmother.

Someone like Lo—no. No, no, no. Not someone like Loren. Not Loren.

She was William’s girlfriend. You cannot think about her that way.

Alex clenched his jaw, forcing the thought from his mind before it could settle.

And then Loren hugged him.

Brief. Polite.

But long enough for Alex’s cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of red. Long enough for him to catch a hint of her fragrance—warm and familiar, the same scent that marks her presence in the condo.

“I was thinking that I brought some bad juju or something in the first…I was going slink out and send you an apology later. But god, when you guys turned it around….well, I guess you don’t need my replay - you made so much of it happen,” Loren blushed, slightly embarrassed about her enthusiastic commentary.

Alex chuckled at the jab she made to herself. “Hey - well…uh, I think a bunch of us are going out…did you want to tag along or -?”

Loren’s expression was appreciative mixed with apologetic. “That sounds awesome but I think it’s best if I just head back to the condo. Watch William play, head to bed - pretty tame….you know me,” she smiled.

Alex looked around into the adjoining room where a few of his teammates had conveniently stopped to have a “conversation” about “their hockey sticks” all while unabashedly checking out Loren from behind.

“Nawh - that sounds good, some these guys might start creepin’ up to you anyway,” Alex remarked, looking over her shoulder and making eye contact until they unglued their gaze from Loren’s ass. “Some of them don’t know how to behave…,” he said loudly, getting their attention before Loren had a chance to turn around.

Loren sensed there was a moment that just occurred between Alex and the small group of players off to the side. Whatever just happened was more than enough to signify that it was time for her to go.

She and Alex chatted for a few more minutes, keeping it light—whether William had asked her to pick up Pablo and Banksy, or if she wanted Alex to grab something for her and bring it by later.

Loren thanked him and replied that William wanted to keep his routine with the dogs, then told Alex she might make something for herself, but she appreciated the offer.

And with that, she said she’d see him later—and to call if he needed a ride.

Alex reentered the dressing room, already bracing himself for the chirps and questions. He knew they were coming.

And sure enough—he wasn’t wrong.

After systematically shutting it all down with a casual, “She is 100% taken—no guy on the planet has a chance with her,” followed by a chuckle and a resounding, “Give it up,” Alex hit the showers, letting the hot water drown out all the questions, the teasing, and whatever the hell that weird feeling was from earlier.

—

Alex slid into his older brother’s Porsche. He sat for a moment, contemplating his options for the night.

He could drop the car off at home, grab an Uber, and really let loose.

Or he could just drive himself, keep it to one or two drinks, and call it a night.

There were plenty of options, but given his mood? Two drinks felt like enough.

Soon, messages began popping up—many from girls he’d connected with recently, all of them congratulating him on a great game.

One message caught his attention—not because of what it said, but because of who sent it. Nevaeh.

They met one evening at a popular Toronto night spot back in November when the Nylander siblings were all together. Alex had been dancing with another girl, her name long lost in his mind, drowning in a sea of possibilities—when Nevaeh scooched behind him to get by.

Her hands were planted firmly on his waist as she shimmied past, but given the dance floor seemed to have ample room, her touch left Alex a bit puzzled yet intrigued.

The two would keep bumping into one another, and by the end if the night, Alex had her online details. Over the course of the past weeks, Alex and Neveah kept in touch, though there were no real conversations to speak of. They sexted, sending provocative and extremely elicit messages and photos back and forth. He liked her confidence - her boldness - he had always been drawn to women who just lay it all out there.

Neveah’s message suggested that he come over for a bit while she got ready for the club. Just hang out, she said. Then we can go together.

Alex wasn’t an idiot. The invite was simple enough but it was the accompanying pictures that gave him the extra context he needed.

His lips quirked at the corner as he tapped out a reply.

Alex: Omw.

And with that, he pulled out of the lot.

—

Nevaeh wasted no time the second he closed her apartment door.

He barely had a chance to scan her body under the robe that she quickly untied. She was pressed up against him, threading her fingers through his hair along the collar of his jacket. She flashed a wicked grin, telling him how fucking hot he looked, before her lips pressed against his. Alex let her take control, let her pull him toward the bedroom, let her undress him with absolute efficiency.

This wasn’t about connection.

She was good—knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly how to work him up, what to say and how to say it. She was on her knees, her expression covering all bases between innocence and unbridled sexual hunger. Before he had a chance to think, her hands and mouth moved on his cock with practiced skill.

It was good. It had its desired effect.

Later, she climbed on top of him, sliding his cock into her, rolling her hips, and taking what she wanted while Alex let her. His hands gripped her waist and watched her enjoying herself. He was feeling pretty good himself as well so win win at the end of the day.

He watched her as she bounced on him, closing in on her orgasm. He could feel his own climax beginning to take hold, and once she reached the height of her release, he flipped her onto her back and jackhammered her until he spilled out into the condom.

After the highs of their respective orgasms had faded, they lay apart in silence as their breathing returned to normal. Nevaeh barely spared him a glance as she pecked him on the cheek, reaching for her phone while curling into his side. Scrolling. Giggling. Liking. Typing.

Alex stared at the ceiling, waiting for that post-sex haze to settle in.

It didn’t.

The silence between them solidified their lack of compatibility, apparent to Alex only in that moment.

But what Neveah said to him, once she broke the silence, was the thing that really annoyed the shit out of him.

“So,” she started, her voice suddenly a slightly higher pitch, almost childlike. “We should skip the club and go back to your place. Introduce me to your brother.”

Alex brows furrowed as he tilted his head to look at her.

"What?"

"You know," she said, smirking at her screen, "I bet you and him would love me and…oooh, maybe even a couple of my girls." She finally glanced up, giving him a playful nudge. "You should make it happen. We'd be... very attentive to both you boys, if we were given the opportunity."

Alex let out a short laugh, mostly because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

This wasn’t new. Not even remotely. Women had been propositioning them both for years—together, separately, in various places around the world. And of course, as young and virile men would do, they enjoyed in obliging the offers from time to time.

The annoying part was how casually Neveah brought up William. Like it wasn’t enough that Alex had just fucked her—she wanted a shot at his brother too.

Of course she did.

Even after a five-point night, even after leading his team to an OT win, William was still the focal point.

Alex didn’t resent his brother. Not really. But it was hard to ignore that no matter what he did, no matter how good he played, William was always the name people cared about.

He exhaled sharply, shifting out from under Nevaeh’s hold and reaching for his phone.

He tapped on a new message received. The second he saw her name, his stomach flipped.

Loren.

He frowned at his own reaction. That was weird.

Still, he opened the message.

Loren: Hey - hope you're out enjoying yourself - I just wanted to let you know that thanks to you, I'm hooked on Chipotle’s and I got a separate order of your favorite if you (and any potential company 😉😉😉😉😏😏😏) might be hungry when you come in.

A grin tugged at his lips. Even the insinuation made him chuckle.

And then, just as quickly, that strange feeling crept back in.

Loren.

How was she always like this?

God, she was so caring, so thoughtful. Even with him.

It wasn’t just her coming to the game today. It wasn’t just the healthy breakfasts and dinners that she made for them. There were so many little things. The way she always made sure that when she brought William little treats from some obscure place that there was something for him too.

William had once mentioned how Loren tried to make sure that he and Alex had their space to do their things together. She never wanted anyone to feel like she was encroaching on their time together. She understands how important our relationship is, William had explained.

Alex had been baffled by that at first. Almost suspicious at times thinking that it was set up. That she would turn into this overly demanding, over-bearing, attention seeking girlfriend.

That hasn’t happened.

Loren genuinely cared. About William. About their family. About him.

And the fucked-up thing? He liked how that felt.

Alex exhaled, locking his phone before he let himself think too hard about it.

"I should head out - not feeling great," he muttered, already grabbing his underwear and his pants.

Nevaeh barely looked up. "Mmm, Alex - let me come home with you. It’ll take me 10 minutes just to grab a few things."

*"*Not this time - got family visiting,” Alex countered, which wasn’t true — the family was arriving the next day.

She pouted, running her nails down his stomach. "Oh c’mon…..families love me, and I want to meet your dogs…they’re soooo cute."

Alex huffed a laugh. Sure she did.

Was it that she was confident? Or plain delusional.

“Maybe another time. I think I’m coming down with something… been going around on the Leafs too," Alex mumbled, already pulling on his jacket.

Nevaeh pouted, tugging at his wrist. "Fine. But next time, I wanna meet your brother."

Alex didn’t bother responding. He just grabbed his keys and walked out

—

It was a Saturday night—a night for celebrating, for drinking, for being out with his teammates and countless available women.

Yet for Alex, all he felt was the pull to go home.

He sat in the Porsche, the low idle of the engine filling the quiet space around him.

The club had been an option. Hell, it was still an option. He could turn around right now, meet up with his teammates, let himself get lost in the music, the booze, the girls who were always eager to celebrate a win or to soothe a loss.

But tonight somehow was different. Tonight, the only place he wanted to be was home.

What remained an issue in his mind - he was sat there not because he was tired. Nor was it because the post-sex emptiness with Nevaeh pissed him off.

He hated to admit it but he wanted to be home because of Loren.

Alex ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he stared out the windshield, the underground parking garage dimly lit around him.

Loren was William’s girl. That was unshakable. Undeniable.

She loved his brother in a way that made it clear there wasn’t a single other man on the planet for her.

And Alex? He would never—could never—betray William like that.

So why the hell was he here instead of out celebrating?

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, thoughts circling, twisting, refusing to settle.

Maybe it was that he needed comfort instead of clubbing tonight.

Maybe he just liked having her around.

Maybe it was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t trying to use him, or compare him to his brother, or get something out of him.

And maybe, for the first time in a long time, that felt better than anything else.

Alex groaned, shaking his head. Jesus. What the fuck am I even thinking?

He grabbed the keys, cut the engine, and climbed out of the car.

When he got upstairs, Loren would be there. Probably curled up on the couch, watching the Leafs game, waiting for William to get back.

And for Alex - Alex was just going to walk in, sit down, and act like nothing was different.

Even if everything felt different.

The minute he walked in - he realized he had been building up an idea in his head that dissipated the second he saw her. She looked exactly as he envisioned her to be. Curled up on the couch, watching the Leafs and her beloved, his brother, try to win a hockey game.

She game him a warm smile when Alex appeared from around the corner. “They’re down 3-2.”

“Ooof, fuck.” Alex’s focus immediately went to the time remaining in the 3rd period as he stretched out on the opposing end of the couch. “Woller will be coming out soon.”

Loren covered her eyes. “See - I’m not good in these games…I can’t watch. I’ll grab you a glass of wine if you want?”

Alex chuckled. “Yeah - sure, go make your escape…some red would be great.” Relief washed over him as he sat and watched the dying minutes of the game. He felt okay - he felt in control, and he felt that whatever emotions he had going on earlier that night were circumstantial and very temporary.

Loren called from the kitchen asking Alex if he wanted his Chipotle’s warmed up.

Suddenly starving, Alex called back “Ja, tack.” A minute later, she heard him loudly mutter to her from the living room “Fuck - empty netter. Well, that’s that. 4-2.”

Loren walked back in and set down a coaster and a glass of wine for Alex and herself.

"Tack. Ser du? Kanske hade de kvitterat om du inte hade gått," Alex teased. "William tappade pucken med sex sekunder kvar." ("Thanks. See? Maybe they would have tied it if you hadn't left," Alex teased. "William lost the puck with 6 seconds left.")

"Oh no—jag borde ha stannat... Fan också, jag visste det..." ("Oh no—I should have stayed... God damn it, I knew it...")

"Jag säger till William att det är ditt fel..." ("I'm telling William it's your fault...")

Loren gasps feigning disbelief. "Du skulle aldrig...!" ("You would never...!")

Alex shrugs, taking a sip of his wine. "Mmm... jag vet inte..." ("Mmm... I don’t know...")

Loren grabs a throw pillow and smacks him with it. “Vilken liten skit…,” (”Such a little brat”).

Alex laughs and mockingly whines that she messed his hair up. Yeah, this was better that going out he thinks.

The timer on the oven sounded and soon after Alex retrieved his food, he returned to his spot with a glass of water. As he blew the steam off of his fork, he started asking Loren questions, mostly about little things at first - what she ordered for herself when she decided to pick him up something, if she’ll maybe come back to another Marlies game (he joked it might make William a little jealous if she started attending more games of Alex’s), if she’s finished Christmas shopping for William yet.

Loren answered each one, her typical buoyant personality - skirting around the William getting jealous if she went to see Alex play more with absolute modesty with “I highly doubt William would get jealous,” followed by a chuckle. She mentioned she was concerned about his Christmas gifts, confiding in Alex that she often worries that her gifts might be underwhelming.

'If I had the means, I’d buy him the world,' she admitted, her cheeks turning red. 'But I just… can’t.”

Alex didn’t know why that hit the way it did.

Maybe because women in his orbit seemed to want a guy who could buy them the world.

But Loren? She just wanted to give William everything.

And for some reason, that sat with him longer than he expected.

Alex shook his head, swallowing the last bite. “Awh - don’t worry, if it comes from you, he’ll love it. Trust me.”

Loren cocked an eyebrow. “That’s the kind of thing that people say while they’re bracing themselves to receive something that they’re never going to like in a million years,” her shoulders shaking as she let out a low giggle.

Alex chuckled. “Okay, so what’re one of his gifts then?”

Loren tried to stifle a smile, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Same thing as I got you.”

