#I make them but I wanna see people make more

[booplesnotts-art]

Everyone’s favourite resident mother

Hated my last Alcina drawing so finally did a better one😌

This time in colour too gasp she’s on a role

[ciceroprofacto]

Few additions as someone who struggled with this in undergrad because I was disorganized:

Yes, start with your bibliography. if you see a good source and wanna jump right into it- either because you're already focused or you're not sure if you'll use it and don't wanna waste time, it's enough to get the author's name or a key word of the title down. Just slap it at the end in parenthesis and highlight it to fix later. You don't need to do a perfect citation on the first draft, but you need something that will trigger your memory to where you found it.

In academia, you need a source for every idea, even if you had it on your own. Even if it seems really obvious. (I know- this one got me too). Think about it this way- sources aren't just a demonstration of where you found info, they're also a demonstration that the info is coming from multiple reputable places. It's either "I got this from here" or "these people think so too". Never these are my thoughts. That's not a thing. Your thesis might be the one thing you claim, and even then, it shouldn't seem like it's coming from you. It should be the conclusion your reader draws from the arguments you're presenting. If you're doing it right, you might not even have to say it. Erase the idea of 'State your thesis' and think about it as 'Argue your thesis' because you're not saying what you think, you're presenting evidence of why you think it.

ALWAYS always always make it as easy as possible to find your sources even if you think you're done using them. Use bookmarks and folders in your browser or download and drop them somewhere contained on your desktop as soon as you find them. If you can afford a writing software like Scrivner, those can be used to organize your schoolwork too. Different software have different advantages and disadvantages, but some of these programs even let you highlight and write on pdfs now.

It's always better to fuck up your format than it is to not cite something. If you end up in a time crunch and aren't able to make your citations perfect, STILL DO THEM. An academic review board that's checking for plagiarism is going to regard an attempt to cite with incorrect formatting a lot more kindly than no attempt at all.

in re plagiarism and citation and people not knowing how to do it

in the capstone class of my MASTER's degree, I had to do a group paper with fellow students who had all done 6+ years of collegiate study to get there

we shared drafts of our portions and they had no citations and i was like???? and they were like "it's a draft i'll put the citations in at the end" and i was like ???????

because by the time you're done writing the thing you're not going to remember what you got where and whether you synthesized information together! this is how "i thought i thought of it" plagiarism cases occur!!!!

anyway i told them at the bare minimum any time they referenced a numerical figure they needed to cite it, and since it was a paper on accounting fraud that mostly worked out. but i could tell they were citing stuff simply because i'd told them to cite where numbers came from, because they didn't bother to cite some non-numerical things that definitely needed it.

anyway this is why when you have classes that have multiple assignments for a paper to teach you how to write it, annotated bibliography comes before drafting. because you're supposed to have your sources and know what's in them when you start writing.

to current college students: PLEASE put the citations in as you're writing not as you're editing. i know it seems like a pita especially if you don't know the formatting well, but that's what tools like Purdue Owl are for. Tell it what citation format you're supposed to use, what kind of source you have, fill in the fields and it will format the citation for you.

[baphometsss]

I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keeping giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man doesn't not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.6

this is kinda silly and cheesy but i just wanted to get this thought out

Summary: Y/N meets Padfoot

Today was decidedly awful.

You had the worst day at work. You were on your feet all day. your boss was in a terrible mood, yelling at both you and Lily and threatened to fire Mary towards the end of the day. You knocked a shelf over, spilling loads of products in the back. And to top it all off, it was pouring rain.

You had gotten off earlier than you’d expected, the one good thing about today. You opened the door to the house and entered, kicking off your shoes and taking off your soaked coat. You needed something to warm you up and help you relax finally. You thought about making some soup or maybe asking Remus to make you a cup of tea.

That’s when you saw the dog.

A large black, scruffy dog lying asleep on your couch. You gasped and rushed over and sat next to it, instantly petting it. “Hello! What are you doing here?” you said in a high pitched cutesy voice. “Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?”

You looked for a collar and a name tag, but there was none. Who’s dog is this?

“Hey boys?” you called out. There was no response meaning that they had likely stepped out for a bit. You wondered where this dog had come from. Did the boys get one without telling you? Did the dog wander in itself? You’d ask them when they returned home but for now, you decided to just look after the dog.

The dog was now awake and tail wagging as you continued to pet it. The dog was very cute and you could be convinced to keep it if the boys wanted it. The dog looked at you intrigued, but hesitant. You understood, you were a new person, it was a new dog, you two didn’t know each other. But you loved dogs, and petting it was just so irresistible. 

“Hi baby. You wanna watch something with me until the boys get home? We can just sit here and cuddle on the couch,” you said in the same voice. The dog tilted its head at you, but its tail was wagging like crazy. You turned on a show you know the other boys hated, intending on catching up on it while they were out, but you could have sworn you heard the dog huff. 

You sat back and the dog took it upon itself to crawl halfway in your lap. You smiled and pet it. It was incredibly warm so you weren’t complaining. Its fur was soft, silky. You enjoyed the little cuddle buddy. 

You laid there for a little while enjoying the company, until you heard the door open and two voices usher in. James and Remus with grocery bags in hand. You turned in your seat to beam at them.

“Hey love! You’re home early.” James smiled back at you.

You skipped the hellos and went straight to questions. “Who’s dog is this? Is it ours? It's so sweet!” James looked puzzled but Remus’s face blanched.

The two boys saw the dog in question’s head peak over the top of the couch and they instantly shared an exasperated look. 

James chuckled nervously. “Uh-that’s-uh, Sirius-”

“Sirius knows the person the dog… belongs to.” Remus interrupted.

You laughed and teased, “Sirius knows people other than you two?” You continued petting the dog, kissing its snout repeatedly. “Do you know its name?” 

Remus began the same time as James. “No-”

“Padfoot.”

“Padfoot?” you repeated. “What a silly name for a silly little puppy.” you said in the voice. The dog licked your cheek as you giggled. 

Remus looked mortified and Jamed slapped a hand over his mouth.

“What?” you asked. “You two don’t like dogs or something?”

Remus shook his head and muttered “That’s definitely not it…”

You ignored the other two and continued loving on Padfoot. Such a pretty dog. 

“Where is Sirius by the way? I haven't seen him.” You asked the boys. You didn’t think Remus’s face could lose any more color, you were wrong. 

“U-uh I’m not sure. James?” Remus turned to James for help.

“I think he is… working on his bike.” James answered for Remus.

“Oh I see,” you said, still confused as to why they were acting so skittish. “Are you two going to make dinner tonight?” They nodded and you smiled, relieved you could relax for the rest of the night, possibly with your new furry companion. You stood from the couch and made your way over to the stairway. “Ok, well I need to change. Wanna come with me boy?” you asked the dog.

It jumped from the couch and headed straight for the stairs, like it knew where it was going. 

James coughed, “Maybe Padfoot should stay down here.”

The dog turned and again, huffed, almost human-like. 

“Oh, it’s ok! He can come to my room, I don’t have a problem watching over him.” you explained. 

“But-” James started before you could turn and head upstairs. “But what if the owner comes to get him?”

“James, I’ll be upstairs for like 5 minutes tops.” you laughed.

Padfoot raced up the steps before either boy could protest again, and you turned to follow him up. You reached your room and Padfoot had already made himself cozy on your bed. You kissed the top of his head when walking by, opening your dresser to pull out a sleep shirt and some shorts. You began to unbutton your pants, but a pounding on your door halted your actions. “Um, come in?” you called out. You were still dressed so you didn’t think anything of it.

James burst through the door. “Uh, Padfoot's owner is here,” he said quickly.  Damn what a coincidence. 

“Aww,” you frowned, looking at the dog. You walked over and planted one more kiss right between his eyes. “I hope to see you soon, good boy.” 

The dog stood and stretched, then hopped down from your bed, giving James what seemed to be a dirty look as he left. James following, closing your door to let you finally change. They were being weird. Maybe they just didn’t want you to get too attached to it and be sad when it left. 

You change into your comfy clothes, and head back downstairs. You heard hushed arguing as you stepped into the kitchen. The boys, all three now in attendance, looked at you and halted their conversation. “Dog gone?” you asked, slightly dejected. Sirius smirked but it was James who answered.

“Yeah, sorry.” he said, and did look a little sorry.

“It's ok,” you said sadly but decided to let it go. “What are you making Remmy?”

The rest of the night was pretty normal, typical. You ate with the boys and then went to the living room to watch something together. You enjoyed the time with them, talking and laughing like usual, but the night became the early hours of the morning and you decided to head up to bed. Bidding the boys goodnight, you made your way up to your room and got in bed, falling asleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Just down the hall, in Remus’s room, the boys gathered. 

“Ok before you two start,” Sirius said in an amused tone “I was asleep on the couch when she walked in, I didn’t have time to change.”

“We’ve talked about this before, you can’t be Padfoot around here, not until she knows.” James lectured.

“Yes, but when is that going to be?” Sirius asked the two, who didn’t have an answer. They had many conversations about the whole magic problem. How they couldn’t change into their animal forms in front of her, they couldn’t do magic in front of her, they couldn’t be around her during the full moons (which they usually snuck out through Sirius’s window and into the woods behind the house.)

Sirius knew that it was a… serious… matter, but at least one thing went his way. 

Laying on Remus’s chest, curled up into his side, James on the other, Sirius laughed quietly, “She kissed me.”

Remus chuckled too, leaving his recklessness be for tonight. “You were a dog.” He pointed out.

“Still kissed me” Sirius said, still smiling. He smiled until he fell asleep with that thought.

Taglist 💌 : @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar  @champomiel

[ofpd]

1st century roman siege of jerusalem dashboard simulator

🐮 barkamtza

why does this shit always happen to me

#oh my goddd the ONE time it seems like people actually wanna hang out with me. #turns out they meant to invite kamtza instead #everyone hates me and i was SO fucking nice i offered to pay for the party #god i'm so pathetic. kms kms kms #they're gonna pay for this i swear #delete later

0 notes

📜 zekharya-ben-avkolas

Ok so obv it's not ok to sacrifice a blemished calf but the blemish is just on the eyelid? So maybe it's ok? But also and i don't want people to start going around thinking that it's ok to sacrifice blemished animals. But the thing is that if i don't bar Kamtza will tell the Romans we insulted them and that will be bad probably. And like no one likes bar Kamtza anyway will people really miss him..... but ugh neither of these seem like good things to do i don't feel like it's my place to make a decision about this :/

32 notes

🏛 vespasian reblogged

🏺neronero

off to war wish me luck! 🇲🇪🏹

🏺neronero

nvm guys. ✡️✡️

🏛 vespasian

my turn lol

53 notes

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport reblogged

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport

Hey everyone! These are difficult times, and some friends and I have put together some mutual aid resources for our community to have access to wheat, barley, wine, salt, oil, and wood! More info below the cut. Take care of yourselves! 🫶

Read more

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport

fuck

7,235 notes

⚔️ biryonei-yerushalayim

anonymous asked:

Hey, I'm trying to ask this in good faith, and I hope you can take it that way. how can you possibly defend burning our grain stores. I understand that you want to radicalize more people but you're taking things too far. Jerusalem's blood is on your hands.

anon, what you need to understand is that the blame for the carnage in jerusalem lies primarily in the hands of the roman invaders and secondarily in the hands of the rabbis for refusing to resist. would you have told the hashmonaim not to resist their oppressors by any means necessary? just because this is getting inconvenient for you doesn't mean we shouldn't be doing it. it's frankly offensive that you'd imply that we, the defenders of jerusalem, should incur any blame for her current state.

#biryonim.answer #grain storage discourse

231 notes

🛡 goel-yisrael

did anyone else see the "zealot blocklist" going around lmaooo

#how do these liberals expect anyone to take them seriously #do they not have anything better to do.

7 notes

📚 stammaim reblogged

stopbeingpoor-deactivated3830102

ughh why is my servant so incompetent! i deserve the best flour why doesn't he get it...

stopbeingpoor

ykw i'll go get some myself. i'm desperate at this point i gotta do something

stopbeingpoor

EWWWW update: i stepped in something NASTY. this is why i don't fucking go out oh my god im gonna die

stopbeingpoor

gonna throw my gold & silver away for the good of the peasants or whatever it's not like it's any use to me when im literally dying -_-

📚 stammaim

lmao look at this it's exactly what yehezkel was talking about! ur gold won't save you!

#yehezkel #marta b. baitos

162 notes

🕎 yalla-hapoel

🌿 amicus-iudaeorum asked:

Hey, love your posts! They're very informative about the Jewish perspective on this war. I'm just wondering whether you condemn the actions of the zealots? I don't really feel comfortable following someone who supports that.

are you fr.

#if youre seriously concerned about this idt this is the blog for you i fear

28 notes

🛡 goel-yisrael reblogged

📖 ben-zakkai

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ lol

🛡 goel-yisrael

? what does this mean

🗡 abbasikkara

dw about it bestie

🛡 goel-yisrael

ok 💗 yay 💗

6 notes

👩🏽‍🌾 discoursedumpblog

I've compiled a list of some of the most rabid zealots on this website. Remember, don't engage, just block and move on.

Read more

152 notes

🏛 vespasian reblogged

🏛 vespasian

some jew got an audience with me & called me king (im literally not lol thats so disrespectful to the actual king + if i was king then he shouldve met w me much earlier??), i think i should kill him

🏛 vespasian

AND my shoe is being so annoying. horrible day 👎

📖 ben-zakkai

omg just came across this old post

🏛 vespasian

OMG sorry i don't mean it anymore 🙏

14 notes

🫒 a-simple-yid

yirmiyahu tzadak...

#not to pretentiously quote tanakh but literally like. #hashiveinu hashem eilekha venashuva hadeish yameinu kekedem.