Alex’s expression showed intrigue. He sat back against a pillow and let his stomach rest from all the food he just ate. “Oh yeah, what’s that then?”

Without missing a beat, she smirked “Dayglo Condoms and a vibrating cock ring.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide as he started to laugh.

Loren covered her face, her cheeks hot to the touch. “Yeah, I gotta cut myself off for tonight, that last glass of wine…” Loren giggled.

She stood up and offered to take Alex’s glass. “Nah, thanks though. The wine’s going down a little too easily - I’m gonna have more.”

Loren laughed and shook her head again. “Sorry, I have the humour of a 9 year old boys sometimes - the going down easily comment…ah, sorry, don’t mind me.”

“Yeah… you’re cut off, you loon," Alex chuckled. His laugh was something else—apparently even more unique than William’s at times.

“Alright then Alex, good night,” Loren smiled.

“Night Loren. Thanks again for coming today and for dinner. It was really nice of you to do that,” Alex replied softly.

“Anytime,” Loren replied with a small nod. He heard her pad to the kitchen, wash her glass quickly and then into William’s bedroom seconds later.

Alex exhaled as he leaned his head on the back of the couch. He now has seen a glimpse - a mere glimpse - of what Loren is like naturally, just on her own. God, this is why he’s never seen his brother quite as happy, quite at ease, quite as open and loving the way he’s been since Loren has been around. She really was like a breath of fresh air.

The realization that Alex might be looking for that kind of connection - for the kind of love, understanding and devotion that Loren has, not just for William but his whole life…it hit him in that moment.

Alex stayed up for awhile - gaming, messaging, texting, swiping…all half-heartedly. He downed another glass of wine while watching the highlight reels of all the Saturday night games that had ended.

Around 1:30am, William arrived home. Pablo and Banksy b-lined it for the couch where Alex lay fast asleep - snoring with his mouth agape. He was jolted awake with Banksy climbing onto his chest, Alex groggily giving him a rub and setting him aside as he stood up from the couch and stretched.

Immediately the brothers caught each other up from the last 24-36 hours - Alex’s stellar performance versus a less than stellar one from his older brother, most of their family arriving tomorrow, and the oddly scheduled 5pm Sunday afternoon game, Leafs versus Buffalo. Alex even gave William a quick run-down of his hook-up, passing over the part that she wanted to meet William too. Him coming home instead of heading to the club where others on the team were just leaving.

“So what - you and Loren hung out?” William asked as he scarfed down part of Alex’s leftovers.

“Not for long really," Alex shrugged, maybe a little too casually. "She picked up some food for me just in case, and yeah—when I got home, we watched the rest of the game. Well, I did,” Alex chuckled, correcting himself. “She hid in the kitchen hoping you’d score if she wasn’t watching.”

“Didn’t work,” William joked.

“That’s what I told her. She even tried to call me a little shit or something in Swedish,” Alex smiled.

William grinned thinking about Loren and her potty mouth…in Swedish even. She’s been practicing…that’s my girl he thought.

For a split second, William thought about asking Alex what he thought of Loren—not because he was even remotely concerned. Not even a little bit. It would just make him happy to hear that Alex sees all the good in her. Given the hour, William shelved the thought…Loren was in his bed and he could hardly wait to be alone with her.

The brothers said their goodnights, and Pablo and Banksy followed William down the hallway to his bedroom. And once again, the condo was quiet and Alex was by himself.

With another back to back game against Bakersfield at 4pm that afternoon, Alex meandered down to his bedroom. He was tired and for a moment thought that all of the buildup surrounding Loren in his mind might just be from his tired mind taking Loren’s kindness and turning it into something else.

Alex shut off the water, catching the faint murmur of William’s voice through the walls as he walked into his bedroom. He smirked at the sound of his brother’s unmistakable laugh. Sliding into bed, he flipped onto his side, wrapping himself around a larger stuffed pillow.

Although he had achieved a satifactory release with Neveah earlier on, a familiar need reentered Alex. He tried to push out the images and thoughts of the women he’s “connected with” lately, knowing sleep was necessary, especially in a back to back game situation.

As he lay there, with the distant hum of traffic in the background, he soon heard what could only be a bed shifting back and forth, and it certainly wasn’t his. The pace of the sound was steady at first but gradually increased, mixed with the faint moans of two voices.

Exasperated, Alex grabbed his earbuds and sought out a distraction, the blood flow to his own cock starting to build pressure. He saw his ex-girlfriend Isla’s green dot indicating she was online. He tapped out a quick message to her…she was someone that really knew Alex well, and he needed that familiarity too.

Phone sex wasn’t ideal, but in a pinch, Isla obliged, lounging through a lazy Sunday morning in Stockholm. In some ways, it was nice to have someone—someone who knew him as well as she did, even if they weren’t always good for each other. Even if they weren’t together anymore.

After this impromptu rendezvous with Isla, Alex cleaned himself up and ventured out to the kitchen one last time. He jumped when he saw the refrigerator light illuminating Loren’s figure as she grabbed two ice packs from the freezer.

Loren jumped when she spotted Alex, giggling from the sudden jolt of fright that he gave her.

Alex gave a crooked smiled her way. “His knees?” nodding towards the ice packs.

Loren smiled sheepishly. “I swear, I didn’t break him - yeah, it’s his knees.”

Alex smiled and nodded. “He’s lucky he’s got you here to take care of him when he needs it,” he remarked warmly. “I’m not very sympathetic.”

Loren paused and looked at Alex with a knowing smile. “Ah, you are….it’s absolutely there - it’s just a flag you choose to not fly as high.”

God, she really is great he thought.

“Night, Alex…have a good sleep,” Loren said softly, before padding back towards William’s bedroom.

He was thankful their family was arriving later that morning. He needed the distraction. The noise. The chaos. The sublime madness of a full Nylander house leading up to the holidays.

Anything to help him tuck away this ridiculous little crush and pretend it had never happened.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Life With Yandere Hanzo Hasashi

Every waking moment is occupied with thoughts of you; your health, and your well-being, he is watching you constantly, and thinking of you, from the moment you leave until the moment you come back. He wants nothing in this god-forsaken world, except for you. He wants you to love him, he will do whatever it takes to keep you, no matter the cost.

The life of a yandere is intense and consuming. Every thought, every desire, every action revolves around his darling. He lives for you, and you alone. His whole existence is centered on adoring, protecting, and possessing you. His heart races when you smile at him, and he would do anything to make you happy. It is a constant battle between his need to control and his need to prove his love.

A yandere is a complex being. His love is strong and deep, but it is often accompanied by jealousy and possessiveness. He struggles to balance his need to protect you and his jealousy when other people get close. He desires to know everything about you, and he might become upset and even violent if he feels like you're not giving him enough attention or if he senses that you are keeping something from him.

Being a yandere, he would constantly worry about your safety and well-being. He would always want to be near you, to ensure your protection and keep an eye on you. He would get extremely jealous if you even talk to someone else, fearing that you might like them more than him. He would obsess over every detail about you, from your favorite songs and movies to your daily routine. The depths of his love and obsession are truly endless.

Every morning he would make sure that you wake up to a warm and delicious breakfast. Then he would accompany you throughout the day, making sure you are always within his sight and reach.

During the day he would always keep his phone close, ready to answer your every call, text, or message immediately, no matter what he was doing at the time.

In his free time, he would probably do anything that you enjoy doing: Shopping, watching movies, or just simply enjoying each other's company. In the evening, he would make sure to make you a delicious and elegant dinner.

A typical day for him with his darling would be filled with constant attention and affection. He would wake up early and prepare breakfast for you. Then, he would drive you to work and spend the entire day thinking about you. When you come home, he would have dinner ready and wait for you eagerly. After that, he would want to spend every moment with you, often showering you with gifts and affection. He would want to talk for hours, listen to your day, and just be close to you.

During the nighttime, he would be at his most clingy and needy. He would want to be as close as possible to you, holding onto you tightly, and often wrapping his arms and legs around you, in an attempt to be completely enveloped in your presence. He would probably spend hours just staring into your eyes, studying every detail of your face, and finding new things to love about you.

During the night, he would probably enjoy spending time with you, talking and cuddling until you fall asleep. He would then watch you sleep for hours, just admiring your beauty. If you have nightmares, he would do his best to comfort you, holding you close and vowing to kill anyone who tries to hurt you. He would be the first to wake up in the morning just so he can start his day serving you with love and adoration.

His days and nights, his every thought, and every breath, everything is dedicated to you and you alone. His whole existence would revolve around you.

Yanderes in general, love to pamper their darling with gifts, and this one is no exception. On your birthdays and anniversaries, he would go above and beyond to give you the best gift possible. Whether it be jewelry, clothes, or even expensive electronics, he would spend hours and hours trying to think of the best way to show his love for you.

If you work, you would often find him randomly visiting you at lunch, just to spend some time with you, and make sure you're alright.

He would probably spend a lot of his free time just observing you, studying every move and expression you make. He would make sure to remember every single detail about you, from your favorite foods and colors to your little quirks and habits. He would buy you whatever you wanted. He wouldn’t mind if you asked for his entire bank account. After all, his main priority is to make sure you are happy.

Being a yandere, he would also be rather possessive of you, constantly wanting to know where you are and what you are doing at all times. He would likely demand that you share your location with him, so he can always know where you are. He might also have a habit of checking your phone and messages, just to make sure you are not talking to other men. He would not hesitate to intervene in any conversation he deems inappropriate or threatening to your relationship. He might even go as far as to isolate you from your friends and family, to keep you all for himself.

He would plan special dates and surprises for you, just to keep things fresh and exciting. He would even go to the extremes, like taking you to an extremely expensive place and hiring an entire staff just to serve you.

He would definitely be very protective of you and your boundaries. He would not tolerate anyone who tries to cross a line or disrespect you in any way.

He would also hate it if you ever hid anything from him. He would want to know everything, no matter how small or unimportant it may seem, to him - secrets are unacceptable.

He would constantly compliment you, telling you that you are beautiful, smart, and perfect in every way. He would encourage you and support you in all your endeavors, always believing in your talents and skills. If you have any insecurities, he will try his best to ease them and make you see your own worth. He would remind you every day how much he loves you.

[eretzyisrael]

by Collin Anderson

When police searched the home of two Students for Justice in Palestine leaders, a pair of sisters at George Mason University, their allies painted a sympathetic picture.

The students were targeted, according to the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), for engaging in "anti-genocide events on campus." The Intercept reported that police found "antique firearms" registered to the students' brother and brought gun-related charges as a result of his family's "pro-Palestine activism."

Excluded from those descriptions was the crime the sisters are suspected of committing. A group of student radicals defaced George Mason’s student center in August, spray painting messages that warned of a "student intifada." In its coverage of the incident, the Washington Post wrote that "activists spray-painted words on Wilkins Plaza outside the university’s Johnson Center."

Those activists caused thousands of dollars in damage, a felony in the state of Virginia, and police suspect the SJP leaders, sisters Jena and Noor Chanaa, led the group of vandals. Weeks after the incident, in November, a county judge granted a warrant—which is under seal until February, according to a Fairfax County court representative—allowing police to seize electronics from the Chanaa family home.

When officers entered the Chanaa family home, they found firearms—modern weapons, not antiques—as well as scores of ammunition and foreign passports, all of which sat in plain view, according to court documents obtained by the Free Beacon and sources familiar with the investigation.

They also found pro-terror materials, including Hamas and Hezbollah flags and signs that read "death to America" and "death to Jews," according to court documents and sources familiar.

Police seized the weapons under Virginia's red flag law, arguing that Mohammad Chanaa, the students' brother and a George Mason alumnus, was "linked to destruction of property in connection with a large group of people with like-minded rhetoric" and posed a danger to others given his possession of "terroristic" materials.

On the day of the search, Nov. 7, law enforcement officials removed "long guns" from the residence, sources say. A day later, Mohammad Chanaa voluntarily relinquished his 9mm handgun and concealed carry permit, according to court records. He was not charged with a crime—Virginia's red flag law gives gun owners 14 days to petition a judge to return their firearms, and Mohammad Chanaa did so on Nov. 21. A Fairfax County circuit court judge granted his request as part of the civil case.

CAIR has denounced the "draconian measures used by law enforcement authorities" to "silence or intimidate those who seek to end the Israeli genocide in Gaza." A faculty group at George Mason, meanwhile, released a statement expressing "deep concern about the apparent targeting of two George Mason students for their advocacy for Palestinian human rights."

The ongoing ordeal—local police are investigating the incident with the FBI's assistance, sources familiar with that investigation tell the Free Beacon—reflects CAIR and SJP's status as driving forces behind the anti-Semitic activism that has plagued college campuses in the wake of Hamas's Oct. 7 terror attack on Israel. It also reflects the radical, pro-terror views that have become synonymous with that activism.

[offender42085]

Post 1377

Zachary Jacoby Zulock, Georgia inmate 1003745741, born 1987, incarceration intake February 2025 at age 37, sentenced to life without parole

Aggravated Child Molestation

in December 2024, Zachary and his husband, William Zulock (Georgia inmate 1003745906) were sentenced to 100 years in prison without the possibility of parole following their guilty pleas to multiple counts of aggravated child abuse and exploitation.

Zachary Zulock entered guilty pleas in October 2024 to two counts of aggravated sodomy, three counts of aggravated child molestation, two counts of incest, two counts of sodomy, three counts of sexual exploitation of children, and two counts of pandering for a person under 18.