3 notes

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 9

hey cuties, this chapter is actually so angsty I might die i love when you guys comment so pls keep it up and let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list !! i fricking love u guys !!

previous chapters

Before they left

Ellie was out with Leo, one of Jackson’s newer patrolmen—a quiet, steady-eyed guy with a calm that felt almost unnatural in a place like this. He’d proven himself useful enough: sharp aim, sure step.

It was her first real patrol without Joel’s shadow looming behind her, his watchful eye dissecting every sound, every flicker in the underbrush, ready to jump in if her instincts wavered. Joel had been more than hesitant to let her go, but Ellie knew how to work around his protectiveness, and he’d eventually relented, grumbling something about her proving she could handle herself.

The route they’d been given was standard—a western perimeter sweep, a routine check of gates, watchposts, and gaps in the fence line. Nothing more than a glance at empty fields, trees swaying in the distance, and the ghostly echoes of rustling animals.

But the clouds loomed low and dark, heavy as lead against the wide sky, threatening rain or worse. The cold bit into her bones, crisp enough to sting, and her breath lingered in clouds of mist before vanishing into the chill.

Leo walked a few steps ahead, his eyes sweeping the treeline with the cool efficiency of someone who didn’t mind the silence. Ellie glanced sideways at him, watching his shoulders rise and fall in a calm rhythm as if the place itself couldn’t touch him.

They’d just decided to turn back, the patrol as uneventful as they’d hoped, when Leo stopped dead in his tracks. Ellie followed his gaze and spotted it, too—a faint plume of smoke curling up behind a ridge in the distance, thin and gray against the dark sky. One look passed between them, and they both knew what it meant: someone was out there, just close enough to Jackson to make them uneasy.

Ellie’s heart hammered against her ribs, and suddenly, Joel’s voice rang through her mind, steady as his hand on her shoulder during a training session. “Never assume it’s friendly. People only hide for two reasons—fear or intent. And neither’s safe.”

She could almost hear him, his tone low, caution edging his words. “Look for cover first, approach quiet. Only move when you’re sure.” Her grip on her rifle tightened, knuckles whitening against the cold metal.

Leo gave her a nod, an unspoken you ready?

She drew a slow breath, reminding herself to stay calm. They moved closer, footsteps careful, every sound amplified in the stillness. All of Joel’s hard-learned lessons came flooding back as they advanced: stay low, eyes sharp, don’t let them see you before you see them.

Quietly, they moved toward the smoke, weapons drawn, each step calculated as they closed in on the campsite. Then they saw them—a small group of raiders, rough-looking men in mismatched gear, their rifles propped against logs, packs scattered around like they planned on staying awhile. The men hadn’t spotted Ellie and Leo yet, so they crept closer, taking cover behind a rocky outcrop, hearts pounding, breaths held.

But then, maybe it was just instinct—one of the raiders glanced up, his hand flying to his weapon. In an instant, chaos erupted. Gunfire shattered the quiet, loud and brutal in the cold air. Ellie’s heart thundered, adrenaline coursing through her as she ducked and returned fire.

One by one, the raiders went down, their shouts fading until only the hush of the forest remained, heavy and grim. The last raider, staggering back with blood staining his side, fell against a wall, his eyes wide, desperate.

Leo stepped forward, his weapon raised, ready to end it, but Ellie held up a hand, halting him. She had questions, a nagging instinct clawing at her gut, and something in the raider’s gaze—defiance mixed with fear—made her pause.

“Who are you?” Ellie’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady, her words edged with a threat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The raider sneered, blood staining his teeth, but his eyes held a glint, something wild and defiant. “We’re here for the girl,” he spat, his voice rasping with a strange, almost triumphant malice. “The cure.”

Ellie felt a chill flood her veins, as if the air had turned to ice.

Her grip on her gun tightened, fingers tense on the trigger as she stared at him.

The cure.

The words twisted in her mind, turning her thoughts into a chaotic storm. “What… what did you say?” she whispered, the strength in her voice slipping as the weight of his words sank in, a cold, sick feeling clawing at her stomach.

Her mind raced, questions hammering at her. Were they ordinary raiders? Fireflies? Or some new group who’d managed to pick up on her past, on the secret Joel had tried so hard to bury? And if they knew… how had they tracked her here, to Jackson, where she was supposed to be safe?

The raider’s smirk only deepened, his face pale but his eyes dark with some twisted satisfaction. “We know all about her,” he rasped, each word a knife. His gaze fixed on her, sharp and unyielding, like he could see right through her.

"You can kill me," the raider coughed, blood trickling down his chin, yet his eyes gleamed with a cruel satisfaction. "But more will come. And when we do… we’re gonna get her."

Ellie’s pulse thundered in her ears, each beat amplifying the sick, hollow dread spreading through her. His words slithered into her mind, each one striking with cold, ruthless certainty.

Someone knew. Someone out there knew what she was.

The one thing she’d worked so hard to bury, to escape, to live beyond—the secret Joel had kept at any cost—was slipping from her grip, no matter how tightly she’d held on. She’d come to Jackson to be just Ellie, to walk through the world as more than a body bound to a cure she’d never asked to carry. But now, in one brutal moment, that hope felt like dust, falling through her fingers.

Leo, sensing the shift in her demeanor and the tension etched across her face, stepped forward. He didn’t hesitate—a single, precise shot rang out, and the raider slumped against the ground, lifeless. Yet his words lingered, like a dark shadow cast over the silent campsite, a threat that felt too real to ignore.

Leo turned to her, brow furrowed in confusion, his voice low but edged with concern. “What the fuck was he talking about?”

Ellie forced herself to breathe, to steady the churning in her gut. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She met his gaze, holding it just long enough to seem certain, though the lie felt heavy on her tongue.

By the time she returned to Jackson, her face was drained of color. She didn’t say a word to Leo, only gave him a faint nod when he suggested reporting the encounter, and then she disappeared.

The moment she crossed the threshold into her house, she was already packing, her hands working in a blur, stuffing her few belongings into a bag with a mechanical urgency that left no room for second thoughts. She knew what Joel would say, knew he’d tell her the only thing they could do now was run, to disappear before anyone came looking.

As the hours slipped into night, the town settled into a quiet stillness, but Ellie was already outside, her breath curling in the cold air, her feet carrying her through Jackson’s empty streets as if pulled by some unseen force. She stopped at your door and knocked, each second stretching painfully until it finally opened. Joel stood there, his face etched with worry, his eyes bloodshot, but even before she could say a word, he took one look at her and knew something was wrong.

It was settled—they were leaving. The quiet agreement hung heavy between them, each of them knowing there was no turning back.

She watched as Joel turned, his gaze drifting to the staircase, lingering just a moment too long. Ellie couldn’t look at him, the weight of his sacrifice pressing against the raw guilt twisting inside her.

•••

A year had passed.

They traveled endlessly, never lingering too long in one place, drifting through desolate towns and hollowed-out shelters, each as empty as the last. Days blurred together, a relentless stretch of gray skies and quiet roads, of survival routines that left no room for anything but vigilance. They moved like ghosts through a world that had forgotten them, Ellie and Joel—two souls bound by an unspoken promise and a need to stay ahead of whoever might be searching.

But no matter how far they went, no matter the miles they put between themselves and Jackson, Joel’s mind was always somewhere else.

It was always with you.

Every morning when Joel woke, there was a brief, blissful moment—a fragile sliver of peace between dream and reality—where he could almost convince himself he was back with you. In those hazy seconds, his mind softened, his body at ease, and he felt the warmth of your bed, the quiet hum of dawn filtering through the curtains, his head nestled at the base of your neck, his arm wrapped around you like a promise he could hold onto.

He’d breathe in, and for that stolen instant, he’d catch the faintest trace of lavender. That scent lingered in his memory like a dream that refused to fade, one he clung to as he drifted between worlds. Lavender, soft and warm, always grounding him, always pulling him into the shape of you, filling every unspoken part of him with something he dared not name. He could feel you, the curve of your shoulder under his hand, the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the delicate intimacy that felt like home, a rare quiet he hadn’t even realized he could crave.

But then he’d open his eyes, and the cold reality of wherever they were would settle over him like a weight he’d never shake. The warmth, the closeness, the gentle pull of something almost real—it all slipped away, replaced by the hard ground, the empty air, the relentless ache that gnawed at him day after day.

Day and night, you lingered in his mind—a steady, silent ache, a presence that filled the hollow spaces inside him, ones he hadn’t even realized existed until you’d come along. Each day he wondered, turning it over and over in his mind, if things might have been different. If he hadn’t been so guarded, if he hadn’t kept you at arm’s length, would you have known how he truly felt? Would it have changed anything?

He imagined a thousand different versions of how he could’ve told you, how he could’ve let down those walls, let you see the side of him he’d buried under years of loss and regret. But in every version, he hesitated, haunted by the weight of everything he’d already lost, afraid to let himself believe in something good. And now, with you gone, he was filled with regret, a reminder of everything he hadn’t said, every moment he’d let slip through his fingers.

As they walked, he found himself wondering what you might be doing in Jackson, if you still waited by the window or traced the outline of the mountains with your eyes, hoping for some glimpse of him. And he wondered, in the deepest, most selfish parts of himself, if you missed him in the way that gnawed at him every hour, every mile. If you ached for him with the same relentless pull that made each morning harder, each night colder.

But then there was the worry that gnawed at the edges of his mind, the fear he kept buried deep but couldn’t quite silence. He’d never spoken the words, never dared cross the fragile line that had formed between you—a line made of glances that lingered too long, of touches that held meaning but never promises, of feelings he kept locked tight behind his ribs, too afraid to give them a name.

Yet he was selfish, and the thought of you with another man, of someone else in your bed, sharing that quiet warmth, feeling your touch—it was enough to turn his stomach, to make his mouth go dry with a bitterness he couldn’t swallow. He pictured it sometimes, in the dark hours of the night when he couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling, imagined some stranger’s hand on your shoulder, some other voice filling the silence he used to share with you.

He had no right to it, and he knew it, but it didn’t stop the ache, didn’t stop that cold, jealous twist that reminded him just how much he wanted you.

So he carried you with him, in every step, every breath, every heartbeat. You were woven into him, a memory that pulsed through his veins like a wound that refused to heal. He could feel you in the quiet moments when he let his guard down, in the spaces between one thought and the next, a whisper of what he’d left behind but could never fully abandon. It was a burden and a balm, a constant ache that kept him grounded and made each mile that much harder to bear.

And in the quiet, secret places of his heart, he let himself believe that maybe, someday, he’d find his way back to you. Just for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself that hope, that maybe after all the miles and all the weight he’d carried, he’d see you again. That he’d find his way back, and you’d still be there, waiting for him, just as he’d been waiting for you in his own, silent way all along.

•••

One year.

A whole year had passed since Joel and Ellie had vanished from your life. You’d marked the date on your calendar, a small, barely visible reminder—a private, somber anniversary that only you observed. The seasons had cycled relentlessly in their quiet march, warmth giving way to the chill of winter, spring bursting with life, and now autumn, painting the world in hues of burnished orange and fading gold. Each season had carried with it a different ache, a shifting loneliness that settled in like an old companion.

Now, as you watched the leaves fall, scattered and swirling in the crisp air, you felt the bittersweet ache of time moving forward without them. There was something unshakably hollow in the thought that the world could keep turning while Joel and Ellie remained nothing more than memories tucked away in your mind. You’d find yourself pausing on quiet evenings, thinking you’d catch a glimpse of Joel’s familiar figure down the road or hear Ellie’s laughter echoing from somewhere beyond the trees, only for the moment to pass.

In the midst of all this change, you and Caleb had slowly, almost unwittingly, drifted into each other’s lives. It started after that vulnerable night with Maria, when, over cups of tea and whispered confidences, she’d urged you to let yourself find happiness, to stop waiting on shadows of the past.

Soon after, you found yourself leaning into the steady comfort Caleb offered. There was an undeniable ease in his presence—a warmth that settled around you without demands or complications. Caleb’s laughter was open, a soft assurance that made you feel safe, grounded. He had a way of bringing lightness to the quietest moments, an ability to turn the mundane into something unexpectedly joyful. He filled spaces in your life that had felt empty for too long, his steady presence easing the ache you’d carried alone.

He treated you with a gentle kindness, never pressing, never prying, just being there in a way that was soothing and, somehow, exactly what you’d needed. His steady hand on your shoulder, the unspoken reassurance in his gaze—it all felt like a balm against the ache you’d carried since Joel and Ellie’s departure.

Caleb didn’t ask questions about your past, didn’t demand pieces of yourself you weren’t ready to give, but with every passing day, his presence filled parts of the void Joel had left behind, like warm light spilling into a room you’d thought would always remain shadowed.

Your first kiss had been awkward in the sweetest way—two people stumbling, laughing against each other’s mouths, teeth clashing before you pulled back, cheeks flushed, unable to hide your laughter. It was light and easy, no grand declarations or heavy promises, just a moment shared, a warmth that didn’t need to be anything more than what it was. And as the weeks passed, it became obvious to everyone in Jackson, to every friend who exchanged knowing glances, that Caleb was smitten, his eyes following you with a warmth that softened even the hardest of stares.

So, you let him.

You let him in, bit by bit, finding comfort in his steady affection, in the way he made you laugh without trying, in the simple joy he brought into your life. And though a part of you still held on to memories of what you’d lost, the way Caleb looked at you made it easier to feel present, to let yourself be loved, to lean into a kindness that, for now, was enough.

But, it had been a year, and still, you cursed yourself for the way Joel lingered in your mind, haunting the quietest parts of your day. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t slip into your thoughts daily, an uninvited presence that crept in as you drifted off to sleep, or while you were brushing down the horses in the stables, even as you stood under the hot spray of the shower, eyes closed, heart heavy. His memory was like a thread woven into the fabric of your life, one you couldn’t pull free no matter how much time passed.