The case began in July 2022 when the Georgia Bureau of Investigation (GBI) received a tip from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children regarding suspected child sexual abuse material (CSAM) uploaded from a Walton County IP address. Investigators traced the materials to the Zulock residence, where they discovered evidence of extensive abuse.

The Zulocks, who had adopted two boys years earlier, admitted during interviews to abusing the children. Authorities seized over 7 terabytes of electronic evidence, including surveillance footage and cell phone records, documenting the abuse. Investigators also uncovered graphic text and social media messages discussing the crimes.

Co-defendants in the case included Hunter Lawless (Georgia inmate 1003421610, scheduled for release May 2035), who pleaded guilty to sexual exploitation of children, and Luis Vizcarro-Sanchez (Georgia inmate 1003510558, scheduled for release September 2037), who was convicted of pandering and unrelated computer theft charges.

5f

[totchipanda]

22 kanej 😳

(oh I am so mad because I started writing a response and saved it as a draft but it is not here! Starting from scratch I guess.)

22. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Do you want to come over? The boys are out tonight.

They so rarely had a chance to be alone at her house, so Kaz jumped at it. He showed up with nothing but himself - no laptop, no books, no drinks and no snacks. Inej had put out a couple bowls of snacks, as she usually did when he was over, but beyond that it was just them, the couch, and a wall of movies.

She put one on, a drama set during the Ravkan civil war, before settling next to him with the blanket that she favoured thrown over their laps. At a simple question, he agreed and she curled into his side, tucking her feet up so that her legs leaned over into his. His arm was behind her, hand curled over her waist, and to be honest he couldn't focus on the movie.

For starters, he'd seen it before, and his memory of it was sufficient. Mostly, his attention was taken up by her. Her warmth, her gentle weight, the spill of her hair brushing against his wrist. He didn't want to watch a movie, he wanted to spend every second on her.

As if she could read his mind, half an hour into the film she shifted a little, turning her face up towards him. "Can I kiss you?" she asked.

"Yes," he agreed, grateful because he'd been planning ahead to ask her during a particular scene.

Inej let the blanket fall away as she sat up and twisted to face him. Her hand went to the center of his chest, another point of warmth through his shirt. Her lips touched his so gently, almost as if she expected him to push her away. True, it had happened before, more than once, but his affliction was a little better now, sometimes for several minutes. Plenty of time to kiss her.

And kiss her he did. He was hungry for her, greedy, and it seemed she felt the same as their kiss deepened. He barely heard the movie anymore as she pressed close, her tongue against his. He was aware of the press of her breast against his arm, the way she leaned into him. Her hand had moved from his chest to the back of his head, sliding through the strands of his hair.

Kaz tightened his hand on her waist and reached out with the other one, laying it on her knee. Come closer, he would have said had he not been so occupied with kissing her - she'd drunk some fruit juice minutes earlier, and he could taste it faintly - so he tried to say it with his hands instead. His fingers hooked at the back of her thigh, pulling, pulling - and she followed, her leg going across his lap as she shifted onto it.

Now this was more like it. He was elated. Both hands slid up her back, over the sweater she wore but shifting it with his hands. Her fingers were at his throat, slipping the first of his shirt buttons open.

The sound of the electronic lock at the front door was all the warning they had that her housemates were home earlier than expected - he assumed, as it had barely been an hour between her message and this moment. Inej was out of his lap in a heartbeat, settling back at his side and reaching for the blanket again. It was back over them, covering them from the waist down before she leaned back, and slipped her hand onto his thigh.

The door opened and the boys stepped inside along with a gust of cold air, complaining about the venue they'd gone to being evacuated just as they'd pulled up with sirens wailing in the distance.

"Oh! Sorry Kaz, didn't realize you were here," Wylan apologized as he came into the room and saw that Inej was not alone.

He gave them a greeting and did not miss the sharp look in Jesper's eyes as he took the two of them in. He turned his attention back to the movie before anyone asked any more questions, but he was very distracted by the hand on his leg.

Thankfully the boys took themselves upstairs not long after, and after twenty or so minutes of nothing, he did say that he should get going. He couldn't blame her for not picking up where they'd left off once they were alone again; this part of their relationship was new, and he didn't want to put it on display anymore than she did.

Inej walked him to the door and he bent to kiss her in farewell. She practically melted against him and he wished they didn't have to separate right now. "Friday," he said, and it wasn't a question. They'd been together every weekend since Nachtspel and he wasn't going to give that up.

"Friday," she agreed and pressed one more kiss to his lips. This one lingered in a way that was full of promise. "Good night, Kaz."

Kiss Prompts

[kleefkruid]

I got a Child Focus (Belgian center for missing children) alert on Instagram, which is new and… interesting? We get missing children on the electronic billboards and from there on out it will spread organically on social media but I’ve never gotten a direct message like this?

However, you want me to look out for a baby? A blonde baby? At least the car is a useful lead

Went to the news and there they have actual pictures of the other people in the car, sounds like this message system isn’t being updated with the latest information but seeing as it’s the first time I’ve seen it used it’s probably not finetuned yet.

Anyway I’ll add the pictures here since it’s apparently a very urgent case, it’s the parents who apparently aren’t allowed access to the child who have kidnapped him from France to likely Belgium so West EU people keep a look out?

[kikiswriting7]

Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 5

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, temptation

✵Notes: Hello! Now that I somewhat have a vacation time and I could not stop thinking about this, my fingers slipped so here goes another chaper! And if you want to be added to the tag list and be notified when theres a new chapter please sign up on this link!

lots of love, Kiki

CHAPTER 5 - Guiding lights and shadows

The week was a relentless sprint, each day bleeding into the next in a haze of exhaustion.With finals approaching, it feels like every teacher is piling on extra work, making the days even more grueling. The highlights are lunch with the boys and the lingering memory of that kiss, which I am trying not to overanalyze. My heart is skipping a beat each time Yoongi’s name is appearing on my phone with a new message about a show or something he’s done. The conversation is always light and definitely far off from the moment we shared the previous weekend. So when he texts today asking if I want to join him in the city center to shop for headphones, I can’t resist. The stores are staying open later than usual, which works perfectly—I just need my finance teacher to let us out on time.

As the clock is ticking toward the end of the period, I am finding myself glancing at it repeatedly, willing it to move faster. When the bell finally rings, I am quickly gathering my things and rushing out, excitement bubbling inside me.

Yoongi is saying he doesn’t want anything serious. He has put the brakes on whatever we have, and I don’t understand why I am still hung up on him, other than the fact that he is clearly my type. When I arrive at the city center station, I spot Yoongi leaning against a lamppost, his gaze focused on his phone. He looks up as I approach, a small smile on his lips.

"Hey," I greet, slightly breathless from my hurry.

"Hey," he replies, his eyes lighting up. "Ready to find some headphones?"

"Absolutely," I say, matching his smile.

We are wandering through the busy streets, popping into various electronics stores and comparing different models. Yoongi is in his element, enthusiastically testing out headphones and discussing their pros and cons. I am admiring his passion for even the smallest things.

Eventually, he finds a pair he likes, and we make our way out of the store. The sky has darkened, with city lights casting a warm glow on the streets. We walk side by side, our conversation flowing effortlessly from one topic to another.

"Want to grab a drink?" Yoongi suggests. “We can get a bottle of something and take a walk by the beach?”

"Sure," I agree, glad for the chance to spend more time with him, though slightly concerned about the growing chill. The days have been warmer, but the nights, with the cold sea breeze, are frigid.

We stop by a nearby convenience store before heading back to our neighborhood bus, hoping to reach the beach faster. I can’t help but steal glances at Yoongi. Even in silence, his presence is comforting.

The city noises are fading as we reach the beach, the gentle sound of waves crashing against the sand taking over. We walk to the end of the beach, where a lighthouse stands amidst a stretch of rocks. It isn’t a long distance, but it feels removed from the city’s bustle. We drink from one of the bottles of wine we have bought, and conversation picks up again. Yoongi talks about his week and how he is grateful that his grade is based mainly on projects rather than exams—a luxury I am wishing for.

“I’m definitely a hands-on learner. It’s not my forte to just sit and absorb a subject,” I say as we reach the rocky path at the end of the beach. “So even though I have just started, I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“There’s definitely a strange feeling when you start,” Yoongi agrees. “Being away from home, studying in a different language... you grow up fast.”

His words are resonating with me. “Yeah,” I say softly, gazing out at the dark, rippling sea. “It’s like you’re forced to figure out who you are, but it’s hard to keep up.”

We are quiet for a while, sipping from the bottle of wine and watching the waves. A shiver is running down my spine, snapping me out of my thoughts. The cold is more biting than I’ve realized. I am stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets, desperate for warmth.

“You know, being cold is just a state of mind,” Yoongi says, breaking the silence. I shoot him a skeptical glance while blowing hot air over my hands.

“Yeah, sure. Try living your whole life in a warm country and then talk about cold being a state of mind,” I huff, making him chuckle. He takes my hands in his, warming them with his touch.

The contact is light, but it sends a jolt through me. Yoongi subtly moves closer, focusing on the sea ahead to distract from the growing warmth between us. “It’s strange how much can change in such a short time,” he muses, taking another sip from the wine bottle before handing it to me.

I also drink from it, feeling the warmth spread through me, but it pales compared to the heat between us. “You know, I never thought I’d be here, sitting with you like this,” I admit, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Dice…” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is as if everything suddenly crashes into his mind, and he pulls away, leaving me missing his warmth immediately.

I swallow hard, feeling the effects of the wine as my words tumble out. “I’ve never had a relationship before. But I think what’s important is doing things because you want to, not because someone told you to.” I look back at the sparkling city. “I don’t want to date someone who buys me flowers because they feel obligated. I want to live in the moment and enjoy whatever life throws at me.” I shrug, avoiding his gaze. I notice he is nodding slightly and taking a bigger sip from the bottle.

I turn to him to take my turn and realize it is almost empty. Have we drunk that much? I take a sip, feeling his eyes still on me. A smile starts forming on my lips. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Gabi is right. I just want to roll the dice and see where it lands.”

He chuckles, his gaze lingering on my lips. I find myself unable to look away from the softness of his gaze and the smile playing on his face. The world around us seems to fade, leaving just the two of us in this moment that feels both exhilarating and intensely intimate. My heart is pounding, almost drowning out the distant city sounds and crashing waves.

I try to maintain my composure, but Yoongi’s gaze makes it difficult. Thankfully, the darkness hides my blush. “You know,” I say, my voice wavering slightly, “sometimes it’s easier to talk about things when you’re... a little tipsy.”

Yoongi’s smile widens as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. His touch is warm and comforting against the cold night air. I lean my head on him. “Yeah, I get that,” he says softly. “Sometimes it’s easier to say what you really feel when you’re not overthinking everything.”

We are sharing a moment of silence, just enjoying the closeness, the intimacy of our shared warmth against the cold. I feel like I could stay here forever, lost in this strange, captivating bubble we are creating.

“Dice,” Yoongi says, his voice barely more than a murmur. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine. “If you really want to roll the dice... what would you want to happen?”

I meet his gaze, and the question is hanging in the air between us. My pulse is quickening as I struggle to find the right words. “I guess,” I start slowly, “I’d want to take chances. Live in the moment.” I frown. Who would say that I would be thinking like that.

“What is it?” he asks, confusion laced in his expression.

“If you tell Gabi that I said that, I will have to kill you.” I chuckle.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise, but he can’t hide the amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, so it’s that kind of secret?” he teases, his tone light but his gaze still intense.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t need her making fun of me for being all... introspective and sentimental. Especially when it makes her right.”

Yoongi chuckles, and his laughter seems to dissolve the last remnants of tension between us. “I promise, your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t dare spill it, especially not to Gabi.”

He leans back slightly, but his hand remains gently clasping mine. The touch is both grounding and electrifying. “So, you want to take chances and live in the moment,” he says more as a statement than a question, his voice softening.

I look down at our entwined fingers, feeling the warmth from his touch seeping into me. The silence is comforting, filled only with the gentle sounds of the waves and the distant hum of the city. Yoongi’s thumb is tracing small, soothing circles on the back of my hand, and I find myself leaning in slightly, drawn to the intimacy between us.

“Do you want to know something?” he asks suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine with a mix of vulnerability and determination.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah, tell me.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, his expression serious but soft. “I don’t want to overthink things either. I’ve been trying to figure out what I want, but... being here with you, right now, it feels right. And I think maybe that’s enough for now.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my breath catch, and I can see the same longing mirrored in his eyes. The distance between us feels like it is shrinking with every passing second. I take a small, deliberate breath, feeling the weight of his words and the promise they hold.

Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on mine, and I see his eyes soften with a mix of relief and affection. He leans in, his face close enough that I can feel his warm breath against my skin. The world seems to slow down, the only sounds the gentle rush of the waves and our quickened breaths.

Yoongi’s face is inches from mine, his warm breath mingling with the cool night air. Our eyes lock, and in that shared gaze, I can see a mix of hope and vulnerability. His lips are soft and inviting, and as he leans in, I feel a flutter of anticipation.

When our lips finally meet, the kiss is gentle and exploratory. There is no rush or intensity—just a tender connection that speaks volumes in its simplicity. I can taste the faint, tangy flavor of the cheap wine on his lips.

Yoongi’s lips are warm against mine, moving with a soft, deliberate rhythm. He doesn’t press too hard or deepen the kiss, instead keeping it light and delicate. His kiss is like a whisper, full of unspoken promises and gentle affection. I can feel the slight, hesitant brush of his lips, a caress rather than a demand.

The sensation is comforting, almost comforting in its tenderness. His hand, still holding mine, is providing a reassuring warmth that makes the kiss feel even more intimate. The touch of his fingers against my skin is gentle, almost as if he is afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

When we finally pull away, our foreheads are resting together, and I can see the soft smile playing on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi’s arms are wrapping around me, drawing me into a close, comforting embrace. We stay like that for a while, our bodies pressed together, with the city lights twinkling in the distance and the cool sea breeze gently brushing against our faces. The night feels suspended in time, a quiet and intimate pause amidst the chaos of our lives.

His warmth is seeping through my jacket, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest is a soothing rhythm against mine. We sit in silence, simply existing together in the stillness, the soft rustling of the sea and the distant hum of the city our only companions.

The kiss lingers between us, a tender moment. It is soft, fleeting—a brief spark that doesn’t demand anything more than what it is.

Yoongi’s gaze remains on the city, his expression contemplative but relaxed. His hand is resting lightly on my back, a casual touch that speaks of comfort rather than commitment. I lean my head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as we share this peaceful moment.

“Cold isn’t so bad when you’re not alone,” he says softly, breaking the silence with a quiet, reflective tone.

I smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.”

We remain there, side by side, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the tranquility of the night. The city lights continue to shimmer in the distance, a backdrop to our shared silence. It is a moment of connection, open-ended and unspoken, leaving the future uncertain but the present moment perfectly still.

The library is unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. The usual hum of activity is replaced by the soft rustling of pages and the faint tapping of keyboards. Eli, Gabi, and I have claimed our favorite study spot near the windows, the table covered in books, notes, and highlighters. Despite the serene setting, there is a palpable tension in the air, especially around Eli.

Ever since the club night last week, something has shifted. Eli is seeming distracted, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced with a more subdued, thoughtful one. I keep my head down, focusing on my notes, trying to ignore the undercurrent of awkwardness.

 “So, Eli,” Gabi says, breaking the silence. “Any updates on the marketing project?”

Eli snaps out of her thoughts, blinking rapidly. “Oh, um, yeah. I think we’re almost done. Just need to finalize a few things.”

Gabi nods, looking satisfied. “Good to know.” She drops her head on her books. “I’m seriously stressing about this test.”

Eli forces a smile. “Yeah, me too.”

The exchange is polite but strained. I can feel Gabi’s curious eyes darting between us, sensing the awkwardness but not pushing for answers, even though we probably knew the answer to it. Yoongi. I also definitely needed to keep quiet as I have also been keeping things from my friends.

Just as the silence threatens to swallow us again, Jungkook and Taehyung arrive, their presence like a breath of fresh air. Jungkook’s warm smile and Taehyung’s energetic demeanor instantly lighten the mood.

“Hey, everyone,” Jungkook greets, pulling up a chair beside me and resting his arm on the back of it. “Hope we’re not interrupting.” He offers the brightest smile that doesn’t fail to bring up the mood.

“Not at all,” Gabi replies, her eyes lighting up. “We could use the company.”

Taehyung plops down next to Eli, grinning. “So, what are we studying today?”

“Marketing,” Eli answers, her smile returning a little. “Big test and deadline coming up.”

“Fun,” Taehyung says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Good thing I’m here for moral support.”

As we settle into our study session, the atmosphere gradually becomes more relaxed. Jungkook and Taehyung’s playful banter helps ease some of the tension, and even Eli seems to loosen up a bit. However, my phone buzzes incessantly, a series of messages from Jimin lighting up the screen.

Jimin: "Hey, what are you up to?"

Jimin: "Studying again? On a Saturday?"

Jimin: "C'mon, let's do something fun!"

I sigh and quickly type a response.

Me: "I really need to study, Jimin. Maybe later?"

But Jimin, being Jimin, was relentless.

Jimin: "Pleeeeease? I'm bored out of my mind."

I try to ignore the messages and focus on my notes, but my phone buzzes again.

Jimin: "Fine, if you're going to ignore me, I'm just going to complain in the group chat"

A few seconds later, the group chat litghts up with Jimin's messages.

Jimin: "Why are all my friends so boring? It's Saturday! Someone come save me from this boredom!"

Gabi snorts, reading the messages over her own phone. "Sounds like Jimin's having a meltdown."

I roll my eyes, a small smile playing on my lips. "He's just being dramatic."

"Isn't he always?" Jungkook says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

As we continue studying, the group chat buzzes with more messages, most of them teasing Jimin for his dramatics. Even Jungkook and Taehyung join in.

Taehyung: "Jimin, maybe you should try studying. It's very stimulating."

Jungkook: "Or you could come help us. Plenty of fun to go around here."

Yoongi: “Don’t you have a test to study for?”

Jimin: "Ugh, you guys are the worst."

I chuckle at the exchange. It was comforting to have these people around. I am deep down glad of the friend group we formed. I don’t know how I would’ve survived so far without them. 

Eli catches my eye and gives me a small, appreciative smile, as if to say thanks for not pressing her about her unease. I return the smile, but feeling the heaviest feeling in my gut from also holding stuff from her.

After Jungkook and Taehyung joined us, I notice Eli glancing at her phone more frequently, her fingers twitching as if she was expecting a message. Each time it buzzed, she looked both hopeful and anxious, her eyes darting quickly to the screen and then away.

"Everything okay, Eli?" Taehyung asks gently, clearly clueless about all the slightly akward day we had so far. 

She nods quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just... family stuff."

He nods back, not entirely convinced but clearly willing to let it go for now. 

Throughout the afternoon, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Yoongi's absence is unusual. He was usually a steady presence, especially during our study sessions. Even though quiet and burried in his computer. During the week he acted like nothing had happened after he dropped us off at the apartment. But I guess last night might have drawn him away.

As we take a break, Taehyung stretched and glanced at me. "By the way, have you heard from Yoongi today?"

I shake my head. "No, I haven't. It's weird that he's not here."

Taehyung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and shruggs. "Maybe he needed some time alone. You know how he can be."

Eli's face tightens at the mention of Yoongi, and she quickly looks down at her notes, pretending to be absorbed in her work. The look on Gabi’s face came and went like lightning. She also saw how she reacted. And the quick glance we shared afterwords was enough to tell me we were going to be talking about this later. 

"Yeah, maybe," I say, giving Taehyung a small smile. "He does like his alone time."

As the afternoon wore on, the group started to leave one by one. Leaving me alone with Jungkook at the library. He claims that he knows the subject by heart and that he already finished his part for the group project of the class. He was lucky. Unfortunetly the girl who decided to team up with me convinced me she was hardworking and that we would be done with it in no time. All lies as she would never show up to any of the meetings I tried to set up with her about this damn project.  “I can help you if you want.” Jungkook says looking up from his phone. “I hear the wheels turning inside your head from here” I quickly throw him an annoyed look. “I just feel so overwhelmed. How am I supposed to present this with someone who didn’t even write a single word” 

“Well she did write like 3 paragraphs?” He tries to comfort, but it doesn’t work.

“Yeah, that I had to re-write because it didn’t make any sense.” I can feel my shoulders drop as the realization that it will be my first failed report in school. Great.  Jungkook reaches over and gently pats my shoulder. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You're smart, and you'll figure it out. Maybe we can brainstorm some ideas together?"

I sighed, appreciating his constant attempts to lift my spirits. "Thanks, JK. I might take you up on that."

The library is starting to empty out, the quiet atmosphere becoming almost too peaceful. I glance at the clock, noting that we still had a few hours before closing time. I decided to take a short break and walk over to the vending machine to get a snack. Jungkook follows, his presence comforting in the silence.

As I feed coins into the machine, Jungkook leans against the wall, his eyes fixed on me. "So, what's really bothering you? I mean, besides the project and Eli."

I hesitate, not sure if I was ready to unload everything that had been on my mind. But Jungkook's earnest expression convinced me to open up, at least a little.

"It's just... everything feels off lately," I admitt. "Eli's been acting weird, because… well, you probably know why.” I have to bite my own tongue for not spilling out that Yoongi and I made out. Not once, but twice now. ”And this project is stressing me out. I feel like I'm drowning in everything."

Jungkook nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I noticed Eli's been on edge... But you don't have to carry all this by yourself, you know? We're all here to help."

I give him a grateful smile, feeling a bit lighter. "Thanks. It helps to hear that."

We returnto our table, and I resume my work with Jungkook's support. His presence made it easier to focus, and I manage to make some progress on the project. We bounce ideas off each other, and I start to feel more confident about the upcoming presentation.

Just as I was starting to feel a bit better, my phone buzzes again. It was Jimin, of course.

Jimin: "Im still broed. Seriousljy, can't you come hangt out with mwe?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. He clearly had already his share of drinks tonight by the looks of it. "Jimin really doesn't know when to stop, does he?" I show the phone to Jk who is peeking above my shoulder.

Jungkook laughs. "Nope, but that's part of his charm. Maybe we can do something fun later, after you've finished studying."

"Maybe," I say, glancing at the time again. "I just need to wrap this up first."

As we continue working, I can’t help but think about Yoongi. His absence was gnawing at me, and I wondered what could have driven him away. Eli's reaction to his name had been telling, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions. I decide to check my phone once more and noticed that Yoongi had been active in the group chat earlier, but hadn't sent any messages since. 

The evening progresses, and the library starts to fill with the low hum of closing announcements and the gradual packing up of students. By the time we wrap up, I feel much better about the project, thanks in no small part to Jungkook’s help.

“Ready to head out?" he asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

"Yeah," I said, feeling a mix of relief and lingering stress. "Thanks for staying with me."

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. "And remember, you're not alone. We can figure all this out together."

We exit the library doors, blinking in the sudden twilight. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of the faint tang of the approaching sea. Jungkook stretched beside me, his phone clutched in his hand.

"Well, that was productive," he says, more to himself than to me. "Hopefully, your teammate will magically appear before the presentation."

I offer a weak smile. "Yeah, hopefully."

Suddenly, my phone rings in my pocket. My heart leapes – maybe it was Yoongi, finally reaching out. I pull it out, a smile faltering as I see the name on the screen: Gabi. I glance at Jungkook, who was still stretching and checking his phone. I pick up the phone with a soft smile on my lips. Jimin must have gotten into her head about going out and now its her turn to bother me. 

“Hey thank God you picked up,” her voice is shaky at the other end of the line “I need your help. Jimin’s hurt. Can you come over right now? I’m worried.” “What do you mean?” I ask her,  frowning.  Jungkook notices my sudden change in demeanor. “Everything okay?”

My eyes lock with Jungkooks as he is quick to drop the attention from this own phone. 

My breath catches. Something happened to Jimin? He had texted me not long ago about going to hang out with him. I feel a rush of panic and concern. “We came to this new bar and Jimin got into a fight. Hes not looking too good. I’ll send you our location.” She rushes and before I get the chance to reply she hangs up.

“I—Gabi says Jimin’s hurt,” I say, my voice tight with anxiety. “We have to go.”

Jungkook’s expression shifts to concern. “Do you know where they are?”

I agree quickly, looking at the directions to the bar. “Yes, she just sent me their location.”

We hurry through the darkening streets, each step heavy with worry. I try calling Gabi, but her phone went straight to voicemail. As we approache the place, the music throbbed through the night and silhouettes move on the sidewalk. My eyes scan the area, landing on two figures – one slumped against the wall, the other pacing impatiently. Relief washes over me momentarily, but then I see Jimin.

He is sprawled on the sidewalk, his hair disheveled and his clothes askew. A grimace contorted his face, clutching his stomach with a groan. Gabi hovered beside him, her face pale and streaked with tears.

"He… he got beat up," Gabi stammers, her voice cracking. "I don't know what happened!"

Jungkook kneels beside Jimin, his brow furrowed as he assesses the situation. Thankfully, there was barely any blood, but Jimin definitely looked worse for wear.

"What the hell happened?" Jungkook asks, his voice laced with concern.

"I don't know," Gabi sniffles. "We were just leaving the bar when these guys started shoving him around. They kept calling him names…" Her voice trailes off, tears welling up again.

Jimin winces as he tried to sit up. "Ugh, my head…" he mumbled, his voice slurred, as he sat back down.

I kneel beside Gabi, my own worry bubbling up. "Are you okay, Gabi?"

She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I'm scared. What if they come back?"

Just then, a group of three young men emerge from the bar, their faces flushed and their voices loud. They spott us and start swaggering over, a menacing glint in their eyes.

"Hey! Looks like the little party's still going on," one of them sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Leave us alone," Gabi says, her voice trembling.

The leader of the group scoffs. "Not until we settle the score with your little boyfriend here."

Jungkook stands up, his jaw set in a hard line. He was a big guy, but you could barely notice underneath the jacket he wore. But he radiates a quiet intensity that made me feel a flicker of hope.

"We don't want any trouble," he says calmly, though his voice holds a steely edge. "Just let us go."

The leader barks out a laugh. "Trouble? You started the trouble when your friend got mouthy with us."

The situation was escalating quickly, and I know we were outnumbered. My mind races, searching for a way out.

The tension in the air is palpable, and the group's hostile approach sent a shiver down my spine. I glance at Jungkook, who was visibly bracing himself for a confrontation. My mind desperate to find a way to defuse the situation before it got any worse.