You tried not to think about what a year could mean, how the world beyond Jackson had a way of swallowing people whole, never to return. Instead, you forced yourself to imagine him somewhere out there—alive, even if he was distant, existing in a place you couldn’t reach. You pictured him like a shadow moving across empty roads, his gaze sharp, his stance steady, a survivor who wouldn’t let anything bring him down. It was easier to hold onto that, to let yourself believe he was still walking through this world, even if it was a world without you.

And sometimes, despite all your efforts to bury it, you couldn’t help but think of how well Joel had known you. One day Caleb brought home tulips, bright and cheerful in their own way, yet somehow missing the mark. You smiled and thanked him, grateful for the thought, but in the quiet of your mind, you couldn’t ignore the tug of memory. It was roses that had always stirred something deeper within you, and Joel had known that. You’d managed to piece it together over time, a quiet revelation that settled into your bones with bittersweet clarity.

It had been him who left that bouquet in your house when your leg was injured. You’d mentioned how you’d have to thank Tommy and Maria for the gesture, assuming the flowers had come from them, oblivious to the truth. Joel had just shrugged, feigning indifference, a quiet smirk playing at his mouth as he mumbled some dismissive response, never letting on that it was his silent confession, his way of saying the things he couldn’t put into words.

Those roses had been more than a gesture—they were a message wrapped in velvet petals, a whisper of all that had gone unspoken between you. And though you tried to focus on the present, on Caleb’s tulips and his warmth and his laughter, you couldn’t help but feel that those roses, left in the quiet space of your home, had planted themselves in your heart. A love that had never been spoken aloud yet lingered in every memory, every thought you forced yourself to tuck away.

Roses—his unspoken promise, his way of telling you he saw you, of saying all the things that a man like Joel couldn’t put into words.

•••

It was another evening spent around Tommy and Maria’s table, the familiar warmth and chatter weaving through the room like an old, comforting song. Laughter mingled with the clinking of plates, stories flowing easily as everyone settled into the simple joy of being together, of holding onto the small things that made life feel whole. The baby slept soundly in the next room, a soft, steady reminder of life’s resilience, of how beauty and heartbreak could coexist in the same breath.

But as the night wore on, your eyes drifted, almost unwillingly, to the empty seat at your side, the one that had remained untouched for so long. You could almost see him there, a shadow in the space beside you, a ghost haunting every dinner. In your mind, he was sitting right there, his familiar silhouette leaning back, arms crossed, quietly listening, his face softened just slightly in that rare way it only ever did when he felt at ease. You could picture him stealing a glance your way, the warmth in his gaze flickering just briefly before he looked down, his hand reaching out to adjust his glass.

As the evening unfolded, you couldn’t help but notice Caleb—quieter than usual, a strange tension in his posture, his leg shaking beneath the table in a steady, anxious rhythm. His gaze flickered over to you now and then, his eyes carrying something unreadable, something heavy. And when the meal was finally done, he rose abruptly, the scrape of wood against the floor slicing through the laughter and easy conversation like a sudden, cold draft.

Maria paused, tilting her head in concern. “Can I get you something Caleb?” she asked gently, her voice soft but curious, but he shook his head.

You looked up, confusion mingling with a growing unease as you caught the glint of something intense in his eyes. “Caleb?” you murmured, searching his face, trying to understand what he was about to say.

He took a shaky breath, his gaze softening as he spoke your name, and for a moment, it felt as if everything else faded into the background, the room narrowing until it was just the two of you. “I… I’ve thought a lot about us,” he began, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of nerves.

“When I came to Jackson, and I saw you for the first time… I knew I wanted you in my life. I know it sounds cheesy, but I never thought I’d find love again—not after the world fell apart.” He swallowed, his fingers fidgeting as he spoke, his words raw and unguarded. “Then I found you. And I can’t picture my life without you.”

Your heart stilled as his hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, worn tin. He opened it carefully, and inside, nestled in a bit of cloth, was a ring, the metal shaped into a delicate band, with a small, carefully polished piece of amber set in the center. It glowed warm and honeyed in the candlelight, a humble but beautiful thing.

He held it out to you, his hand trembling slightly. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, thick with hope and a quiet, desperate longing.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the warmth of the room, the low murmur of voices drifting in the background—all of it faded as the weight of Caleb's words settled over you. A whirlwind of emotions stirred inside you, a rush of unexpected joy tangled up with the familiar ache you’d tried so hard to bury, the one that had never truly left.

“Caleb, I—” you began, your voice faltering, but he held your gaze, his eyes bright, unwavering, filled with a quiet, earnest hope. He was waiting, trusting, laying his heart bare before you. You forced yourself not to think too much, not to let his face enter your mind—though it already had, a ghost lingering just on the edge of this moment.

But you didn’t let it take hold.

You swallowed, steadying yourself, and finally, you found your voice. “Yes,” you whispered, though your voice trembled, betraying the tumult of feeling beneath. “Yes, I will.”

Caleb’s face lit up, his relief and happiness radiating as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his fingers warm and steady against your trembling hand. You could feel the weight of it—the promise, the choice.

The room erupted in cheers, laughter ringing out as Tommy and Maria pulled you into warm, heartfelt hugs. Their joy filled the space, wrapping around you like a blanket, and for a moment, you let yourself be swept up in it, feeling the weight of Caleb’s ring on your finger, his grateful smile lighting up his face as he looked at you with a love so simple and genuine.

But even as you smiled, a quiet wave of guilt coiled around your heart, tugging painfully, reminding you of a truth you couldn’t ignore. Joel lingered there, tucked away in some hidden corner of yourself, an ache that had never fully healed.

And though you’d tried to close that chapter, to bury it beneath the promises you were making now, you couldn’t shake the thought that somewhere, in another life, he might have been here beside you instead.

•••

You and Maria strolled arm in arm, giggling like teenagers, caught up in the novelty of planning a wedding in a world where ceremonies were rare luxuries. With every step, you swapped whispered ideas for practical dresses, scavenged fabric, maybe even wildflowers if they could be found.

Maria’s excitement was infectious; she insisted on small touches of beauty—a bit of lace here, a hint of color there, things you hadn’t dared to dream of in years. Together, you imagined a simple gathering, something that honored love in a place so often touched by loss.

But then, as you rounded a corner, a shift in the air pulled you back to reality. Low voices sounded behind you, muted but tense, carrying a seriousness that was hard to ignore. You exchanged a glance with Maria, laughter fading as a sense of unease settled over you both.

Your heart stopped, every sound around you fading as the murmured words reached your ears. “It’s Tommy’s brother… and that girl—” The phrase lingered in the air, as if the very walls had held their breath.

A surge of disbelief flooded through you, followed by a fierce, aching hope that felt like a wound you’d thought had healed. It was a hope so intense that it was almost painful, something you’d buried deep but never truly let go.

Without even realizing it, you’d already begun pushing through the crowd, instincts driving you forward before your mind could catch up. Your pulse pounded in your ears, every nerve on edge as you moved, your eyes darting from face to face, each stranger a fleeting blur in your periphery. You were searching, each step laced with a desperation you hadn’t let yourself feel in so long.

And then, there they were.

Emerging through the gates, framed in the amber glow of the setting sun, was Joel—a figure you’d thought you might never see again, a presence so achingly familiar it felt like a punch to the chest. The world seemed to go silent, your surroundings blurring as if everything was pulling away, leaving only him standing there.

He looked older, and the sight of him—aged, worn, burdened—stirred a profound yearning within you, a visceral ache that ran so deep it stole the breath from your lungs. Every line on his face, every crease around his eyes, told a story of battles fought and sacrifices endured in brutal silence. His shoulders bore the weight of countless miles, each hardship etched into the way he held himself, his posture heavy with the ghosts he'd carried through a world you could scarcely imagine.

The year had sculpted him into someone both familiar and foreign, a man shaped by time and trials you weren't there to witness. Yet, despite the distance that life had carved between you, the pull you felt was undeniable—a magnetic longing that transcended the unspoken words and lost moments. You yearned to bridge the gap, to reach out and trace the map of his experiences etched upon his skin, to understand the depths of the sorrows and joys that had defined his journey.

The mere presence of him ignited something dormant within you, a longing that was both painful and exquisite. It was as if every unshed tear, every unspoken confession, every suppressed desire swelled up, pressing against the barriers you'd so carefully constructed. In that moment, all you wanted was to close the space between you, to let the unfulfilled promises and lingering glances find their resolution. The weight of what was left unsaid hung heavily in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too—the aching, relentless yearning that time had only intensified.

Your heart raced, a fierce, desperate rhythm that echoed through you like a thunderclap, raw and unforgiving. Every wall you’d built, every attempt you’d made to move forward, to accept his absence, came crashing down in a wave of overwhelming emotion. Anger, relief, hurt, and a longing so powerful it almost brought you to your knees—all of it rose up at once, tearing through the numbness you’d wrapped yourself in over the past year.

You wanted to run to him, to touch him, to let your fingers trace every line that time and hardship had carved into his face. You wanted to scream, to release the anger and hurt that his absence had left festering inside you. The agony of it was still fresh, wounds barely scabbed over that now bled anew, raw and relentless as every buried feeling clawed its way back to the surface. But even as you stood there, helpless, held captive by a tide of emotions you couldn’t contain, a familiar thought hit you, one that stopped you in your tracks, grounding you in a different kind of pain.

Did you even have the right?

The question echoed through you, sharp and unforgiving. Did what you and Joel shared before he left amount to anything real, anything that could survive the void he’d left in his wake? Had it been enough to claim him as yours in some silent, unspoken way? Or was it just a fragile thread spun from stolen glances, from touches that had lingered just a bit too long, from words unsaid but felt in the quiet spaces between breaths?

Beside him, Ellie moved with that fierce, unbreakable spirit that had always burned so brightly in her—a spark that even time and distance couldn’t diminish. Her steps were sure, carrying a quiet defiance, as if she’d faced down every dark corner the world had to offer and come out stronger, sharper. She looked older, too, her once-youthful face etched with an intensity that felt both familiar and heartbreakingly new. She was no longer the girl you’d last seen but something more—a survivor who’d fought her way through shadows you couldn’t imagine.

Around you, the murmurs grew, swelling into a chorus of shock and amazement, voices rising and falling like a tidal wave as people turned, faces lighting up with a mix of disbelief and awe. The name "Joel" rippled through the crowd, a whispered current that surged closer with each moment, brushing against your ears, making it all feel even more real and yet somehow impossible.

You saw him glance across the sea of faces, his gaze moving with an intensity you hadn’t seen in so long. He searched with a quiet urgency, his eyes scanning the crowd as if he were looking for something—no, someone. The weight of his gaze, though it hadn’t landed on you yet, felt heavy, filling the air between you with a tension that made your heart pound.

Maria’s hand found your arm, her face etched with concern as she studied you. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft yet laced with worry. You wanted to answer, to reassure her, but the words caught in your throat. The world began to tilt, the sounds around you muffling as the rush of emotions—the disbelief, the hurt, the longing, all of it—swelled to a breaking point.

The vibrant colors of Jackson smeared into indistinct shapes, the cheerful sounds of the market melting into a distant, muffled hum. Everything around you seemed to tilt, slipping just out of reach as the flood of emotions—hope, shock, grief—crashed into each other, leaving you helpless against the surge. Before you could fully process it all, a wave of dizziness swept over you, an overwhelming rush of sensation that left you weightless and unanchored, as if reality itself were slipping through your fingers.

The thrill and desperate joy of seeing them faded into the background, replaced by a strange, numbing sense of disorientation that tugged you down, pulling you to the very edge of consciousness. You tried to focus, to hold onto the image of Joel standing there, of the life you’d imagined fading away, replaced by something unbearably real and raw. But the world around you grew dim, shadows pressing in from all sides, and the last thing you remembered was that one, undeniable thought echoing in the darkness

Joel was back.

•••

You stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, the sound of hushed voices reaching your ears like distant whispers. The air around you was warm, wrapping you in a cozy cocoon that felt both familiar and comforting. As your senses began to awaken, you registered the faint scent of woodsmoke mingling with something sweet—perhaps the remnants of a candle or a lingering trace of cinnamon from the kitchen.

Gradually, you opened your eyes, blinking against the soft glow of the room. It was a space you knew well, filled with the warmth of home—the walls adorned with handmade decorations, the soft rustle of fabric as a breeze slipped through a nearby window. The gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth provided a soothing backdrop, wrapping you in a sense of safety that felt almost tangible.

As your vision cleared, you became aware of a figure hovering nearby, blurred shapes gradually sharpening into a familiar face. Maria’s worried expression softened into relief the moment your eyes met hers.

You tried to speak, your voice thin and cracked, barely managing a whisper. “What… what happened?”

“Easy,” Maria soothed, her fingers tenderly brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, grounding you with a motherly gentleness. “You fainted when you saw them,” she explained, her tone soft, reassuring. “Just breathe, okay? You’re safe.”

“Where is he?” you blurted, unable to keep the desperation from spilling into your voice, every reined-in emotion surging to the surface. Relief, disbelief, bitterness—they all tangled within you, clawing their way up as panic brushed at the edges of your mind.

For so long, you had carried the weight of not knowing, the unanswered grief that lingered like an ache in your chest, the painful acceptance that he might be gone forever. And now he was here—somewhere in this town—yet it felt too fragile, like a dream that could vanish the moment you dared to reach for it.

Maria’s hand squeezed yours, her gaze steady and full of understanding. “He’s with Tommy right now,” she replied, her voice soft, gentle, as if trying to protect you from the storm that raged inside. Her words were grounding, and yet they ignited a twist of dread and longing deep in your stomach, a wave of emotions that left you feeling raw and exposed.

You weren’t sure you were ready. Facing him meant confronting everything you’d buried beneath layers of resilience and sorrow, everything you’d told yourself you had to let go of for your own sake. Joel had left without a single word, slipping away into the night as if you’d been nothing more than a passing moment. His absence had carved a hollow in you that you’d struggled to fill, a wound that had scarred over but never truly healed. And now, standing on the brink of seeing him again, you felt that scar ache with a fresh, raw pain.