Jungkook steps in front of Jimin protectively, his posture solid and unyielding. “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” he states firmly, though the strain in his voice was evident. “We’re just here to help our friend.”

The leader of the group’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between Jungkook and Jimin. “Help, huh? Seems like you’re just trying to play the hero. You should have thought about that before your friend decided to act tough.”

The men behind him shuffle closer, their faces etched with aggressive intent. I could see the situation spiraling out of control, and my heart pounds with fear. I take a deep breath and tried to gather all the courage in me. 

Squaring my shoulders, I rise to my feet, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Listen, gentlemen," I say, my voice surprisingly steady considering the tremor in my legs. "This is all a big misunderstanding. We're just leaving."

The leader's gaze flicks to Jungkook, who remains a stoic figure beside me. A smirk played on his lips."Misunderstanding, huh? Looks like your little boyfriend here needs a lesson in respect."

My smile falters. Respect? These guys were looking for trouble, and I wasn't about to let them take it out on Jimin. "He didn't do anything wrong," I counter, my voice gaining a touch of defiance. Maybe if I played it tough, they'd back down.

One of the guys snorted. "Yeah, right. Maybe you should teach him some manners yourself, sweetheart."

Their amusement fuel a surge of anger within me. They clearly didn't see the pepper spray nestled discreetly in the side pocket of my backpack. This wasn't a situation that called for playing nice.

With a deep breath, I reach back, my fingers brushing the cool metal canister. They didn't need to see it, just know it was there. "Look," I say, my voice dropping to a low growl. "We're not here to fight. But if you keep pushing, things could get messy. And trust me, you don't want that mess."

The leader's smirk falter for a brief moment, replaced by a flicker of something that might have been apprehension. He glances at his buddies, a silent question hanging in the air.

But then, as quickly as it appeared, the sneer returns. "Empty threats, doll?" he scoffs. "Let's see you back that up."

He takes a menacing step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab me. It was now or never.

My hand shoots into my backpack, emerging with a hiss. The pepper spray gleams in the dim streetlight, a silent warning.

The leader freezes, his eyes widening in shock. His hand retreats as if burned. The air crackles with a different kind of tension now, thick with fear.

"Maybe you should reconsider," I say, my voice leaving no room for argument. “We’re not here to fight, but if you push it…”

The leader’s smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of hesitation. He glances at his buddies, weighing the situation.

Finally, he gives a dismissive wave. “Whatever. We’re done here. Get your friend out of here and don’t come back.”

The group turns and walk away, their retreating figures dissolving into the night. As the adrenaline begin to fade, I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of relief settle in. Jungkook takes away the can from my hand and quickly analyses if I am ok. He softly squeezes my hand in reassurance, before returning to Jimin’s side, helping him to his feet as Gabi wipes her tears away. 

“Lets get him home.” He quickly says while leading the way.  Previous ✧ Next

⚀⚁⚂⚃⚄⚄⚀⚁⚂⚃⚄⚄⚀⚁⚂⚃⚄⚄⚀⚁⚂⚃⚄⚄⚀⚁⚂⚃⚄⚄

Honestly, I am quite excited with this story! Hope you guys are enjoying too! Anyway! Share your thoughts! It honestly makes my day hehe Hope you are liking it so far :)

add yourself to the TAGLIST

[aacesignco]

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[misfitwashere]

ROBERT REICH

FEB 24

Friends,

Please call your members of Congress today and tell them Elon Musk must be fired. Immediately. (The U.S. Capitol switchboard is 202-224-3121. Tell the operator where you’re from and the operator will connect you to your representatives and senators.)

This past weekend, Musk, the richest person in the world, posted a message to millions of federal employees on X — the platform he bought for $44 billion and turned into a cesspool of lies, hate, and bigotry. His message, from his own account, was:

“Consistent with President @realDonaldTrump’s instructions, all federal employees will shortly receive an email requesting to understand what they got done last week. Failure to respond will be taken as a resignation.”

Shortly afterward, all federal employees — including some judges, court staff, and federal prison officials — received a three-line email with this instruction: 

“Please reply to this email with approx. 5 bullets of what you accomplished last week and cc your manager.”

The deadline to reply was listed as today at 11:59 p.m.

Musk is drunk with power. His messages are illegal. He had no authority to send them and has no authority to fire or threaten to fire anyone. 

A Department of Justice official, granted anonymity to avoid retribution, notedthat the email was labeled as coming from an “external,” server, adding they “cannot legally respond to this” because they handle classified material.

Federal court officials instructed federal court employees not to respond to the email. “This email did not originate from the Judiciary or the Administrative Office and we suggest that no action be taken,” officials wrote.

Officials at the Departments of Defense, State, Health and Human Services, and Homeland Security; the FBI; and the office coordinating America’s intelligence agencies also told their employees not to respond.

Musk is out of his gourd. 

On Friday, at CPAC, the Conservative Political Action Conference, Musk celebrated his role in cutting the federal workforce by waving a giant chainsaw in the air, calling it “the chainsaw for bureaucracy.” 

His bonkers performance reminded me of “Chainsaw” Al Dunlap, the CEO of Sunbeam in the late 1990s, who used his “chainsaw” moniker to brag that he was cutting half of Sunbeam’s workforce. A few years later, Dunlap was convicted of accounting fraud and Sunbeam went bankrupt. 

Like Chainsaw Al Dunlap, Musk’s claims for DOGE savings are wildly exaggerated. 

Last week he claimed that DOGE saved some $16 billion in government contracts. Almost half came from a single $8 billion contract with ICE — but it was actually for $8 million, not $8 billion. 

Musk and Trump say tens of millions of “dead people” may be receiving fraudulent Social Security payments. The table Musk shared on social mediashowed about 20 million people in the Social Security Administration’s database over the age of 100 and with no known death. But as the agency’s inspector general found in 2023, “almost none” of them were receiving payments; most had died before the advent of electronic records.

Last week, members of Congress were confronted by raucous town halls where citizens complained about Musk and his chaotic and illegal tactics.

At City Hall in Roswell, a suburb of Atlanta, attendees jeered and talked over Republican Rep. Rich McCormick as they peppered him with angry questions about the DOGE cuts — and the seemingly indiscriminate way some are being carried out.

One man asked McCormick how Musk’s DOGE could fire employees at the National Nuclear Security Administration, which safeguards America’s nuclear weapons, and other federal employees who had been working to combat the bird flu outbreak. More than 1,000 workers also have been laid off from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, a major employer in Atlanta.

“Why is the supposedly conservative party taking such a radical and extremist and sloppy approach to this?” the man said as the room erupted in applause, according to videos posted on X.

In West Bend, Wisconsin, GOP Rep. Scott Fitzgerald faced a crowd of angry questioners, including one who asked, “Are you willing to use your subpoena power to tell Musk to stand in front of Congress and answer some hard questions?” 

The same question came up in Glenpool, Oklahoma, where Rep. Kevin Hern, a member of GOP leadership, was told that he wasn’t doing his job standing up to the executive branch. “We’re seeing the administration undermining Congress,” a mother with a baby in her lap told Hern, according to News9 in Oklahoma City. “Will you call Elon Musk in to testify under oath to explain what he’s doing?” asked another attendee.

Surveys by Quinnipiac University and Pew Research Center show a growing majority of Americans with an unfavorable view of Musk.

In Pew’s findings, 54 percent dislike Musk (and 36 percent report a veryunfavorable view of him), compared to 42 percent with a positive view. Quinnipiac’s results show 55 percent believe Musk has too big a role in the government.

In a new Reuters/Ipsos survey, 71 percent agree that the very wealthy have too much influence on the Trump White House, and 58 percent worry that Musk’s cuts could delay payments for Social Security and student aid. 

It hasn’t helped Musk that his cuts have been haphazard and chaotic — doing away with so many essential oversight functions that the administration has had to urgently ask workers to return. 

After hundreds of nuclear weapons workers were abruptly fired, the administration is scrambling to rehire them. 

After hundreds of scientists at the Food and Drug Administration were fired, they’re being asked to return.

Not incidentally, some of those scientists had been reviewing Musk’s Neuralink startup. The FDA had initially rejected Neuralink’s request to start clinical trials, citing safety risks, but has since given the startup approval.

Anyone smell a conflict of interest?

Musk has enough conflicts of interest across the government to make even disgraced president Warren G. Harding blush. 

He has fired workers at the FAA, which oversees his SpaceX. 

He has all but stopped work at the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, which oversees Tesla’s financing arm and a potential payment platform on X. 

His firings have affected at least 11 federal agencies (so far) that had 32 continuing investigations, pending complaints, or enforcement actions into his companies, according to a New York Times review.

These investigations include inquiries into safety violations by SpaceX and an SEC lawsuit accusing Musk of securities fraud.

The National Labor Relations Board, an independent watchdog for workers’ rights, had 24 investigations into Musk’s companies. All have been stalled following Musk’s and Trump’s firing of key agency officials. 

Musk’s SpaceX alone has $22 billion in government contracts (the total amount is unknown since a number of contracts are secret). 

If you believe Musk will go after those contracts, you might also believe that Musk’s advice to Trump that the United States should find ways to work with China has nothing to do with China being Tesla’s second-largest market. 

As if all this weren’t enough, Musk is functioning with no accountability or oversight.

Congress never confirmed his nomination to anything. No congressional committee is reviewing what he’s doing. His DOGE bros have not been vetted. He has not produced any information on his personal finances. 

In fact, no one outside a tiny circle in the White House knows what Musk is up to or how — except when he posts messages to federal employees on his personal account on X, threatening to fire them. 

Finally, here’s the biggest conflict of interest of them all: Musk’s cuts — including his coming attack on Medicaid — are a prelude to Trump’s giant tax cut mainly for the wealthy, including the richest person in the world. Unless the rest of government is dramatically scaled back, that planned tax cut would explode the federal budget deficit. 

Let me remind you that our government is supposed to be of, by, and for the people. Musk is supposed to be working for you and me and every other American. 

He’s not. He should be fired. 

Again, the Capitol switchboard number is 202-224-3121. 

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

in line with the name of your blog, do you think Maulers are cool or not? I have one in the hangar and I was planning on getting one as holiday gift for a friend of mine!

--MESSAGE DELAYED: 8 DAYS--

Maulers are quite cool. An interesting and aesthetically pleasing design.

They are good enough in my eyes that I had SLDF engineers theorycraft a custom variant for our Regular Army forces:

Mauler MAL-4Rb

Mass: 90 tons Chassis: Alshain Class 101 Power Plant: Hermes 270 XL Cruising Speed: 32.4 kph Maximum Speed: 54 kph Jump Jets: None Jump Capacity: 0 meters Armor: New Samarkand Royal Ferro-Fibrous with CASE Armament: 4 Light AC/5 2 LRM 15 2 Snub-Nose PPC Manufacturer: Luthien Armor Works, Luthien Armor Works Primary Factory: New Samarkand,Luthien Communication System: Sipher Security Plus mk.II Targeting & Tracking System: Matabushi SuperSentinel Introduction Year: 3153 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X Cost: 24,749,400 C-bills

Type: Mauler Technology Base: Mixed (Experimental) Tonnage: 90 Battle Value: 2,082

Equipment Mass Internal Structure Composite 4.5 Engine 270 XL 7.5 Walking MP: 3 Running MP: 5 Jumping MP: 0 Double Heat Sink 17 [34] 7 Compact Gyro 4.5 Small Cockpit 2 Armor Factor (Ferro) 278 14.5 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 29 43 Center Torso (rear) 14 R/L Torso 19 29 R/L Torso (rear) 9 R/L Arm 15 30 R/L Leg 19 38

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Double Heat Sink LL 2 - 1.0 Double Heat Sink CT 2 - 1.0 Caseless LAC/5 Ammo (40) RT 1 - 1.0 CASE II RT 1 - 0.5 LRM 15 RT 2 5 3.5 LRM 15 Ammo (16) RT 2 - 2.0 2 Light AC/5 RT 4 1 10.0 Snub-Nose PPC LA 2 10 6.0 2 Double Heat Sink LA 4 - 2.0 Caseless LAC/5 Ammo (40) LT 1 - 1.0 CASE II LT 1 - 0.5 LRM 15 LT 2 5 3.5 LRM 15 Ammo (16) LT 2 - 2.0 2 Light AC/5 LT 4 1 10.0 Double Heat Sink RL 2 - 1.0 Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.0 Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System HD 1 - 1.5 Snub-Nose PPC RA 2 10 6.0 2 Double Heat Sink RA 4 - 2.0

Features the following design quirks: Battle Computer, Combat Computer, Cowl, Easy to Pilot, Extended Torso Twist, Improved Communications, Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Variable Range Targeting

[swampstew]

Captain_CumShot

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Take a seat on the chaise lounge, plug your electronic device in so you can enjoy this multi-chapter, full blown smut story. The Captain is the snack and sadly, I have nothing to offer to soothe the yearning. As always, links to Wattpad and AO3 at the bottom. Enjoy, from your favorite loyal, cabin hoe♥

Summary: Eustass Kid finalized his OnlyFans account - let's hope it doesn't get reported again.

Minors DNI you will be blocked - for adult audiences only.

A digital illustration of ocean waves and a menacing looking ship sailing the waters graced the banner of the OnlyFans account, layered with a deep red, blood-stained filter over the art. Right under the seafaring artwork in bold letters spelled out Captain_CumShot, the owner of the account. A partially faded jolly roger was pinned behind the account name, as if to add to the mischievous vibe of the page.