Yet even with the bitterness of abandonment coiled in your heart, there was an undeniable pull—a fierce, undeniable urge to see him, to look into his eyes and find answers to the questions that had haunted you every day he’d been gone.

“Why did he leave?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it, more a plea to the silence than anything else. It was as if the past year’s worth of pain—the hollow ache of missing him, the endless stretch of days that had only deepened the wound of his absence—had coiled into those words, raw and unfiltered.

Maria’s gaze softened, her hand resting gently on your arm, steadying you as the storm of emotions churned just beneath the surface. Her expression held an empathy that felt both comforting and heartbreaking, as if she knew too well what it was to bear the weight of unspoken loss. “I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice gentle, almost apologetic. “But he’s back now, and I’m sure he’ll explain everything.”

“Baby?” You looked up, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest before reality settled in, the fragile possibility slipping through your fingers. It wasn’t Joel. Caleb stood before you, his face etched with worry, his gaze searching your expression for answers he hadn’t dared to ask yet.

A pang of guilt followed, sharp and immediate, reminding you of the unspoken longing that still tugged at your heart. It wasn’t fair to Caleb, this man who had been there, filling the hollow spaces left behind by someone who’d vanished without so much as a goodbye.

He was the one who’d stood beside you in Joel’s absence, bringing light into the dark days, a patient comfort you’d learned to lean on. And yet, the yearning for Joel, the ache you’d buried so deeply, had flared to life the instant you heard his name whispered in the crowd.

Caleb’s eyes softened, a gentle understanding there that only deepened the ache within you. He reached out, brushing his hand over yours, grounding you even as you felt yourself drifting in a sea of old memories and unresolved feelings.

“I heard you fainted. Are you okay?” Caleb’s voice was gentle, laced with a worry that made guilt tighten in your chest.

“Yeah, I just… didn’t eat breakfast,” you replied, the lie slipping out with a forced casualness that felt thin and hollow. You flashed a quick, pointed look at Maria, silently begging her to keep quiet. She met your gaze, her expression a mixture of sympathy and unspoken curiosity, questions lingering in her eyes that she respectfully held back.

You hadn’t told Caleb about Joel, hadn’t shared that part of yourself that felt both vital and broken, a chapter that still haunted the edges of every moment you’d tried to start anew. It was easier, you’d told yourself, to let that part of your life remain in shadow, a memory locked safely away. Yet, with Joel here, with him breathing the same air once again, that shadow stretched over everything, blurring the lines between what had been and what was supposed to be.

It felt irrelevant, a relic of the past that had no place in the life you were building now. Joel had left, after all, and there hadn’t been anything definitive between you—no confessions, no kisses, nothing that should linger.

But deep down, you knew it wasn’t that simple.

What you had with Joel was tangled and complex, layered with unspoken emotions that ran deeper than words or actions. It terrified you even now, the way he’d left an imprint you couldn’t erase. No matter how much you cared for Caleb, a part of you had never felt with him what you’d felt with Joel, and the guilt of that truth weighed heavy, a quiet ache you carried in silence.

“Scared the shit out of me,” Caleb joked, his voice soft but attempting to lift the heavy air that hung between you.

You managed a weak smile, grateful for the warmth he always offered so freely. “I’m okay now, I promise. You can head back to the clinic,” you said, trying to inject some lightness into your tone.

“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed, genuine concern reflecting in his eyes. That look—his love and care laid bare—made it nearly impossible to meet his gaze without feeling the familiar sting of guilt.

“Yes, I’m positive,” you insisted, a little too quickly, each word tinged with the quiet desperation to end this moment before it unraveled the fragile balance you’d built.

He studied you for a second longer, then finally relented, his lips curving into a playful grin that softened his expression. “Alright. See you tonight, my fiancée.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle squeeze into your shoulder, a touch that felt both reassuring and painfully kind, then turned to leave.

As Caleb’s footsteps faded, you pressed your hands to your face, hoping the gesture would somehow steady the turmoil raging within you. You barely registered the murmur of voices nearby, Maria’s urgent whisper as she seemed to be shooing someone away, trying to protect your fragile state. But it was all background noise, swallowed by the storm of memories and emotions battling within you.

And then, slicing through the haze like a knife, came a voice—low, rough, and achingly familiar. “Fiancée?”

Your breath caught, hands falling from your face as the weight of that single word hit you. You looked up, your heart pounding, and there he was, standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made everything else vanish.

Your throat tightened, and every carefully rehearsed word you’d prepared over the past year unraveled, slipping through your grasp. His eyes met yours, his expression a guarded storm—intense yet impossible to read. His gaze dropped to the ring on your finger, lingering there for a heartbeat, before rising back to your face, a silent question hanging between you, heavy and unspoken.

Here he was, standing before you, so close and real it left you lightheaded. His hair was longer, the hard lines carved deeper into his face, yet he was unmistakably Joel. His scent filled the room, wrapping around you and making the air feel thick and close.

Part of you wanted to run up and hug him, while another part urged you to stay rooted where you stood. You didn’t know if you should feel anger, relief, or surrender to the familiar longing that had shadowed you since the day he left. All you knew was that he was here, right in front of you, and every boundary you’d built to protect yourself shattered in an instant, leaving you exposed and uncertain.

You met his gaze, and in his eyes, you saw a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name—a silent plea, an apology, a yearning that mirrored your own. For a single, fragile second, it felt as if the world had shifted, bringing you both back to a place you’d thought was lost forever.

And yet the weight of everything unsaid lay between you, heavy and unmoving, a reminder that time, no matter how forgiving, could never erase the pain of his leaving.

“Joel…” The word barely slipped from your lips, thick with disbelief, tangled in the torrent of emotions you’d fought so hard to bury. A raw ache pulsed in your chest, a visceral longing to close the distance. Every part of you yearned to reach out, to feel his warmth again, to let your guard down just this once.

But as quickly as that longing surfaced, a fierce anger ignited, burning through the tenderness with brutal precision. He had left—walked away without a word, without a promise, leaving you to stitch yourself back together alone.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his gaze roaming over you slowly, lingering, as if he were trying to absorb every change, every detail he’d missed.

His eyes caught on the subtle things—the way your hair was now cut shorter, brushing your shoulders, framing your face in a way that seemed softer.

His gaze paused on the small scar near your temple, the faint line you’d earned after slipping on patrol one rainy night.

“Legs all healed,” he said quietly, his voice low, softened with a hint of something unspoken.

A surge of anger rose, fierce and unforgiving.

This was what he had to say? After all this time, after disappearing without a trace, without a single word to explain, to soften the blow of his absence?

Your fists clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you fought to keep your frustration contained. It was almost infuriatingly, achingly Joel: reserved, withholding, as if the simplest words could somehow disguise the gravity of everything he’d left unsaid.

“I thought you were dead.” The words tore from you, your breath hitching as the weight of your own admission hit like a fresh wound.

You wanted to lash out, to demand answers, to make him feel just an ounce of the hurt he’d left behind. But at the same time, the sight of him—alive, here—brought a treacherous swell of relief, one that you knew could shatter you just as easily.

You could feel his presence hesitate, the weight of his guilt hanging thick in the silence between you. He shifted, his voice low and tentative as he took a small, cautious step closer. “I can explain everything,” he murmured, his tone cracking just enough to reveal the vulnerability beneath. “I had to leave—Ellie—”

But his words only fueled the fire raging within you, the weight of his explanation feeling hollow after everything you’d endured in his absence. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as the anger finally boiled over, raw and unrestrained, pushing past the walls you’d tried to keep in place.

It was all just too much. You felt your breathing quicken, your chest tight as the words forced their way out. “I don’t want to talk to you, Joel,” you choked, each syllable thick, laced with a raw pain you could barely contain.

You turned away, jaw clenched, every muscle taut as you struggled to keep yourself together, to keep the emotions from spilling out too easily, too freely. You told yourself to let him explain, to give him the chance to say whatever it was he’d come here to say. But you physically couldn’t—not right now, not with the weight of all those unsaid things pressing against the walls you’d worked so hard to build.

He flinched, the weight of your words crashing into him, and for a long, agonizing moment, silence filled the space between you, thick with the unspoken pain that had festered over the months apart. Your back was to him, so you couldn’t see the turmoil in his eyes, couldn’t witness the guilt that etched deep lines into his face, the regret that clouded his expression, or the flicker of shame that he couldn’t quite hide. But you felt it—the heaviness of his unspoken apologies, the remorse that seeped into the air like a confession he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

Behind you, he took a shaky breath,a sound barely audible yet brimming with everything he didn’t know how to say. He wanted to reach out, to touch your shoulder, to bridge the gulf of silence and tell you that he understood, that he was sorry, that leaving you had been the hardest choice of his life.

He murmured your name, soft and tentative, the sound of it almost cracking under the weight of everything left unsaid. “I need you to hear me out. Please. ” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, as though this was his last chance to set things right, and he knew how fragile that chance was.

“Joel!” you snapped, turning back to face him, the force of your voice cutting through the thick silence, slicing through whatever words he might’ve tried to offer. You weren’t going to let him lead this moment, not after he’d surrendered that right the day he walked away. “You don’t get to dictate how this conversation goes,” you bit out, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. “You don’t get to come back here and act like everything’s fine, like you can just pick up and pretend nothing happened.”

Maria appeared in the doorway, her gaze flicking between you and Joel, taking in the elevated voices, the tension that thickened the air. She moved closer, a silent, steadying presence.

“Joel,” Maria said softly, her voice firm but compassionate as she placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back. “I think you should leave. Give her some space.”

Joel looked at her, the protest clear in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. His gaze lingered on you, his face etched with the kind of regret that could never undo the damage he’d done, and he nodded, stepping back. He didn’t say another word, only cast one last, longing look your way before turning, disappearing through the doorway.

As soon as he was gone, the floodgates opened. The sobs you’d been holding back broke free, and Maria wrapped her arms around you, her touch a balm against the wound Joel had torn open once again.

You let yourself collapse into her embrace, the weight of everything spilling out as you grieved for the love you’d lost and the anger that refused to let it go.

•••

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the truth from Caleb. The subtle shifts in your mood, the faraway look that would creep into your eyes at the quietest moments—he noticed. The way you’d pull back when he reached for your hand, or how your laughter came slower, more forced, like it was an effort to keep up appearances. Sometimes, he’d catch you staring off into the distance, your mind clearly somewhere else, your expression unreadable.

You didn’t mean for the walls to build up between you, but every time he leaned in for a kiss, you’d turn your head just slightly, offering a cheek instead. Or when he’d wrap his arms around you, the warmth and comfort that once came so easily now felt hollow, as if you were slipping further away even when he held you close.

Concern etched itself across his features more often now, his brow furrowing as he studied you, trying to understand the weight that seemed to press down on you—a weight you couldn’t bring yourself to explain.

The life you’d begun to build with Caleb now felt tenuous, fragile, as memories of Joel wove themselves into the fabric of your days, filling the quiet spaces with a longing you could no longer ignore.

You felt yourself pulled in two directions, torn between the safe, predictable future you were crafting with Caleb and the inescapable, stormy memories of Joel. You knew it wasn’t fair to Caleb, this man who loved you openly, steadily. Yet the truth gnawed at you relentlessly, clawing at your heart with a ferocity you couldn’t suppress.

The thought of you had been his only constant, his lifeline through a year of darkness. It was your memory that kept him moving, kept him alive, though he’d never allowed himself to hope too much. Yet even so, he’d held onto some small, foolish belief that he might return to find you there, still his, still waiting.

But that belief was shattered the moment he heard the word “fiancée.” The word lodged in his chest like broken glass, tearing through every fragile hope he’d harbored in his solitude. He’d left you—what had he expected?

That you’d wait, frozen in time, clinging to a ghost, while he wandered through the ruins of his own making? Deep down, he knew he had no right to feel this way. But no amount of rationalizing could quell the wave of longing and regret that washed over him, drowning him in sorrow he’d been too proud to admit he still felt.

In his mind, he’d pictured a different reunion. He’d imagined you opening the door, seeing him there, and in one wordless moment, all the anger and confusion would dissolve, replaced by the warmth he remembered so vividly.

He’d let himself believe that, somehow, you’d forgive him. That the last year could be wiped away like a bad dream, that he could slide back into the life he’d left, as if time had paused just for him. But now, standing in the shadows of a life you’d moved on from, he felt the weight of reality crashing over him, sharp and merciless. The thought of you pledging yourself to someone else, to a man who wasn’t him—it twisted in his gut like a blade, a slow, painful reminder of all he had lost.

He could see it too vividly: you at the altar, radiant and sure, your hand in Caleb’s as you vowed to build a future together, while he remained a ghost, lingering at the edges of a life he’d once held close. Every breath felt heavy, each step like trudging through quicksand, weighed down by what could have been, what should have been if he’d only stayed.

Now, faced with the reality of you in someone else’s arms, he saw the truth for what it was—a cruel twist of fate, a cosmic joke played at his expense, showing him just how deeply he’d betrayed his own heart.

•••

Your stomach churned as you stepped into the warm glow of the dining room, each step weighted with the knowledge that Joel and Ellie would be there. The familiar comfort of Maria and Tommy’s home, usually so cozy and inviting, felt stifling now, any sense of ease dissolving the instant your eyes fell upon them, already seated at the table. Joel’s presence struck you like a blow, a visceral ache twisting inside before you could even take a steadying breath.

Maria caught your eye, a silent apology flickering in her gaze, her face soft with sympathy. She knew—perhaps better than anyone—just how deep the turmoil ran, and that quiet understanding both soothed and sharpened the ache within you. You mustered a tight, brittle smile, hoping it would be enough to mask the vulnerability clawing at the surface, the storm of anger and longing that you couldn’t seem to keep buried.