The circular profile photo was a zoomed in snapshot of the Captain’s face. He looked dangerous – a pair of worn, welding goggles pushed back his long red hair, a red-painted, wide-mouth grin with his tongue poking between his teeth, and sharp golden eyes pierced anyone who looked upon the photo with a sly look. A long, narrow nose centered on his face, shaved eyebrows, two long scars over his left eye, and an anti-eyebrow piercing on the side of his right cheekbone accentuated his devilishly handsome face. Was the dark, liquid-like substance that stained his face blood or something naughtier? His location placed him in the great State of Desire.

Captain_CumShot’s profile page was expertly put together. The first thing one would notice was his About Me poster. Another photo of the undeniably sexy face graced the cover, this time in the middle of being splattered by a viscous looking liquid; it had the same blood-stained filter layered over it like the profile banner. The subtitle under the photo read: No Discounts - Only thirsty bitches willing to pay get to have a sip.

He had a message for his readers –

“Hiya dolls. This is the one and only page for Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid, the kind of guy all your parents warned you to stay away from. I’m terrible, toxic, and plain fucking awful for your frail little hearts, and I know that just makes you want me more. Unfortunately for you, I’m untouchable. Fret not, little dolls. Just because you can’t have a taste doesn’t mean I’ll leave you hanging. I’m nothing if not a huuuuge tease, with a huuuuuuuuge cock to back it up. Have a little morsel that I was decent enough to leave for you👇🏻 If you’re brave enough, subscribe to my page and I’ll show you the deepest, darkest pleasures that you’ve never known.”

A video with a thumbnail was below the message. From what wasn’t censored, one could see his luscious red locks falling backwards as he hung his head back, face screwed shut in the throes of pleasure.

*Press Play?*

The focal point of the camera was blurred as the massive, redhaired beast of a man stepped away from the device, allowing it to focus on its subject and present him in the highest quality. He was wearing compressed underwear and nothing more. A pile of abandoned gym clothes kicked away in a bundle off to the side of the incline bench press he stood next to as he flexed for the camera. Bulging muscles on every inch of him as he twisted and turned, all the while sneering at the camera as if to say, don’t you wish you could crawl through the screen to touch me.

He pulled off the headband from his forehead and shook his sweat-slicked hair, little droplets of perspiration reflected off the lighting in the room. An indoor gym – it must have been a personal, in-home gym or the man truly gave no fucks who saw him as he proudly began stroking his hardening cock through the dark underwear.

Using thick, red painted fingers, he bobbed his large bulge until it strained against the fabric. His balls gently jiggled behind the underwear the more he played with his cock.

“Alright, I’ll stop fuckin with ya,” he spoke in a low, gravelly voice. “You came all this way for some dick, least I can do is show ya what you’re gonna be payin’ for. It’s worth it, you’ll see.”

A small pop-up with a reminder to subscribe to his account showed before disappearing again after two seconds.

Captain_CumShot pulled his underwear off and stepped closer to the camera. His cock was beautiful. Long and thick, adorned with veins running from base to just below his tip. Engorged head redder than the rest of his shaft, the light reflected off the bead of precum that was threatening to spill out of his slit. Neatly trimmed red hair, darker than the hair on his head framed his shaft.

“Like what you see? You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he growled through his sneer, putting his headband back on before spitting in his flesh hand, returning it to his cock.

Slow, teasing strokes up and down his member, his hips buckled slightly as he tightened his grip around the head. Using his thumb, he ran the digit around the swollen tip, smearing precum down the rest of his cock before using two fingers to gently pull his sack, letting out a low groan as he let his eyes close.

“I want you to imagine,” he rasped, “You’re against this bench. And I’m gonna fuck you raw on it,” he grinned.

Turning his body to the bench press, he stood with the seated section between his legs as he pressed his cock against the smooth, black backseat. Then he started grinding against it.

He gripped the top of the bench press with his metal prosthetic, propping his flesh hand behind his back to provide a better view of his inappropriate use of the gym equipment.

“Imagine my heavy cock sliding against your warm, wet center,” he teased, hips snapping sharply. “Hitting against your most sensitive areas, making you writhe and cream against me, all before I even stuff it inside,” he cackled.

He hung his head back and let out a moan, slowing his motions in exchange for short, lazy snaps. Pulling back just enough to let his cock bob freely, a line of precum clinging to his tip and the bench.

“Mmmm, I normally go for much longer but this is a so-called teaser to draw you in to subscribe. Keep that in mind when you think of me when you’re alone. Or maybe when you’re out in public, I like kinky sluts like that.”

Moving the camera stand closer to the bench press, Eustass Kid moved back to his starting position and pace on the equipment. He spit in his hand again and coated his cock before he slapped it against the material of the bench, putting all his body weight against his cock as he grinded against it once more. Shoulder muscles tightened under his alabaster skin as he used both arms to steady himself, the camera’s titled angle allowed for a delicious view of his panting face, his flexing muscles, and on his pulsing cock as he shamelessly rut on the bench. Moaning loudly as he brought himself closer.

“Wh-where, where would you want me, I wonder,” his long tongue between his grit teeth as he panted. “I know my loyal cabin hoes would let me finish inside,” he winked. “Ah ah! Fu-fuck!” escaped from him as he let out a few final thrusts.

The tip of his cock turned a dark shade of red as all his blood pooled. Twitching, he let out ropes of thick, gooey cum that smeared and ran down the angles incline. White streaks sliding down around his cock as he lazily thrusted as he rode out his orgasm.

“Hnnghh, fuck yeah,” he breathed. “That’s just the first round. I have a lot of stamina. Vids are short for upload reasons but if you want, long, torturous, and sinful content, make sure you subscribe to gain access to my live streams. You’ll be creaming your pants and begging me for more. Check out the tiers, the bonuses, and my wishlist. The more you thirsty whores pay me, the nastier I’ll get. See ya inside,” he winked again, blowing the camera a kiss as he slapped his cock against the bench press before a still frame of his prices took over the screen.

Captain_CumShot’s Main Menu:

Tier I – Deck Swabber – access to content 1 month prior to subscribing, access to videos and cumshot photo gallery.

Tier II – Sea Wenches – all treats in the first tier, plus access to professional pin-up photo gallery, access to content 2 months prior to subscribing, and access to live streams.

Tier III – Cabin Hoes – all treats in the first two tiers, plus sexting (messaging only), a lewd monthly calendar template, access to all published content prior to subscribing, and personally catered 60-second degradation videos.

Pay me or buy me shit off my wishlist and I’ll let you see my menu of forbidden treasures. More add-ons, services, treats, and surprises only for loyal hoes inside.

It lasted for 20 seconds before the video continued on for the last 15 seconds. The camera zoomed in on the cumshot on the bench press. A thick, white puddle pooled on the sitting section as it dripped from the risen back section. The camera showed off the streaks of viscous, opaque lines that ran down from the angled section from where his seed had initially hit. The camera’s view went back to the puddle, where a red nail dipped into the thick of it, dragging his essence downwards until the video ended.

Leave a like to tip OR hit the reblog button to subscribe.

Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3

[dlstmxkakwldrlarchive]

SHINee show their love through their 8th full-length album HARD.

[...] SHINee's new song "JUICE" is a high-tempo hip-hop dance song centered on energetic rap, a bass line that leaves a strong impression, and brass sound.The lyrics contain a message that shows you falling deeply in love with someone who enjoys their life and that you should live every moment of your life worthwhile with confidence.

"Satellite," is an electronic pop song that compares a situation where you can't get close to your lover to a satellite, with dreamy claves and flux synths leading the overall song and a strange mood between major and minor compositions.

"Like It" is a dance pop song featuring a synth theme line that repeatedly appears on a cheerful beat, and its rhythmical vocal line and falsetto chorus pad added charm to the song.

[fleckcmscott]

Hearth and Home

Summary: During Christmas in Missouri, Arthur learns - and Y/N relearns - how to celebrate with family.

Words: 6,525

Warnings: None

A/N: This little piece is based on a request from @jokerownsmysoul, as well as a continuation of Haunted Heart. Please enjoy this very tardy holiday story! 😂 Thank you to @jokerownsmysoulfor not only making the request, but also beta-ing the first draft. Much appreciation to @sweet-nothings04and @forever-fleck for helping with the intro pic! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Christmastide hadn't yet crept into Gobler Mall, but it'd slid halfway through the door and propped it open.

A cardboard sleigh advertised Santa's imminent arrival. Kiosks selling Dead Sea Salt body scrubs and smoked cheeses were buried in unopened boxes of merchandise. A man in a green janitor's uniform hung honeycomb snowflakes from the center atrium, his ladder buttressed against the second story's balcony wall. 

The anchor store in the east wing had outraced its competitors to win the gold. A twenty-foot tree stood in the center of Hecht's Fineries, plastic branches reaching out to entice customers past cosmetics to a world of sporting goods, toys, and electronics.

Y/N pushed a shopping cart through Today's Woman, the fashion department situated between cookware and shoes. Right on her heels, Arthur browsed with the exuberance of a boy who knew exactly what to write on his Christmas list. Adorable, yes. Contagious and delightful? Certainly. The magic of the season permeated the air whenever he was near.

But if he didn't lose her trail soon, surprising him would be impossible.

They'd brought a small selection of gifts from Gotham. Curry pastes from Siam Market and a Glob's Gourmet Pickles sampler (which had, thankfully, remained intact during their flight). But with limited luggage space, they'd settled on buying most here. A quilted jewelry box appeared a good fit for Ruthie, and with Jason pretending he'd grown out of comic books, they'd chosen a leather baseball glove for him. That left a Mr. Wizard Ecology Kit for Brian and a set of Read-A-Long books on tape for Ashley.

Now they had to settle on what to get Mabel and Ed. And each other.

"I dunno what she likes," Arthur told Y/N, flipping through a circular rack of blouses. Hangers squealed along a metal rod, an atonal chorus. "She dresses more casually than you, but she still looks nice." A one shoulder shrug concluded the observation.

Y/N leaned onto the cart's handle. "A good rule to go by is, if I'd hate it, she'd love it. Wait, that might work." She raised her hand to stop the search. He held out a horizontally striped pullover, black and confident pink illuminated by metallic threads.

A sharp nod answered his knotted brow. "It's definitely her."

As they made their way to the register, a row of mannequin busts caught his gaze. Decked out in festive finery, they wore sweaters thick enough to warm the skinniest soul. He strolled the length of the display, hands clasped at the small of his back, mocha curls brushing his shoulders. He stopped at a crewneck two-thirds of the way down.

Flocked plus signs spanned the shoulders and chest, like a blanket of light snow. Alternating patterns of stars and deer came next, followed by a swathe of rich maroon, the same color as his suit. An odd design, to be sure, but fashionable. The trendiest thing ever to have a chance at moving into Arthur's closet.

When his thin lips pursed, she sidled next to him. Shopping for others didn't mean he couldn't consider himself. "You'd look gorgeous in that," she said.

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." She reached for it with a seductive slowness. "Should we get it now or wait for Santa?"

On a hitched laugh, he stole it from her fingertips and got in line.

~~~~~

Carrying a tray of Morrison's Cafeteria broiled chicken, yellow rice, and two diet cokes, Mabel zigzagged through grey tables to a four-top on the periphery of the food court, where Y/N guarded Radio Shack and Sears bags with the promise not to peek. Though not much of a splurger, she was surprisingly fun to shop with. Admiring window displays, suggesting gifts for Ed and Arthur. Mabel had needed that quality time, another chance to be Big and Little Sis. 

Ever a rocket about to lift off, Ashley bounced on a stack chair beside Y/N. The other three children were in school, busy learning their ABCs. Sun cascaded through skylights, brought out honey blonde streaks in the toddler's hair. Y/N took a blue crayon from a RoseArt three-pack and pointed to a spot on a paper placement, an instruction to make the first move in a tic-tac-toe game. In a fit of giggles, the girl clapped and drew an X over the entire grid. 

A mix of joy and pensiveness twisted Mabel's heart.

Fed by losing her mom at twenty-four, she braced against the possibility of not being there. New milestones brought happiness - but they also reminded her she'd be fifty when her youngest was a freshman in high school. Nights of four-hour naps and days filled with play and homework took a lot more out of her than motherhood had a decade ago. There were moments exhaustion seeped so deeply into her bones she could've slept standing up.

Once Ashley was sent to a coin-operated carousel ride a couple yards away, Mabel confided to Y/N. "Don't get me wrong. I'd do anything for them. I just thought they'd all be in school by now." She rolled straw paper between thumb and forefinger. "Mom never seemed to get tired. But chasing Ashley around, I feel like I'm ready for the retirement home."

"She has parents who are older and wiser. Who know when they were too strict with the others and not strict enough. Isn't that a good thing?" Y/N tore a final piece of chicken off the bone and touched her toes to Mabel's. "You want to be mom. But you can't be. No one could. Just be yourself. You've always been more than enough, Able Mabel."

Blinking moisture from her eyes, Mabel dipped her chin. Was it middle-aged that'd mellowed Y/N, made her better at comfort rather than immediate investigation? Or had Arthur nurtured her heart by giving it a place to rest? Whatever the cause, it was a welcome change.

With the success of her second marriage, however, maybe she could solve a little, too. 

Mabel pushed abandoned grains of rice with her spoon. "I had been looking forward to having more time with Ed."

"Has he gone back to working around the clock?"

"No, no. He's home for dinner every night. But with school projects and potty training and story hour and baseball practice and scouting... Sometimes I forget what it's like to be a wife." A sip of coke as she checked on Ashley. The girl continued to ride in circles. "You love being a wife," Mabel continued. "What's the longest you and Arthur have gone without...you know."

Y/N dabbed at her mouth with the corner of her napkin. After a moment, she gave a small shrug. "A month or two?"

Mabel's jaw hung open. "That's it?" It'd been nearly six for she and Ed. Their last attempt had been cut short by Ruthie's knock on their bedroom door to ask for water - just as her underwire had been unhooked. They'd left a glass on her nightstand every night thereafter. But the spark continued to elude.

"Our lives are quieter," Y/N said, waving the unspoken comparison away. "And you've been married, what, eighteen years? That's much longer than four. Have you talked about this at all with Ed?"

A resigned sigh heaved out of Mabel. "Whenever I start, something comes up."

"It doesn't have to be a long, drawn-out trial. Maybe you can suggest listening to Dr. Sally. Have you heard of her? She's from Gotham and Arthur swears by her. He says she taught him everything he knows. Well, everything he knew before we..." Crimson colored her cheeks, her lips pressed together in a pensive grin. "I don't know if I should tell you, but- Can you keep a secret?"

Mabel grasped the bottom of her chair and hopped it forward. "I love secrets."

"When he and I met, he hadn't been with a woman before. Not like that, anyway."

Nose wrinkled, Mabel tilted her head, her entire face squinting. No, Arthur wasn't her type. But she knew a good man when she met one. And a good looking man when she saw one. "How is that possible?"

Y/N snorted, loud enough to muffle it with the back of her hand. "That was my reaction. It was a lot of pressure; I don't think Arthur realizes that. But I wanted him and loved him and that won out.

"I asked him once if he felt like he'd missed out on anything, having only been with me. He said no, because he's comfortable with me and knows I care about him. Anyway, he gave Dr. Sally full credit for being wonderful. I'm sure the show is syndicated down here."

The twinkle of romance and true love in her sister's eye left Mabel fully convinced. She picked up a crayon and folded the placemat in half. "I'll call the local radio stations."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Ed and Arthur rode the escalator to the mall's second story. For Ed, it was the only escalator in the county. For Arthur, it was simply a way to get upstairs. 

He trailed his brother-in-law past a soap and scented candle shop, an avalanche of perfume pouring out of the place. A silver engraving shop stood to their left, hawking the likes of picture frames, wedding cake serving sets, and doorknobs. They dodged a group of teenagers who should've been in school to arrive at a glass storefront tucked into the corner.

City Drawers' cursive sign was a thrill in pink neon. Muzak masquerading as jazz sounded through the open entrance. Two mannequins stood in the shop's windows, illuminated by spotlights at their feet. One wore a lace bra and panty set, the other a diaphanous camisole with a cowl neck. A hanging sign announced a sale on Maidenform: Buy one, Get one half off.

Arthur chewed his thumbnail.

Donahue's and L. Ballinger carried styles both he and Y/N liked, without intimidating buckles or oddly placed straps. Specialty shops were expensive. Though he'd happily picture her in every display, going to a boutique bordering on Adults Only made shopping an event he had the wrong ticket to, purchased for a week-old show. 

With a casualness Arthur envied, Ed crossed the black tile threshold, stealing Arthur's chance to back away and backtrack to Hecht's.

Forcing out a breath, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Made the decision to get over himself and stepped into the welcoming peach interior.

Low lighting gave the shop an air of intrigue, flattered the stitching, the promised silhouette of each item. A woman and high school student discussed the finer points of choosing a first bra. ("You don't want it to stick out too much under your sweaters." "Mom!") Cheeks on fire, he turned away from the conversation meant for mothers and daughters to see a husband and wife modeling satin robes. A cashier dressed like a consummate professional, as if she belonged in Y/N's office, told a woman in a puffy coat that underwear was returnable only if unopened.

Ed closed in on a Christmas display to the left, where a scantily clad mannequin wore a Mrs. Claus mob hat. He grabbed a Santa red negligee and gave it a once over. "Think Mabel'd like this?" he asked, thrusting it towards Arthur.

One glance at the faux fur trimmed neckline and it was clear Y/N would hate it. "She'd love it."

Relief palpable in his easy smile, Ed nodded his thanks and headed to the Famous Fragrances cabinet at the rear of the shop.

Arthur slinked along the wall, passing feather boas and garter belts. (The black one with pale pink roses on the hips was an omen to follow when they returned to Gotham City.) A man on the hunt for a gift that wouldn't be embarrassing to give his wife in front of her family. In front of her nephews and nieces.

Forgotten on a bottom shelf under dust and elbow length gloves, he found his trophy.

Knee high wool socks, lilac and knit in a pointelle pattern akin to lace. He took the pair in his grasp, ran his fingertips from cuff to toe. Every past piece of thrift store wool had been a scouring pad on his skin. These were smooth, buttery. He could imagine her calves wrapped up in these subtle cousins to stockings, a long-awaited present under the tree.

A lyric came to mind, an old song he'd gone too long without hearing. Humming a few bars, he sang in his head. You're the starch in my collar, you're the lace in my shoe...

Arthur hurried to the register, but turned back at the last second and stuck the garter belt under his arm.

He placed the socks on the counter, indicated them with his chin. "Can you put those in a box? With a ribbon on it?" He slid the garter across the surface and leaned forward. "And could you please wrap this separately?"

~~~~~

Snug in the tub, Y/N's eyelids fell shut as she massaged almond shampoo into her scalp. The circling slowed as she exhaled contentment. After cramming two major holidays and the preparations for a third into a mere nine days, she'd savor this second to relax. 

The notion twisted the corner of her mouth, a crescent of irony. 

That she'd be able to relax here at all would've been laughable before, when shadows had lurked in every corner and out in the open to confront her with what she'd lost. Arthur's compassion and Mabel's letting the subject of their parents alone now allowed Y/N to cope on her own terms. 

The adjoining guestroom wasn't simply her father's former office, where she'd been forced to accept the gravity of Henry's diagnosis. It was also a bedroom where she could rest at the end of the day. The bathroom was more than an old examination room, forest green and warm, where her father had crowned his four-year-old daughter with a head mirror and tested her reflexes. It was a place unwind. To cleanse her skin and her heart. Twin threads of past and present that entwined themselves into a semblance of peace.

Locks rinsed and detangled, she swiped her hair back and reached for her wet-dry electric razor.

A light tap tap rapped at the door.

She'd recognize her husband's Excuse Me knock anywhere. But with a full house, doublechecking was safer. "Who is it?"

"It's Arthur."

At her instant invitation, he slid through the door. He'd donned his maroon sweater - as he had every day since she'd told him he'd look gorgeous in it.

She'd been right.

He tucked a stray curl behind his ear and turned towards the toilet. "Sorry, the other bathroom's busy. I'll be quick." He lifted the cover and seat and unzipped his trousers. 

Razor perpendicular to her shin, she started to drag it in a straight line to her knee. 

It sputtered like an old engine, gaining and losing speed in an attempt to complete its mission. She hit the bottom with the heel of her hand. Flipped the switch off and back on. A pathetic whirr, which slowed to a worrying grind. Then a final, sad stop.

With a huff, she set it on the tub's corner shelf. "I should've charged this before we left."

He shook himself off, cocked his head her way. "Maybe Mabel has one? I can go check."

"You don't have to bother."

Arthur waved her off, insisted it wasn't one at all. He rinsed his hands and stepped out. Grin tight enough to pinch, she scrubbed at her armpits and breasts. Noted a hair by her aerola she'd have to pluck later. The washcloth slid across her stomach, the feminine swell of her abdomen. A quick dip between her legs.

The door swung ajar. Extending his palm with a flourish, Arthur beamed down at her.

Eyes wide, the entirety of her attention shot to the Pink Daisy Gillette.

She hadn't used a wet razor for five years, had banished them from the apartment as soon as he'd agreed to move in. Since he'd asked her to keep them away from him. Sure, if a matter was important, she was a risk taker. Being stubble free for one extra day didn't make the cut.

Y/N reached to take it from him. A bit too fast. "Thank you."

"Actually, I-" He held the forbidden object in front of his chest, twirled it between anxious fingers. "I'd like to do it."

She drew her feet inward. Concern felt silly, an unwelcome heckler. A true intrusion on their intimacy. But given Arthur's history, it made sense. And Dr. Ludlow had agreed keeping razor blades out of the apartment was a good idea.

As if able to read her thoughts, he winced at the floor, a move that felt too close to shame. He spoke with the wounded dignity of the earnest yet disbelieved. "I've been okay for a long time now."

An ache pressed her sternum, for she did indeed believe him. He'd trusted her two years ago, had taken the good with the very, very bad. Shouldn't she be able to trust him? Refrain from making a normal activity - a loving gesture he'd asked for - a crossroads to crisis? 

She pushed the worries from her throat with an ahem. "You're right. I'm sorry."

His handsome visage instantly brightened. 

Loosening her legs, she wrung out her washcloth. "You're going to get all wet."

"I'll dry."

"What about your pants?"

"They come off."

It was said without guile, but she chuckled, anyway. She retrieved the soap. Worked up a good lather. Smoothed suds down her left leg.

His teeth pressed his lower lip in an eager grin. Perching on the rim of the tub, he pushed his sleeves to his elbows. Bent to pluck her towel from the floor and cover his lap. A secure hold on her heel as he pulled her into position.

Gently, he laid the blade a centimeter below her knee and drew it towards him. A glance of a touch.

"A little harder," she said. "Leg hair is stubborn."

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't." She lay in the curved end of the tub. "How old were you when you started to shave?"

"Fourteen, I think." A soft, closed-mouth laugh. "One night, when Penny and her boyfriend were gone? I stole his razor and shaving cream. I must've used half the can." Short scrapes at the front of Y/N's ankle. "I pressed so hard to get through all the foam, I got a burn. It hurt so bad. My mother asked what was wrong with my face. I told her I'd been out in the sun too long - in February."

Giggling, Y/N tossed her head back. "I'm sure you were very convincing. Speaking of which: I have to convince Mabel to tone it down for Christmas."

"Isn't that why she invited us down here?"

"Yes, but she's going to cook herself to death." At Thanksgiving, Y/N hadn't been able to see the table for all the food. What with their household being too small for a full spread, she and Arthur stuck to a chicken or a couple of turkey breasts. "She likes to make a big dinner for Christmas Eve and a breakfast buffet in the morning."

The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "We could make dinner and breakfast."

Y/N gulped against unbidden images floating to the surface. She hadn't cooked a holiday meal here for eight years, and the last had been an exercise in heartbreak. Mashed up food, saliva on cotton, fear pretending to be revulsion on the faces of her family. Benji's Very Own Christmas Story on TV to tide keep her father calm and an entire bottle of Sanatogen to calm herself. 

Yet, the idea was lovely, a reflection of her husband's generosity and kindness. Putting her baggage on him would be ungenerous and unkind. And, just maybe, it could be an opportunity she wouldn't have taken on her own.

She studied the ripples in the water. Concentrated on the pressure of his fingertips on her skin. Glides of metal and aloe. "Stroganoff?"

"That's special for us." Arthur squeezed the subtle half-moon of her calf.

Fuzzy fluttering fleeted through her, at the squeeze and the us. They decided on glazed ham, a dish her mother had made every year. Y/N made a mental note to peruse the oldBetter Homes & Gardens cookbook, the checkered one with the side pocket. "We can make garlic mashed potatoes, too. If we double the recipe, it'll be enough for eight." Broccoli and cheese casserole would serve as a second side, of which Arthur would claim all the crispy corners. Stuffing out of three boxes. All that was left was dessert.

He shook the razor in the bathwater. "Gingerbread's good."

"I'll add a can of whipped cream to the grocery list."

Pecking the arch of her foot, he scooted along the tub's rim. Angled her leg so that her thigh rested on his. The razor whispered a line within an inch of her groin. Puffs of her breath skimmed her flesh. Her tendons tightened. Her knee jerked against his touch.

He knelt beside the tub to gather water in his hands. Slipped them down her legs. He rinsed her again, his expression melting into satisfaction. "You're beautiful," he said, palm sliding to her hip. His green gaze dropped to her mouth, his caress now a firm grip.

Then his lips seized hers.

A startled gasp jolted her. 

What Arthur had just done was romantic. Wonderful. An act out of a shared fantasy. If they'd been anywhere else, a delicious weight would've warmed her belly. But that old forest green seeped in at the edges of her mind's eye, pulled the thread of past askew. Now that weight felt like a bowling ball.

She broke off the kiss. Embarrassed whispers between bottled breaths. "Arthur, I-" Her fingers curled, a loose fist by his cheek. "I can't. Not here."

Drops fell from his wrist to her sternum. Charted paths to the notch at the base of her throat. Silence weighed down on her, a whole league's worth of bowling balls.

Swallowing, she raised her eyes to meet his. 

When they did, understanding softened his brow. His voice was low, soft. A comfort as powerful as present thread. "It's okay." He retreated to sit on his heels and dry his hands, chestnut waves falling to frame his sculpted cheeks. He stood and bent to peck the top of her head. "You better do that other leg yourself." With that, he turned to leave.

She scrambled to sit up. "Arthur?"

Hand on the doorknob, he looked back at her.