Caleb, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening the air, greeted Joel with an easy, wide smile, reaching out his hand in a friendly gesture. “Good to finally meet you, man! Heard lots of good things from the lesser Miller,” he joked, his voice warm, light, as if this were any ordinary dinner.

But Joel didn’t mirror the warmth. His handshake was brief, his expression unreadable, a careful mask that betrayed none of the raw intensity in his eyes. His gaze lingered on Caleb, sharp and assessing, a look so intense it felt as if he were trying to unearth every layer of the man in a single glance. It was a look that could have cut through steel, and though Caleb remained blissfully oblivious, his attention already drifting back to the table, you didn’t miss the way Joel’s gaze flickered—piercing, as if marking territory only he hadn’t been there to guard.

The unspoken animosity lingered, thickening the air, a silent reminder of everything left unresolved. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, even after he’d broken the handshake, a silent, smoldering intensity that both drew and repelled you. It was a weight, an ache that you couldn’t ignore, and as the meal began, you steeled yourself, forcing a polite smile, hoping it would hold against the flood of emotions Joel had stirred just by being there.

Throughout the evening, you found yourself slipping into a quiet detachment, shielding yourself behind a protective shell as Caleb animatedly shared stories with the group. His hand rested on yours, his grip warm and reassuring, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that was supposed to comfort.

Every so often, he’d lean over to press a kiss to your temple, his easy affection filling the room with a softness you wished you could fully appreciate. But each touch felt like a reminder of something missing, a bittersweet ache for what once was—or perhaps what had never fully been.

From across the table, you felt Joel’s eyes on you, each glance he stole heavy with unspoken words, charged with a silent intensity he couldn’t quite hide. His gaze flickered to his glass, lingering just a second too long, but you caught the way his attention drifted to your hand, to the engagement ring resting on your finger.

A shadow crossed his face—a sadness, a yearning that seemed to seep into the air between you, carrying the weight of everything left unsaid. It was as though he was reaching out without words, trying to bridge a chasm he’d created.

And despite all of it - Joel looked good—better than you remembered, in a way that stirred something raw and unguarded within you, a heat only he seemed capable of igniting. The year had added a ruggedness to him, etched resilience into his already broad shoulders and forearms, the faint lines of muscle visible beneath the rolled sleeves of his well-worn shirt.

His hands, calloused and rough, rested on the table, hands that had once held you in the dead of night. Somehow, seeing them now felt as if they still did, as if the memory of his touch lingered just beneath the surface of your skin.

His hair was longer too, tousled and curling at the nape in a way that softened his ruggedness just enough to make him almost unbearably alluring. And then there were his eyes—dark, deep, brimming with that familiar, knowing intensity that you could feel across the table like a physical touch.

Each time his gaze met yours, it lingered a beat too long, his stare unfaltering, as though the room around you didn’t exist, as if every glance held an unspoken promise, a shared secret only the two of you could ever understand.

He held his glass of whiskey with a languid ease, his fingers tracing along the rim in a slow, almost teasing motion, his mouth brushing the edge with a deliberateness that felt like it was meant only for you.

Every time he took a sip, his lips—soft, pink, plump —lingered against the glass before he would flick his gaze to you, as if challenging you to look away. And when he licked them after each bite, a small, casual motion, it stirred thoughts you’d fought so hard to bury.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said there hadn’t been nights when you lay in bed, wide awake, caught in the silence, thinking of him, of the things those mouth and fingers could do to you.

You couldn’t stop stealing glances, couldn’t stop the way your eyes kept drifting back to him despite yourself, even though each look sent warmth rising to your cheeks, your pulse racing.

And he’d noticed.

The faint, knowing smirk that played on his lips told you he’d caught you watching, that he was well aware of the effect he had on you, as if he could feel the quiet tension simmering beneath the polite hum of conversation.

Embarrassed, you forced yourself to look away, clutching onto your resolve with both hands, trying to anchor yourself in the life you’d chosen, the path you’d carefully laid out.

For the rest of the evening, you avoided his gaze, eyes trained on your plate, your smile tight as you nodded and laughed at the appropriate moments, barely hearing a word that was spoken. The laughter of others became a distant hum, a background noise to the storm churning beneath your surface as you fought to keep the memories and feelings from flooding over.

You cursed yourself for letting these thoughts creep in.

You were engaged to Caleb, a man who represented everything you’d promised yourself you wanted—a life that was steady, loving, free of ghosts and the painful pull of the past. And yet, here you were, Joel’s presence tugging at you with a force that defied all logic, a gravity you couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard you tried to bury it.

Caleb’s laughter echoed through the room, pulling you from the trance Joel’s presence had cast over you. He was in the middle of an animated story, his voice bright and infectious as he spoke, his hands moving to emphasize each detail.

“And there was this one time—remember the flock of birds that came out of nowhere? She was so slow, I thought she was going to trip over her own feet!” he laughed, looking to you with a playful grin.

A laugh slipped from your lips, genuine and unexpected, the memory of that chaotic day flashing back. You shook your head, letting yourself be swept up in the moment. “I swear, I was running as fast as I could! You make it sound like I was moving in slow motion,” you protested, grinning despite yourself.

Ellie, mid-bite of mashed potatoes, grinned as she interjected, “Oh, come on, that’s not fair! She had a broken leg for a while—cut her some slack!”

Caleb’s laughter faltered, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise as he turned to you, half-amused, half-bewildered. “Wait—hold on. You had a broken leg? And I’m just hearing about this now?” His question was light, casual, but as it lingered in the air, it seemed to grow heavier, drawing a line between the life you’d led before and the one you’d built with him.

You forced a smile, shrugging with as much casualness as you could muster. “It wasn’t a big deal—just one of those things,” you said, hoping to glide over the subject, to keep it light and insignificant. But as your gaze drifted across the table, your heart sank. Joel’s expression had shifted; his posture was alert, his eyebrow lifting with that unmistakable, almost mocking look that said, I guess you haven’t told him everything.

The intensity in his gaze was nearly unbearable, piercing through the room, slicing through the thin layer of calm you’d tried to maintain. His eyes held an unspoken accusation, a reminder of the quiet, unbreakable bond that had once connected you, of the parts of yourself that you’d buried—the memories and scars that only he knew. His stare didn’t relent, as though he was silently demanding that you admit to those pieces of your past, the stories you’d kept locked away, the parts of you that still felt tethered to him.

“Yeah,” you replied, a hint of defensiveness slipping into your tone. “But that was… before we met.” You avoided everyone’s eyes, your gaze dropping to your plate as you absently nudged the carrots and peas around, focusing on the swirl of orange and green rather than the tension gathering at the table. The words felt flimsy, like a fragile barrier meant to shield a history you weren’t ready to confront, a part of yourself you’d carefully tucked away, hoping it might stay hidden.

Ellie leaned back, clearly enjoying the moment, her grin mischievous. “Oh, it was pretty bad. Joel was basically her live-in caretaker,” she teased, her tone light and playful, though an edge in her voice suggested she understood far more than she let on. “Though, honestly, it should’ve been the other way around—get it? Because he’s, like, old!” She flashed a wide grin, glancing around the table, expecting laughter to fill the air.

Instead, her words landed in a silence heavy and thick, one that turned each glance into a loaded question. Caleb’s eyes flicked to you, his brows furrowing, and you could feel the weight of his unspoken questions pressing in.

Ellie’s grin faltered as the silence stretched, her gaze flickering nervously between you and Joel. She’d sensed the shift, the subtle but unmistakable tension she’d accidentally stirred up, and the humor faded from her face.

The past was no longer a distant memory—it was here, sitting at the table with you, unspoken yet painfully present.

Caleb, blissfully unaware of the shift but clearly sensing something beneath the surface, glanced between you and Joel with an innocent curiosity.

“Oh, I didn’t know you two lived together.” His tone remained light, but confusion had crept into his gaze, searching yours as though trying to fill in a part of your story he’d never been given.

You’d never intentionally kept secrets from Caleb, but Joel wasn’t just a secret—he was an entire chapter of your life that belonged to a different world, a version of yourself that no longer felt real, even if the memories still lingered. How could you explain it to Caleb? How could you paint Joel as anything less than the force he had once been in your life?

“It was only for a bit,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone as you took a sip of your wine, hoping to brush the topic aside as a minor detail, something insignificant. But as you felt the weight of Joel’s gaze on you, the room seemed to grow warmer, a flush creeping up your cheeks that had nothing to do with the wine. You could feel the heat rising, making it hard to swallow, each sip meant to steady you only accentuating the tightness in your chest.

When had it gotten so hot in here? You fought the urge to shift in your seat, to break the tension you felt simmering beneath the polite surface of the dinner. You glanced down at your plate, hoping to regain some composure, but you knew Joel was watching, his eyes filled with that piercing intensity, refusing to let you dismiss the memories so easily.

Then suddenly, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady, his eyes catching yours with a glint that held something almost taunting, an edge that refused to be brushed aside.

“Only a bit?” he echoed, his gaze locked onto yours, holding you in place with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, making your stomach twist. “Guess you’ve forgotten all those late nights talking,” he added, each word laced with a quiet challenge, daring you to remember everything you were so desperately trying to downplay.

And he had the audacity to say it so shamelessly, all while taking a casual bite of his food, as if his words were nothing more than light conversation.

Joel wasn’t finished, though. With a slight smirk tugging at his lips, he leaned back, clearly savoring the reaction he was drawing out of you. “Hard to forget, seeing as we spent half those nights sharing that tiny bed,” he added, the words slow and deliberate, his voice low and rough around the edges. He paused, his gaze lingering on you, eyes glinting with both mischief and a darker, unmistakable heat.

Then, almost casually, he turned his attention toward Caleb, as if sharing some harmless piece of trivia. “She’s scared of the dark,” he said, his tone light, but there was an edge there, something that cut deeper than the words themselves. It was a quiet claim, an assertion that he knew parts of you no one else did.

The words hit like a slow-burn revelation, layered with implication that was impossible to ignore. Caleb’s eyebrows furrowed, a flicker of suspicion flashing across his face as he glanced between the two of you, his easy smile fading.

You felt your mouth drop open slightly, caught off guard, and heat rushed to your cheeks as you scrambled for a way to brush it off. The silence that followed was thick, the weight of Joel’s statement casting a shadow over the table, an undeniable hint of a history you could no longer deny.

You didn’t need to look around to sense the ripple of reactions that Joel’s words had set off around the table—the charged silence that had fallen, each person’s unease hanging thick in the air.

Tommy cleared his throat, his discomfort plain as he latched onto the first excuse to escape the tension. “Y’all hear the baby crying?” he mumbled, though the room was quiet. “I better go check on her.” He stood up quickly, his eyes avoiding everyone as he slipped away, relief flashing briefly across his face.

Beside him, Maria’s expression softened, her gaze filled with a mix of sympathy and caution, her lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. Her eyes flicked between you, Joel, and Caleb, clearly aware of the storm Joel’s words had stirred and how close everything was to spilling over.

Caleb, on the other hand, sat with an uncertain smile, clearly sensing that there was more beneath the surface but struggling to grasp the weight of the moment, his curiosity tempered by a discomfort he couldn’t quite hide.

Ellie, meanwhile, sat back in her chair, eyebrows raised, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She seemed both entertained and unfazed, her eyes flicking between you and Joel with a spark of curiosity, as if she were watching some long-awaited drama finally unfold. The air between all of you thickened, heavy with unsaid things, each person holding their breath in their own way.

Sensing the tension, Ellie cleared her throat, her voice taking on an exaggerated brightness as she tried to steer the conversation toward safer waters.

“So… anyone got fun plans for the winter holidays?” Her attempt at cheer cut through the thick silence, a flicker of relief on her face as if hoping it would lighten the mood.

But her words were met with silence, the weight of Joel’s remark still lingering in the air, too heavy to brush aside. You felt the heat of everyone’s gaze on you, the pressure becoming unbearable, and finally, you stood, forcing a tight smile. “Excuse me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, and slipped out of the room.

•••

Later, standing at the kitchen sink, the rhythmic flow of water provided a small reprieve, a focus to quiet the turmoil of emotions still swirling in your mind. The evening had left a lingering ache in your chest, the weight of unspoken words pressing down as you scrubbed each dish with more force than necessary.

Caleb had left with a soft kiss to your temple, his eyes catching yours in a look that conveyed a clear message—we’re going to talk about this later. His departure was marked by a conspicuous silence toward Joel, a small but unmistakable omission that hung heavy in the room long after he’d gone.

Alone now in the quiet kitchen, you let out a shaky breath, your hands scrubbing at a plate that had long since been clean. The weight of the evening settled on your shoulders, memories and unresolved feelings swirling like a storm you’d been trying to outrun. The steady trickle of water was the only sound, but even that couldn’t drown out the ache of everything left unsaid.

And then you felt it—the unmistakable, familiar weight of someone behind you, the air shifting, thickening with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. You didn’t need to turn to know it was him; the space between you filled with the quiet, electric tension that only Joel could bring.

“What do you want?” you murmured, your voice low, edged with exhaustion, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of your gaze. You kept your eyes trained on the plate in your hands, scrubbing at it with a single-minded focus that bordered on desperation, as if the act alone could somehow chip away at the tension lodged in your chest like a stone.

Behind you, you felt Joel, the silence stretching thin and taut, pulling at the edges of your already fragile resolve. And then, finally, he spoke—a single word, low and raw, “You.”

You swallowed hard, clinging to some semblance of control. “You’re drunk, Joel,” you said, trying to dismiss it, to brush off the weight of his confession as if it didn’t send your heart racing.

But the simplicity of that single word—you—struck you, piercing through every defense you’d carefully built. You gripped the plate in your hands like an anchor, as though it could steady you against the gravity of that word, of him standing so close, vulnerable in a way you’d never thought you’d see.

Before you could even truly process the shock of his admission, his voice cut through the stillness again, stronger, rougher, his words spilling out as if they’d been held back for so long it physically hurt to release them. “Don’t marry him.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and uninvited, slicing through the delicate calm you’d tried to cultivate, fracturing the fragile sense of stability you’d clung to.

This was uncharted territory—a truth that neither of you had ever dared speak aloud, not in the hidden moments you’d shared, not in the silent glances or lingering touches. To admit this, to break the unspoken pact you’d both followed so carefully, was seismic, a step into something vast and dangerous.

You turned, slowly, meeting his gaze at last, and the look in his eyes stole the breath from your lungs. His expression was laid bare, raw, the depth of longing there almost too much to bear. This wasn’t a casual confession, and the words weren’t just fleeting emotions flaring up in the heat of the moment.

No, this was something different, something he’d carried with him through every mile, every sleepless night away from Jackson. You could see it—the weight of a year’s worth of loneliness and need, the visceral realization that he needed you in a way that he could no longer deny.

“Don’t marry him,” he repeated, his voice trembling with an urgency that hit you like a wave, raw and unguarded. He took a step closer, his gaze intense, each word pressing into the space between you with an unyielding force. “I don’t want to live like this anymore—pretending like you don’t mean everything to me.”

His hand clenched at his side, as though he was fighting the urge to reach out, to close the distance and make you feel the truth of his words. “I didn’t come back to Jackson just to hide. I’m done hiding,” he murmured, the roughness in his voice betraying how much he’d held back, how deeply he’d buried it all. His eyes searched yours, as if willing you to understand the depth of what he couldn’t contain any longer.

“I need you to know…” His voice broke slightly, the weight of the words almost too much for him to bear. “I need you to know what I feel.”

His words hung between you, each one thick with conviction, and for the first time, he’d made it known—no more secrets, no more hiding behind the past or the lives you’d tried to build apart.

He was standing here, stripped bare, willing to risk it all. And as you looked into his eyes, a chasm of emotion stretched between you, one that neither of you could ignore anymore, a truth that had always existed but was finally spoken aloud.

The pain in his eyes was unguarded, his desperation palpable, and you could see it—an almost frantic pleading that softened the edges of his usual stoicism. But that rawness, that vulnerability, only made it harder to hold onto your anger. You felt the weight of his gaze pressing into you, silently asking for a forgiveness you weren’t sure you could offer, a connection you weren’t sure you could endure.

Though his words tugged at your heart, filling you with the relief you hadn’t even known you were holding your breath for, there was something else there—anger, hot and unrelenting, burning through the quiet yearning. These were the words you’d yearned to hear, yes, but they came wrapped in a pain you couldn’t ignore.

“How dare you,” you whispered, barely able to keep the tremor from your voice, the words slipping out raw and edged with fury.

His gaze flickered, his face drawn tight as he struggled to find the words. “I didn’t have a choice,” he replied, his voice rough, the weight of it hanging heavy in the air, a justification that felt as fragile as it was final.

You scoffed, the anger flaring higher, spilling over as years of unresolved feelings surged to the surface. “There’s always a choice,” you shot back, each word sharp, laced with the bitterness of wounds that had never fully healed.

“You didn’t have to leave me like that, Joel. Without a word, without even a hint that you were coming back. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

You could feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, the burn of them blurring your vision as the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. “I thought you were dead, Joel,” you whispered, barely holding back the wave of emotions crashing over you.

The grief you’d buried, the emptiness you’d carried for so long, all of it resurfaced now with a vengeance. “I had to mourn you—every day, every night, wondering if you were out there somewhere or if this world had swallowed you whole.”

He shifted, his jaw tightening, but he remained silent, his eyes filled with something dark and unreadable as he watched you, taking in every word, every tremor in your voice.

You took a shaky breath, the weight of the words settling over you, but the anger remained fierce, stoking the fire that had smoldered beneath the grief all this time. “And now, here you are, expecting me to drop everything just because you’re back, because you decided it was finally time to show up and tell me how you feel?”

Before you could pull away, his hands came up to cradle your face, fingers tracing the line of your jaw with a rough, familiar tenderness that unraveled your defenses one touch at a time. Your eyes stayed fixed on the floor, clinging to the remnants of your anger, but he tilted your chin, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was nearly unbearable—haunted, pleading, raw with a vulnerability you’d never seen before.

“I’m here now,” he whispered, his thumb skimming softly over your cheek, his touch achingly tender against the whirlwind of emotions crackling between you. “I’m here now, and I want you—no… I need you.”

His words settled over you, each syllable sinking deep, loosening the walls you’d tried so hard to build. His eyes, dark and unguarded, searched yours with a desperation you hadn’t seen before, a vulnerability that struck at your core.

He was looking for something—forgiveness, maybe, or hope, something to hold on to, some small assurance that he hadn’t lost you completely.

The air between you felt charged, alive with the ache of love and the bitterness of loss, thick with things that could never be undone. You felt yourself trembling beneath his touch, suspended in the pull between the pain he’d caused and the undeniable connection that still tethered you to him, no matter how hard you’d tried to deny it.

“Well, Joel,” you whispered, voice breaking as the flood of emotions finally surged forward, “I needed you. I needed you here.” The words slipped out, barely audible yet carrying years of hurt. “And you just… disappeared.”

He held your gaze, unflinching, his eyes steady, piercing, as though he could see through every defense you tried to keep up. “Come here, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and insistent, a quiet demand that tugged at something deep within you. Before you could protest, he pulled you in, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace, pressing your cheek to his neck where his scent, familiar and grounding, surrounded you.

The tension in your body began to dissolve, your walls crumbling under the weight of his presence, the way he held you like something precious, irreplaceable. You felt the tears slip free, wetting his shirt as he held you tighter, as if he could shield you from every ache you’d carried alone.

Slowly, he drew back, his hands coming up to cradle your face, as though he couldn’t bear to go a moment without touching you. His thumbs traced a gentle line along your cheeks while he looked at you with a softness that left you feeling utterly exposed, seen in a way no one else ever had, as though he was reaching through every barrier you’d ever put up, seeing the parts of you you’d never let anyone else find.

His thumb lingered, his touch gentle but deliberate, leaving a warmth that spread through you with each stroke. “I know you feel it too, don’t you, darlin’?” he murmured, his voice thick with longing, every word weighted by unspoken moments, things left unsaid for far too long. His gaze held yours, and in it, you saw everything he’d been holding back, a yearning that matched your own.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes. “I saw the way you were lookin’ at me tonight… at dinner.” His voice softened, dipping to a murmur as his thumb brushed your cheek again, lingering as though he didn’t want to let go. “You can’t tell me that was nothin’.”

His words struck you like a lightning bolt, raw and unfiltered, his quiet confidence cutting through every barrier you’d put up. Your stomach twisted, your pulse racing, the way he saw right through you stirring feelings you’d tried so hard to bury.

He knew how deeply you wanted him, knew that the pull between you hadn’t dimmed, and now, with every word, he was stepping over every line, breaking down every silent rule you’d tried to enforce, leaving you defenseless in the wake of his honesty.

The faint scent of whiskey lingered on his breath, blending with the warmth radiating from him, and you found yourself drowning in the details—the worn lines of his face, the way his lips parted as if waiting for you to respond, to give him any sign.

Your throat tightened, the words slipping away as you stammered, caught between his gaze and the undeniable force drawing you closer to him. “I—I…” Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel every nerve alight as his fingers brushed over your wrist, grounding and unsteadying you all at once.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a sad, almost desperate smile. “You can tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice so low it was barely more than a breath. “But I don’t think you want me to. Hell, I don’t think I even can.” He leaned in, and the air between you thickened, so charged with unspoken longing you felt like you might drown in it.

His face was close enough that you could see every line etched into his brow, the way his eyes lingered on your lips, as though he was just as close to breaking as you were. You hated yourself for it, but you leaned in too, your body betraying the logic your mind clung to.

“Joel…” His name slipped from your lips, barely audible, a breath caught between resistance and surrender. But he was already closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his gaze moving over your face like he was memorizing each detail, each curve, each fragile expression you gave away.

“Say it,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek, a touch that felt like a quiet plea. “Tell me you don’t feel it. Look me in the eye, and I’ll walk away. I’ll stop. But if you can’t…”

He held you there, suspended between anger and longing, between the scars he’d left and the undeniable pull that still held you captive. In his eyes was an offering, a choice: to close this chapter once and for all or to risk everything and let yourself open to him again.

And in that moment, as his gaze searched yours, you felt every emotion—the hurt, the love, the longing—flood back in, an unspoken answer he was waiting for, an answer that might change everything.

“Stop.” The word sliced through the air, sharp and final. Gently, but firmly, you lifted his hands from your face, breaking the contact that had felt like both salvation and torture. You took a step back, feeling the space grow between you like an unbridgeable chasm, a boundary you could no longer allow him to cross.

“I can’t, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling, betraying the weight of your resolve. “It’s too late. Just… stop. Stop with the looks, the touching, and what you said tonight about us sharing a bed—what the hell were you thinking?”

The words spilled out, raw and unfiltered, each one coated with a desperation to hold onto the life you’d fought so hard to build in his absence. You glanced up at him, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes

His gaze held steady, undeterred by your anger, his eyes intense and unflinching. “What was I thinking?” he repeated, his voice low, the words thick with an unspoken ache. “I was thinkin’ I couldn’t sit across from you any longer, pretendin’ like there’s not still somethin’ between us.” He took a step forward, reaching for you, but you pulled back, unwilling to fall under his spell again.

“Joel, you had your chance,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together as the pain in your chest deepened, sharp and unrelenting. “You don’t get to come back now and act like nothing’s changed.”

He looked down, his jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was rough, laden with regret. “I know I messed up,” he murmured, each word filled with remorse that hung heavy between you. “But I can’t stand here and pretend you don’t still mean everything to me.” His gaze lifted to meet yours, and in that moment, his eyes held a sincerity that cut through every defense you’d tried to build, making it nearly impossible to look away.

“It’s too late, Joel,” you replied, each word a painful truth you forced yourself to accept. “You made your choice. I moved on. I had to.”

He stared at you, his expression wavering between disbelief and desperation, as if the weight of your words was too much to bear, as if he hadn’t realized until this moment what his leaving had truly done to you. His lips parted as though he might say something, but the words died on his tongue, his eyes searching yours, pleading silently for some trace of forgiveness. But you held steady, your heart splintering with the resolve you’d fought to keep.

“I’m marrying Caleb,” you whispered, each word feeling like a nail sealing shut the door to everything you’d once shared. You watched as the last glimmer of hope in his eyes faded, leaving only a raw, quiet devastation that twisted something inside you, but you couldn’t falter—not now. You had to hold on to the life you’d built, to the stability you’d found, even if it meant leaving this part of you—of him—behind.

The silence that filled the space between you was deafening, weighted with memories of a love that never bloomed and never faded, with words that had never been spoken. Joel’s gaze fell, and in the set of his shoulders, the defeated slope of his posture, you could see the impact of your words settle, the shattering pain of realizing that you were no longer his to lose.

Without another word, you turned back to the sink, the steady stream of water the only sound in the room as you focused on anything but the silent ache building inside you.

Behind you, you heard Joel’s footsteps, slow and heavy, each step echoing like the sound of a door closing.

You held yourself steady, refusing to look back, even as his presence slipped away, the sound of him fading from the room like the final echoes of a memory you’d never fully let go of.

Tag List

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[munsonsmixtapes]

hii could you write a smut like this so yk the scene in stranger things where eddie’s bed was covered in unknown stains? and when he says “those stains are.. idk what those stains are”and then recap from the night before that eddie and the reader hooked up with eachother the night before tysm!!

I love this idea!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Eddie, Robin, and Nancy stare up at the mattress above them that Lucas and Max have just carried in. His cheeks turn pink as the two girls eye him suspiciously. This puts him in a predicament. He could lie, or he could tell the truth.

He's gonna lie, he thinks. He doesn't care if they don't believe him, he just absolutely cannot tell the truth. Not only would it embarrass him, but he also doesn't want to tell them about you. That's none of their business.

The mattress looks even more gross than he remembers. He meant to wash the sheets but he forgot like always. So now every knows what he's done and he's trying to play off that he doesn't know what the stains even are.

"Those stains are uh-I don't know what those stains are." He doesn't have to look at the girls to know they don't believe him. He doesn't care anyway. He just lets his mind wander to the night before.

"Look at you," he says as he spreads your legs wide. "So wet for me, hm?" He asks as your slick leaks out onto the sheets below you.

"Always wet for you," you reply and he smirks because he knows you're right. You're always wet for him and that's the way he likes it. He loves to know that he's always on your mind 24/7.

"That's right, sweetheart," he nods and lines himself up before pushing his cock inside you, pumping into you fast, hard, and deep. He's managed to fit all of myself inside you and he's getting harder as he sees the tears pricking your eyes.

"Taking me so well already. Didn't think all of it would fit, did you?" He asks as he grabs hold of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pushes even farther into you.

"Oh," you moan so loudly that Eddie's nervous that other people in the trailer park can hear you, but he decides that he doesn't care. In fact, he wants them to hear you, to know just how good he makes you feel. "Eddie," you whine, grabbing onto his shoulders as he lowers himself onto you.

Your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he winces, but clearly it doesn't bother him that much since he's continuing to pound into you, both of you exchanging moans as your hands move down to his back, scratching up and down to show him how much you're enjoying it.

And you're already coming, an orgasm rolling through you and Eddie's talking you through it as he pushes your hair away from your sweaty forehead before pressing a kiss to it.

"Look so pretty when you're coming," he says. "Wanna do it again?" And you're nodding enthusiastically as the two of you go for round two and many more after that.

"Right, of course you don't," Robin teases Eddie with a nudge and he flushes as he continues to think about his night with you and wonders how he can back to you, and fast.