"I love you," she said.

Dimples deepening, he bestowed a shy, radiant smile. "I know."

~~~~~

Mabel placed the Santa mug with the candy cane handle on the windowsill to finish trimming the tree. It was situated by the front window, about a yard from the guestroom. Ed and Jason had disappeared to the basement to search for decorations. One of Ruthie's favorite records played, John Denver and the Muppets' A Christmas Together. 

Arthur knelt beside Mabel. On the opposite side of the living room, Y/N and the three youngest children worked on paper snowflakes in the play corner. Few words had passed between them, but the quiet was the kind that belonged to old marrieds who were confident in their choice of each other. Irritated, in love, invested. There'd be no running to the watering hole today.

Nevertheless, Mabel sought to gladden the place. Trimming the tree was one of her favorite rituals, right up there with reading The Night Before Christmas and stuffing stockings. There was no way she'd allow grumpiness to gel into gloom.

Digging through a popcorn tin overflowing with ornaments, each wrapped carefully in a sandwich bag, she said, "Don't be surprised if the munchkins are knocking on your door at five tomorrow." 

"That's okay. I don't let Y/N sleep in on Christmas." He hung a stained-glass rocking horse on a middle branch of the artificial tree. "You know, she still has the cookie you made her when you were kids. In the toy oven."

"Does she really?" 

"She hangs it up every year."

Mabel retrieved another satin bauble, this one from the Keepsake series of ornaments. "Holidays are happy when friends are together" it declared. The phrase brought a pleasant smile to her face and a quickening to her heart. 

Y/N's offer to give her a break by preparing Christmas dinner had been a surprise, a true act of affection Mabel had to accept. But when Y/N had said she was going to prepare everything herself, Arthur's brow furrowed into one thick caterpillar. It was an obvious deviation from how this conversation was supposed to go. 

Familiar with how hard it was on him to feel shut out, Mabel rescued Arthur from his skepticism with an invitation to make dessert. Dessert wasn't technically a part of dinner and therefore fair game. Though she'd planned on chocolate and pecan pinwheels, they settled on gingerbread cookies and spent the morning rolling dough and downing coffee. 

During their third round of cookie cutting, she'd said, "These are perfect. Have you made them before?" 

"Penny had a gingerbread recipe on the wall in the kitchen," he'd said. Another drummer boy emerged from the brown dough. "I can't remember making it, but I know I dropped a bag of flour. She smeared it on our faces and told me, 'Every real cook has flour on his cheeks.'"

Mabel's laugh had dissolved into a wistful sigh. From what Y/N had shared, discussions about his childhood were rare and memories that made him smile even rarer. With a sprinkle of flour on both their noses, they'd put the cookie sheet on the middle oven rack and set the timer.

Miss Piggy's shrill plea for five golden rings cut through the recollection. Eyelid twitching, Mabel straightened the hanger of a Baby's First Christmas ceramic bootie and called to her sister. "Remember when we were kids, and we'd sing along to the radio?"

With a nod, Y/N folded white construction paper into a triangle. "And at the Silver Spur." She sang softly, a relief from the record's caterwauling. "Country road, take me home to the place I belong-"

"Gotham City," Mabel joined in. "Jersey highway."

The twitch teasing Arthur's chin defied the set of his jaw.

"When you put it like that, you almost make it sound romantic," Y/N said. 

Just then, Ed thudded into the room, lugging a box of plastic garland. Haphazard leaves and berries sprouted from the cardboard box. Nose buried in an LCD hockey game, Jason followed close behind. Ed asked, "Hey, do you do any Christmas standup shows?"

"One or two at the usual clubs." Arthur stood to toss handfuls of Brite Star tinsel at the tree. "How did the wife get her husband to go to the office party?"

"Jason, put that away and help me with this." Ed plunked the box to the carpet with a groan. "I don't know. How?"

"By telling him, 'yule love it.'" An elongated u for pun's sake.

Stifling a giggle, Mabel shook her head. His jokes hadn't gotten much better, but his ability to make her smile won her over. 

"And it always works."Y/N extricated herself from scraps of paper, then checked her watch. "I better start dinner," she said, and excused herself from the room.

In her peripheral vision, Mabel caught Arthur's rapid blink. His posture threatened to deflate like an old tire. "I thought she was doing better this time," he mumbled.

"She is, Arthur. She is." In the manner of a mother assigning a sullen son the most important task - as her own mother had done for her after Y/N had moved out - Mabel patted his shoulder. "If you could find the tree topper, that'd be a big help."

~~~~~

Arms folded across his chest, Arthur braced himself on the doorframe, careful to keep his toes on the foyer side of the floor's transition strip and off the kitchen linoleum.

The side of Y/N's hand smoothed a crimson tablecloth over the oblong dining table. She laid a plastic wreath in the middle, completed the centerpiece with three ivory candles inside the ring. She retrieved eight quilted placemats featuring Christmas geese from the drawer to the left of the stove and pulled cloth napkins from the cupboard to the right. She knew where everything was without asking. As if she'd left here yesterday.

When he'd suggested making dinner, bumming around while Y/N roleplayed 1978 wasn't what he'd had in mind. Standing by like an extra as she measured brown sugar and honey. Loitering while she shoved broccoli in Corning Ware and sprinkled it with cheese.

Given that it didn't quite fit her bustline, the velveteen, emerald halter dress she wore must've been borrowed from Mabel. Y/N's hair was feathered in the usual manner, but with extra body that meant she'd used mousse and a curling iron. Earth tone makeup highlighted her natural prettiness, save for the red stain on her lips. Poinsettias dangled from her ears, a Beauty Boutique original. 

She opened a panel cabinet over the sink, then grabbed a stepstool to peek inside. Kitten-heeled foot extended behind her, she retrieved a stack of plates. Her shoe threatened to fall to the floor. When she teetered, he offered to steady her. But she declined. Descended backwards step by step. Put the plates on the counter with a soft but unwavering "I've got it."

His cheek ached from gnawing. Out of respect for her, he hadn't argued in front of her sister. But doing this as a couple - as a family - had been what he'd craved.

So he slid across the linoleum to inspect the plates. Trace his thumb over the cheery holly motif along the edges.

She whisked the dishes away. "I'll light the candles when the food is done," she said, a hitch in her voice she failed to hide.

He half-turned to her. Noted the upward draw of her shoulders, elbows tight at her sides. She set matching tumblers at the two o'clock positions by each plate. He longed to fold the cloth napkins. He longed to take out the cutlery.

He longed to pry.

Lips pressed to a sore line, he recalled their fight when he'd cornered her in the shower, one of the worst arguments they'd ever had. He was loathe to follow that road again. Instead, he grabbed a cooking spoon, stirred the mashed potatoes, and searched for compromise. 

Before he could err, she crossed to stand two feet from him. Leaning back against the counter, she gripped the Formica edge with both hands. Her fingers went white.

"When I lived here," she started. "I did all the Christmas decorating and cooking. I loved it. It was a day I could pretend my life was normal, just for an hour or two. Mabel and Ed would bring the kids. We'd drink cocoa and open gifts and have a little fun. Except that last year."

Arthur's stirring slowed, every fiber waiting with want for all of it. All of her.

"I wanted to keep my spirit up or touch my dad in some way." A familiar, familial word she never used. It was always father. "But the harder I tried, the worse it was. He wouldn't eat and wouldn't stop crying. When I washed him, he tried to push me away, but he was too weak - his arms were matchsticks. He must've been scared - he wasn't really with it by then. And he scared Mabel and the kids and..."

Lashing fluttering, she sucked her teeth. "The man who'd nurtured me, who'd loved me, wasn't there anymore. He was possessed by a stranger I didn't want to know. And being here - having to stay in this house - was like trying to live inside a ghost."

In spite of the watery tenor of her voice, she offered Arthur a tremulous smile. "Tonight it doesn't feel so haunted." 

An anxious dam gave way, crumbling to flood love through his frame. He understood, then. Doing all this by herself standing here alone, was a ritual to exorcise her past. He reached for her wrist, pulled her to his side with one arm. When she put her head on his shoulder, he dropped the cooking spoon into the goopy mass. 

Her palms pressed his back. "I'm happy to be able to share this part of me now." 

"Me, too. I mean, I'm happy you shared it with me, too." He buried his face in her hair, let out a huff equal parts support and relief. "I want you to share everything."

Seconds of silence before her lips made a smacking sound on her teeth, and he knew she was grinning.

Ever the woman to push down her feelings a tad too quickly (except for love; thank whatever was listening there was always love), she stepped out his arms, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. The crockpot let out an air raid warning of a beep.

She took a box of matches from the corner of the windowsill above the sink and pressed it into his palm. Offered a luminous look and invited him into her past. "You light the candles and I'll serve."

~~~~~

Blue wrapping paper with silver bells and holly. Little bears wishing little ones Merry Christmas on pine green. Gold and red foil interweaving in an intricate scroll. The four-by-four space under the tree contained enough color and excitement to fill a North Pole workshop.

Hair tugged into a haphazard ponytail and replete in fuzzy slippers, Mabel dropped onto a chair next to Ed and attempted to squint away her dull headache. The adults had stayed up until 1:00 AM last night, wrapping boxes, drinking cocoa, and carrying on. After dinner, Arthur had nibbled at the gingerbread cookies until he'd had to take two Tums - then surprised everyone by claiming the last slice of Thanksgiving's pumpkin pie.

Clad in their lazy morning best, Arthur and Y/N sat hip to hip in front of the tree. She'd yanked on the lavender socks with the enthusiasm of having found a long-lost treasure. He munched on the macadamia nuts Mabel had thought would make a lame gift, but Y/N had insisted he'd love. The cowhide wallet she'd given him lay open on his lap, the card slot's gold leaf letters reading "A + S" followed by a heart on display. Cheesy. Seemingly out of character for Big Sis. But she glowed whenever she talked about him. She'd gotten starry eyed about Jeff but never glowed. 

Once she'd unwrapped Mabel's present to her, she held it in both hands but hesitated to open it. The photo album risked melancholy, but Mabel hoped Y/N would be able to find joy, too. 

"Those are photos of us," Mabel assured her. At that, Y/N lifted the front cover. The first was a black and white featuring four year old Y/N cross-legged on the floor, the new baby in her arms, a big grin on her face. "I took the best pictures from all of mom and dad's photo albums. They start from when we were little and go until our visit last year. And there are blank pages for more." 

Hugging the album to her chest, Y/N made a promise. "There'll be more. A lot more."

Ruthie helped Ashley put one of her Wuzzles reading cassettes in her Fisher Price tape player, while Ashley patted Ruthie's jewelry box's quilted surface as if it were a cat. Jason let Brian try out his new baseball mitt, and Brian put his feet on the coffee table and flipped through his Experiments in Ecology book. 

Ed's morning breath stank of garlic from gourmet pickles. Already wearing his new Casio calculator watch, he flipped through the manual of the AT&T cordless phone, a gift Mabel hoped meant Y/N wanted more phone calls. The Thai script on the curry pastes was something Mabel had never seen before, but Y/N promised that if she could cook with them, anyone could figure it out. ("Just add vegetables and chicken and you're good.")

When Mabel unwrapped the present from her hubby, she recognized the logo as soon as she glimpsed the outline of a petal. She'd kept the box shut. Warmth enveloped her. He'd made her feel beautiful again, in that special way she'd reminisced. In the way that belonged to them. 

No matter what she'd confided in the mall, the moments she struggled were worth it. Still there, still hard. But she'd do her best to follow her sister's advice. Make sure to enjoy herself as a mother, a wife, and herself. 

And Dr. Sally would remain on-call.

Mabel called Ruthie to her side and spoke in her ear. Loud enough for all to hear but quiet enough to make the girl feel special. "Can you and your brothers set the table?" 

Ruthie nodded and skipped her way to the foyer. When the boys remained glued to the sofa, Ed rose with a Come On, Sons gesture. Arthur plucked a candy cane from tree, then plucked Ashley from the carpet and carried her to the kitchen.

Mabel grabbed a purple bow from the carpet, winced as she straightened, a barbel rolling from her forehead to her neck. "The next time you suggest spiking a drink, remind me to say no."

Anchoring herself on the coffee table, Y/N moved to stand. "I'll put on an extra pot of coffee." She gathered strewn wrapping paper and ribbon and crumpled them into a ball. "Make sure you take it easy when Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around."

"Ed's parents are hosting," Mabel said, and waved off her concern. With his sister stuck in Michigan this year, it'd be a smaller gathering. With his big brother around, Ed would regress to being the youngest as soon as he smelled a pie in the oven.

Arms overflowing, they padded towards the kitchen. But they lingered halfway there to bask in the magic of Not Quite Christmas. 

Ed worked around the kids, handing them plates, directing where to put them. Arthur retrieved a mixing bowl and frying pan in preparation for cinnamon French Toast, a tradition he'd brought from the Fleck household. While Ed searched the cupboards, Arthur crouched beside Ashley, who laughed at her uncle between rounds of peek-a-boo.

"You made this visit beautiful, Mabel. Mom would be proud of you." Y/N freed up an arm and hugged her at the waist. Spoke the words Mabel had longed to hear for the better part of a decade. The words that made the wheels of self-forgiveness run ten times faster. "After all these years, I think we both found what we've been looking for."

Elated, Mabel dropped the paper to the floor. "I know I have." She seized Y/N about the middle, hard enough to lift her to her toes. "I know we have."

~~~~~

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