[velvetvexations]

Ngl i feel like, to a certain degree, it would do everyone good to actually engage with bigoted groups (ie, radfems) and their beliefs more deeply.

I didn't spend years picking apart the fundamental beliefs and issues of radfeminism just to have to deal with people who've never looked into what it actually is tell me radfems don't hate men and masculinity and that radfeminism is actually good and normal if you cut the transphobia out (read: be transphobic in a different way)

If you (general) think the only defining factor/issue with radfeminism is the hatred of trans woman, you've got a MASSIVE lack of knowledge on it's basic fundamentals and history, and are extremely vulnerable to falling for it.

If you wanna protect yourself against a group/falling into that pipeline you need to actually know what they're about. I've seen plenty of baby radfems, who started reasonably and supportive of trans women, slide steadily towards full blown irrational terfism. It's a foot in the door thing.

Idk I'm just rambling now but i see it as a massive issue that people don't actually engage with bigots and their movements besides "Well they're bad". Why are they? How did they get here? What foundations lead to this? How do they start? If you don't ask yourself these things you'll just end up saying how you can't be a radfem because you don't hate/you are a trans women while completely uncritically parroting their rhetoric.

It's really frustrating because they have no idea what TERFs are like so they think they love cis men, and then they call me a crypto-TERF who sucks up to them in spite of the fact that any given random page on my blog has content that would give the average TERF a seizure.

Like, hey, do you think the supposed TERFs in my audience likes all those gifs I reblog of women on leashes and in cages and getting the shit kicked out of them? If you have a semblance of rational sense rattling around in your skull, the answer is obviously no, they'd be repulsed by that and a million other things about me and my political opinions, but to the TRF it all makes perfect sense because "hates trans women" is all a TERF is to them. They literally do not know what a TERF is.

[theblessedcap]

A Weekend to Remember 💕

Summary: Terry wants to give his girlfriend Siya (Sigh-ya) a peaceful weekend away at his place to help her loosen up after a rough week. 🩵

Warnings: Some smut 💋 and 420 friendly 🍃

This is my first fanfic y’all so take it easy on your girl. It’s been a while! lol. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terry POV

Friday Night 🌙

My girl Siya, who I’ve been seeing for about five months now, has been expressing her frustration with work all week. I’m not quite sure what her exact job title is but I know she works with badass kids and intense parents everyday in the school system. I’ve always admired her patience with people on a daily. I told her I do labor and engineering work for a reason cause I’d catch a case. Nonetheless, I know she needs an outlet and frankly, just a good time so she can let her hair down a bit. I can admit I’ve been slightly negligent to my lady’s feelings recently due to my own work being a shit storm with high volumes of orders and requests needing to be completed. A couple nights in a row I’ve been falling asleep on her mid conversation from pure exhaustion. I know that stings her a bit because we don’t live together and she really treasures our nightly FaceTime calls. She lives about 35 mins away from me on the other side of the county so anytime I get to see her face I try to make it last. I know she knows I still love her and I’m here for her like always but I’m the type of man to show it. Especially when I know I’ve been slacking a bit.

On the way home from work today, on a high from finally making it to Friday, I text Siya to let her know my plans.

T: Hey babe, hope your work day ended on a high note today. I want you to pack a bag to stay over my place for the weekend. I wanna show you how much I’ve missed you all week.. I’ll be there to get you around 6. I love you ❤️

S: Oooo you got plans plans huh? 😏 lol ok baby, I’ll be ready when you get here. Just let me know when you’re on the way 😘

I smile down at my phone at her response. She always finds a way to make me laugh. That’s why this weekend I want her to feel like she’s fully taken care of. My girl is the kind of woman who loves detail but loves simplicity even more. She loves good vibes and ambience.. she loves to be able to take in all the small joys around her and revel in them while spreading that same feeling to the people around her. It made me think about what I wanted to plan for us this weekend. I want to take Siya’s mind off of all her stress and worries and I have to be quick because I only have about 2 hours until I pick Siya up…

Siya POV

That text from Terry made my day. I haven’t stopped smiling since I got it just as I was about to sprint to my car after calling it a day at work. Don’t get me wrong, I love aspects of my job but the mental rigor of trying to put out fires everyday is A LOT. I was just starting to get annoyed with Terry actually, he’s been seeming a bit distant and uninterested but those thoughts faded away as soon as I read that text. If there’s one thing I know about my man its that he’s thoughtful when it counts and loves to prove it.

Getting home to my quiet condo, I drop all my stuff in my office room then head straight to my bathroom to shower off all the angst of the day. Blasting some Summer Walker and Kehlani while the hot water slowly soothes my body into relaxation. I make sure to shave and moisturize something serious not yet knowing exactly what Terry has planned. I just have a feeling it’s going to make me fall in love with him even more.

After my shower, I decided to fix something small to eat to hold me over and then pack my bag for a stay at my man’s.

*phone vibrates*

T: I’m heading to you now babygirl 🩵

S: Ok be safe ❤️ see you soon daddy 💋

I don’t know what it is but Terry still makes me giddy and nervous. I can’t stop checking my hair and light makeup in the mirror just to make sure nothing is out of place. If he knew I was taking what I looked like so serious, he would reprimand me saying you look beautiful regardless, don’t trip but hey, I’m just a girl with nerves!

Dressed in a causal three piece cozy fit, perfect for this fall weather and brisk evenings, I wait for Tory to arrive while chilling on my living room couch. Just as I start to feel a little antsy my phone vibrates again.

T: Come open your door for me beautiful

Without texting back, I hop out of my seat and speed walk to the door with a smile. I open the door to find my tall, muscular, ocean eyed teddy bear of a boyfriend dressed in a hoodie and joggers to match.

“There she is” he says before softly pulling me into his arms and lifting me into a tight hug. He smells so good..

“Hey baby, I missed you so much” I say before planting a kiss on his soft, plump lips.

“I’ve missed you too baby girl. More than you know. Come on, let me get your bag for you” He says slightly brushing past me into the living room to grab my pink duffle bag. “You ready, mama?”

Terry POV

It feels so good having Siya next to me again. It’s only been about a week and a half since I’ve last seen her in person but right now let me know that’s too long without her. Her soft, luscious, radiant skin. Her fragrance that always smells like something sweet that makes me hungry for her. Head full of curls and that amazing smile that still makes my heart skip a beat. I’m sprung, no doubt. I can’t keep my hands off her as I hit the highway heading back to my place. My free hand found its way in between the heat of her thighs and rested there for comfort as I gripped the steering wheel. Snoh Alegra playing from my truck speakers and our heads bobbing to the smooth tunes. I look over at Siya softly singing the words and I crack a smile involuntarily. Call me corny but I made a playlist just for this ride back so I knew she’d be feeling it.

“You know this is my song” She says with a playful smirk while dancing in her seat.

“Yeah I know love”

Siya went back to her karaoke as i focused on not missing a turn right up ahead of us. As soon as I made the turn off our usual route, Siya stops her concert and looks at me with curious eyes.

“Where we going?” She asks

“Just a little detour babe, don’t worry” I reassure her grabbing onto her hand to hold.

I could tell my words put her at ease. I watch her lean back in her seat to take in the beautiful sunset outside our car windows. The sky barely lit but just above the horizon it’s painted a firey bright orange with clouds leaving small traces of purple and blue. Approaching our destination, I see Siya sit up, peeking out of the windows to take in the view before us. A walking park adorned with vast land scattered with trees and a beautiful lake front that provided a perfect view to watch the remainder of the sunset. The area is empty and barely any cars drive past at this time of day. Perfect for a chill ass smoke session to get my girl right for this relaxing weekend I got planned for her.

Siya POV

Terry is always up to something I tell ya. I’ve always appreciated the effort and thought he puts into the things he does for me. No matter how little or large. Terry knows I’m a sentimental nostalgic who loves taking in sunsets and sunrises. I mean, I couldn’t even count the amount of moon photos I have in my camera roll too. He also knows I don’t take the time to enjoy these things as much as I’d like to. To just be present.. with a beautiful view.

“Let’s sit at these benches over here” Terry said taking my hand and leading me to our seats near the lake.

“This is beautiful Terry. How do you know about this place?”

“Me and a homeboy of mine use to come here and go fishing sometimes. We even came out here just to chill. Get our minds right” Terry reaches into this hoodie pocket, “So, with my beautiful lady having the hard week she did.. I figured we’d start this weekend with some reallll relaxation” he declares pulling out a thick cigar blunt with a playful, big cheesy smile.

Terry and I have smoked together before but it’s been quite a while. Shortly after we started dating we both decided to take a tolerance break and focus on work and being a bit healthier. Not to say we didn’t break our pact from time to time but it has definitely been a couple months since I faced a fat blunt.

“When did you start smoking again?” I ask genuinely curious.

“Right now. I figured since work has been kicking both of our asses, we deserve this. You deserve this,” He says lighting the blunt and passing it to me. Instantly the thick weed smoke and scent hit my nose and brought back all those fond memories of getting high and letting my worries roll off of me like water.

I take a deep breath and allow the smoke to hit my chest. I hold it for a few seconds before a deep harsh cough escapes my throat.

“Take it easy, babe” Terry said laughing while patting my back.

“Oh whatever! It’s been a while” I snap back at him out of a little embarrassment of my fragile lungs. I take another puff and force myself to keep in the smoke long enough to feel the after effects.

“You good mama?” Terry asks me as I pass him back the blunt.

“Yeah I’m good. This shit is hitting me nice..” I say leaning back into the bench, letting my body and mind unwind. I start to listen to the gentle wind of the night breezing past my ears, the lake in front of me rippling from the wind. It’s so peaceful. I feel Terry’s arm cradle my shoulders from be side, providing extra warm from the cool breeze. We continued to pass back and forth until our blunt became a roach. The lowering sun completely gone but now the fluorescent moonlight took its place. It gave us ample light reflecting from the shimmering lake. I could feel every bit of my body soften and loosen up. My head lay back to rest on Terry’s buff arm still wrapped around me. We were both pretty quiet enjoying our high and the tranquility around us. I look over to Terry to make sure he’s okay only to meet his incredible grey eyes, low and hazy from the marijuana, already locked on me.

“How you feeling?” He asks deep in tone, his gaze still stuck on me.

“Good. I feel great actually”

“Good. I’m glad to hear, babe. Come here…” Terry whispers before grabbing me around my waist and pulling me into his lap. Never taking his eyes off me. I was starting to really get lost in them. All I could picture was the last time we fucked, soaking my satin panties as I clinch my thighs on Terry’s lap. My eyes gaze down to his juicy pink lips that just seem to be calling my name. Without hesitation, i pull Terry in for a passionate kiss. Lips smacking and soft biting making us both groan into each other’s mouths. I could feel Terry’s thick bulge grow stiffer below me as he shifts my booty on his lap to help adjust himself. He let out a soft moan before placing lewd, wet kisses all over my neck.

“Terry you know that makes me weak” I moan out as he hits all my spots causing me to quiver.

Ignoring my plea, gripping onto my thighs, he continues to place warm kisses on my neck and slowly down my chest. Suddenly he stops and looks up at me. The moonlight beaming out of his now dark clouded eyes. He sits up, gently moving me off his lap and back on the bench before standing up and starting to take off his hoodie. I bite my lip watching him undress, revealing a white tee hugging his defined abs and massive arms. I quietly stare up at him from my seat, heat rising within me from anticipation, wondering what’s next to come. Also forgetting that we’re technically in public.

I’m high as shit.

“Lay back on my hoodie babygirl” Terry says softly while stretching his hoodie out on the bench space beside me. I do as he ask and lay my heated back to the wood bench to rest. Terry, now sitting by my feet and smirking down at me, slowly turns to me with his eyes still intensely on me, lifts my legs and places them firmly over his shoulders. Now I get the hint..

“Take these off” he whispers before licking his lips and pulling at my pants with authority.

I lift my lower body to assist him in slipping my pants and panties off in one quick swipe. The cool air hit my bare legs and made me clinch my legs shut.

“Open up for me, babe” Terry commands sliding his large body back on the bench and lowering his head right above my wet, aching pussy. “I got the munchies.. but all I wanna snack on is you”

With a sloppy, wet kiss to my throbbing clit, Terry began to devour my pussy like his last meal. I couldn’t help but to moan loudly as he slurps and licks me with purpose. One thick swipe of his tongue after another. As he playful darts his tongue in and out of my pussy and tenderly rubs my pulsing clit, I stare up at the stars above. Thanking God and the universe that I’ve found this man.

“Ahhhh Terry.. this feels so fucking good babyyy” I cry out reaching for the bench arm rest behind my head for leverage.

“Mmm.. you taste so damn good mama.. I could eat you all night..” he spoke with all his concentration still on my leaking pussy. Suddenly feeling two thick fingers slowly sliding into me, I arch my back out of pure ecstasy.

“Fuuuuck” I cry out letting Terry quicken his pace. Beginning to feel an amazing but unfamiliar pressure build within me.

“Pussy clenching up baby, you about to cum?”

“Oh my god… Terry!” I shout unable to explain what I was feeling. Silence falls as nothing but the sound of Terry’s fingers slipping in and out of me and his slurping and smacking fill the air. My eyes close shut and I swear even with them closed, I can still see stars. Suddenly, a loud gush erupts from my slippery center.

“God damn..” Terry groans staring at my pussy forming a puddle below him with a look of pride and accomplishment.

“Did you just make me squirt?!” I asks out of pure shock. Did I really just squirt on my boyfriend on a public bench?

“Hell yeah I did. You got me and my hoodie soaked baby girl” he says with a chuckle and a menacing smirk.

“Oh my god” I say laughing to myself, covering my face as Terry lifts me up to hold me in his arms, face to face.

“Aww none of that now. Shit, that was fucking amazing. I didn’t know you could squirt like that, mama. I find it sexy.. lets me know I’m doing all the right things.. maybe I should get you high and eat you out more often” he suggest with that enticing smile of his.

“Yeah maybe” I respond with a smile and gaining a little sense of confidence back. The sound of loud car exhaust approaching made us both grab for our clothes and get dressed. Terry wasn’t lying when he said I soaked his hoodie. Even with it being black I could tell I left the majority of it damp and knew he’d be cold in this frigid wind as we walk back to his truck.

“I’m sorry again about that Babe” I say with my arms crossed in front of me to shield my exposed skin from the breeze.

“You don’t hear me complaining do you? Stop worrying, love. So what I’m drenched? I love that shit. All that matters to me right now is that you feel good.. you gushing all on me like that just shows me you was feeling more than good though.. right baby?” He asks slowly stepping closer to me, forcing my back against the truck door, invading my space in a way that makes my knees almost buckle. Him and these goddamn eyes!!

“Oh I’m more than good..” I almost whisper looking deep into his glistening orbs, feeling like I’m under a trance.

“That’s what I like to hear. Gimme kiss..” Terry says before pulling me into him by the waist and giving me two sweet, wet kisses, “come on, beautiful. Let’s get back on the road. We still got the night ahead of us.”

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK and sorry for any typos 🙈🩷 Depending on feedback I’ll write the rest of the weekend with Tory and Siya 🥰 I have a feeling this is gonna get cute and nasty lmao appreciate y’all! -Kye ✌🏽

[bambisworlds]

mirror sex with azriel

while azriel fucks bambi in front of a mirror, she disagrees with him when he says her body is perfect. he makes sure to set her straight (431 word count, kinda short sorry babes)

*bambi is my oc, click on my pinned 'about my blog' post if you wanna learn more about her :)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, dom!azriel, mirror sex, praise, rough sex, degradation, spanking, brief face fucking, azriel doesn't play when it comes to his angel talking bad about herself, established relationship, no physical description on reader besides that she has boobs, let me know if i forgot anything x

"Look at us," Azriel says firmly but gently. Bambi lifts her head to look at the mirror at the bed's end. Her lips parted at the sight of Azriel's large body behind hers, her tits hanging heavy with hard nipples as he fucked her from behind, the mounds swaying with each thrust. His wings were flared behind him, a look of raw pleasure across his features as he roughly snapped his hips against her ass cheeks, "Look how beautiful you are when you take my cock," he pants, gripping her hips tight enough to leave bruises.

Bambi keens in response, watching the display eagerly. Her eyes scanned over Azriel's abdomen as his abs ripped with each thrust, then up to his face. His gaze was downward, watching his long cock slide in and out of her messy cunt with his mouth dropped open in unmasked bliss.

Azriel pushes roughly between Bambi's shoulder blades, "Arch your back," he demands, and Bambi complies, followed by a high-pitched moan from the new angle, "Look how incredible your ass looks," he says breathlessly, lightly slapping her ass cheek. Bambi held her head up just enough to watch as Azriel instructed, "I love this perfect fucking body," he moaned, squeezing one of her ass cheeks roughly.

"N-Nobody's perfect," she gasps out, hoping to elicit a reaction from him. 

Azriel hums in acknowledgment and halts his movements, "You always insist on saying such ignorant things…I suppose it's only fitting I fuck you stupid when you do so," he says, pulling out before slamming into her as he sets an unforgiving pace. Bambi lets out a high-pitched wail, her eyes rolling back. This is exactly how she hoped he'd react. Azriel roughly shoves her face into the mattress with his right hand, muffling her cries of ecstasy. His left palm smacks down on her ass again, producing another yelp from her, "My perfect girl, acting like an idiot," Azriel grits out, followed by another loud smack to her ass that would leave a handprint.

Bambi moans into the mattress incoherently, her body limp as she surrenders to his harsh treatment. She keens loudly as she cums, sobbing into the bed while her legs flail. Azriel doesn't relent, only stopping once her spasming has ceased around his cock. He pulls out with a grunt, quickly flipping Bambi over with a rough shove and stuffing his cock into her mouth.

"Gonna keep this mouth stuffed full until you learn to stop talking badly about my mate," he growls, thrusting in and out of her mouth as she gurgles and gags. 

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below or on my masterlist!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[hannieehaee]

hi! who in svt would be more likely to be a camboy as a side gig/job? i feel like maybe seungkwan cause we all know he feels comfortable in front of the camera and is great at knowing what the public wants, or mingyu cause he loves showing himself off🤭 i initially thought about wonwoo cause he does gaming streams but he’s wayyyy to shy i feel like he would rather keep his intimate time private.

i don’t remember if i already asked this sorry if i alr did!

18+ / mdi

content: camboy!seungkwan, smut, masturbation (m receiving), no x reader but you can assume the chatter is reader, etc.

wc: 710

a/n: i can imagine both but seungkwan's just such a natural entertainer i had to pick him hehe

masterlist

lovergirl98: take the top off baby !!!

- tip: $25

"oh? this thing? but i picked it out just for you. want it off that bad? what does everyone else think? should i take it off?", seungkwan used his index finger to tease at the strap of his tank top, lowering it a bit to expose his shoulder to the audience.

his words combined by his actions caused an immediate flurry in the chat, having it fill up with various comments parroting the original request and even throwing in more money into the fire to ensure it happened. seungkwan chuckled at the insistence, biting his lip at how easy it was to get his viewers fired up.

within seconds, the top was thrown across the room, leaving him in just his boxers as he leaned back on the headboard of his bed.

even more comments showed up, with some begging him to do the same to his boxers while others tried to convince him to play with his nipples.

both orders were promptly followed after a little more teasing from seungkwan, tsk'ing at his chat for being so needy.

"oh ... looks like there's nothing else to take off," he pouted, "what do my needy kittens want now? should i ... play with my cock? is that what you want?"

lovergirl98: wanna see u cum, pretty. gimme a show?

- tip: $50

"lovergirl ... someone's a bit desperate today, huh? this is your fifth tip today. might have to give you a private show for that," he winked before letting his hand go further south, enveloping his swollen hardness with a hiss.

he knew that such comments would get other of his viewers to follow in your path and donate more. seungkwan was already familiar with your username, and he had a lot of fun paying extra attention to your comments. he couldnt help being an appreciative man for all your support.

seungkwan continued to caress himself, starting off with a soft and slow pace and increasing as more comments popped up in encouragement for him to go harder, go faster. kwan drank it all in, using his other hand to occasionally palm at his balls or caress at his bare chest.

lovergirl98: sooo pretty. gonna make me cum with u

- tip: $20

"yeah? wish i could see, pretty," he cried out in the midst of his upcoming high.

he teased himself a few times, getting himself to his high yet stopping right before actually orgasming. meanwhile, he continued to mutter dirty words to his viewers, earning himself rewards for giving them a show of his not-so private pleasure.

"f-fuck, gonna cum. i ... shit, it's so good, fuck. wish you were here to ... to take it for me," he mewled, playing it up a bit for whichever viewer wanted to take claim of him.

and luckily enough, at least ten people donated right at that moment, all in differing amounts and all sharing similar sentiments of wanting seungkwan's spunk either in their mouths or in other parts of their body.

maybe it was a little egotistical of him, but such desperate displays of need for him were enough to finally make him finish. he could see himself in the view finder, looking at the same view his fans had of him as he squirted his cum all over his stomach.

after that, heavy breaths filled the room, occasionally interrupted by pings indicating even more donations from his subscribers.

"hmm, you were so good for me. look at the mess you made me do," he chuckled as he looked through his comments one last time, too exhausted due to the overstimulation he'd inflicted onto himself.

with that, he closed the tab, deciding to put an end to the stream before he fell in another rabbit hole of an orgasm. but even then, private messages popped up, with endless offers of a private show in exchange of heftier donations than usual.

lovergirl was there as per usual, making seungkwan chuckle at the insistence. it was endearing, he had to admit. he considered for a bit, but decided to put it in the back burner before heading over to the bathroom to wash himself up. a smile of satisfaction remained on his face in the meantime.

maybe next time.

a/n: this was different since it wasn't very member x reader but i hope u guys enjoyed anyways!

[weenie-extraordinaire]

Okay, I know reading comprehension on this website is non-existent, so I'll try to use small words in non-complex ways.

The USA was the first country in the world to recognize Israel as a State. Not a United State of America, an independent Nation State.

Do you know when Israel started receiving US financial aid? The late 1940's, after they recognized Israeli sovereignty.

Do you know when Israel started receiving US military aid? The 1960's. It started with Kennedy and the Raytheon Hawk Anti-Air missile system.

Do you know how many treaties, agreements, memorandums of understanding, and defense cooperation agreements the USA has with Israel? A lot. A hell of a lot.

What does this mean, you ask? It means that your country has got a shitload of bureaucracy tying your government to their government, and despite all the enthusiasm to blame "the Biden Administration" for providing the means to slaughter tens of thousands of Palestinians, invade Lebanon, and bomb Iran, well, Israel already had nearly 600 Foreign Military Sales authorized through the US Foreign Military Financing program(as of October 2023), with a ten year Memorandum of Understanding signed in 2019 and valid until 2028. This wasn't some snap decision from "sleepy Joe" to arm Israel; y'all have been doing so since before the towers fell, since before the Berlin wall fall, hell, since before the assassination of JFK.

Do you understand now, or do you need a bit more explanation?

I'm gonna assume you still don't understand.

Close to 60 years of inertia cannot be brought to an immediate halt by any President. There are far too many intelligence, military, economic, and diplomatic ties with Israel to just make it all just... go away. It ain't happening overnight. It didn't happen under Biden. It certainly ain't happening in the next four years. And you might wanna include the full context of the quote you pulled, because cherrypicking is for cowards.

riotbard wrote: surprising absolutely no one but in a contest between 99% Hitler and 100% Hitler the voters wanted full Hitler. They don’t want bargain value Hitler they want the full thing. Oh well, guess next time we’ll run 102% Hitler and see if THAT excites these ungrateful assholes. Didn’t even want Dollar Tree Hitler smh

weenie-extraordinare wrote: This looks and sounds both incredibly fucking unhelpful and terminally online. So Joe Biden and Kamala Harris aren't perfect and beautiful beings of light here to save the world from a shitty celebrity criminal. So they didn't singlehandedly tell a sovereign nation explicitly to stop committing genocide. So they didn't go far enough left for you. Okay. Instead of spending your time crying over how much everyone else in your country loves Hitlers, maybe go outside and talk to people instead of holing up online and blaming the political party that does not want to strip you of your rights for not beating the party that does want to strip you of your rights. Like, I get it, it's not a great time for America. But it could be worse, and now, it will be worse. And if you thought Joe and Kamala were Hitlers, well, just wait and see what Trump has planned for women, Palestine, and Ukraine.

Motherfuckers be like, "Do you know your history?" Better than you yankee-fucking-doodles, apparently. Thank god y'all are just screaming into an internet void instead of saying this kind of shit to people's faces. Y'all make a huge deal out of pointing the finger at your politicians, carrying on like Biden is out there personally, when it's Israel's IDF pulling triggers and slaughtering children. Yeah, the USA is selling them munitions and bombs. It's Israel that's using them. Don't get it so twisted that you're ignoring who is actually murdering the people of Palestine. And let's be real here, y'all pulled a post about "Kamala Harris is not Hitler because a nation she is not the VP of is committing genocide" and turned it into "Look at this fucking verminous approbate, he thinks the black woman isn't a hitler!" And then it kinda swung into "OF COURSE the Biden Administration was solely responsible for allowing them to bom Palestine, and not the blank check written by the US FMF(Foreign Military Financing program)." Y'all so up your own asses over your moral rectitude that you'll dogpile any motherfucker who doesn't bark how you do. Maybe write some letters to your congress, your governors, anyone who represents you, and make your opinions heard. Maybe present those opinions as staunch opposition to the Israeli genocide of Palestinians instead of trying the "Kamala Harris is 99% a Hitler" approach.

And for the record, I have opposed the Israeli occupation of Palestine since the first time I hear about it in the 90's. I still oppose it. I will continue to oppose it. The absolute carnage that is being wrought today is inexcusable. It was inexcusable from the first Nakba, through each fresh conflict, and to the present day.

Free Palestine. End the genocide.

Hey, quick question, who's killing Palestinians? Is it Israelis, or is it Americans? I'd have replied, but you have replies restricted.

September 2, 2024

You know as well as I do that Israel wouldn't have been able to commit this holocaust or invade Lebanon or bomb Iran without the enthusiastic steadfast unwavering zero-red-line ironclad support of the Biden administration. I'm not going to entertain your faux incredulity. It is transparent horseshit.

[space-blue]

Having digested the first 3 episodes of Arcane 2, I'm ready to say something bold and brave, and I hope I don't get too much hate for it.

Vi is just not a nice person.

In season 1, I feel like I was maybe unfair to the writers by saying that "rushing the romance with an enforcer/1% like Cait" was "flattening" Vi's character. That it was bending her out of shape.

How could a Zaunite as maltreated as Vi so easily turn to someone like Cait?

I was told by shippers it's because Cait is the first to show her kindness in a long time, and I still think that's hogwash. She is fresh out of mega hell prison where enforcers beat her so often they lost track of it. I don't believe any amount of kindness could make you fall for an enforcer within 48h in this context. Not realistically.

But now?

Vi hears Cait dehumanizing Zaunites and doesn't fight back. It takes a few compliments to make her accept an enforcer badge. She's running around gasing the people of the Lanes, making excuses for it, while looking fresh out of a WWII horror movie in that gas mask.

And when the gas mask is off, she's wearing Claggor's goggles... Like, yeesh.

She's clearly blinded by Cait. And that's fine! I used to think it was the flaw of the writers trying to hurry a Caitvi ship along. Now I gotta admit, it looks like Vi just doesn't have strong morals.

She hates enforcers but she'll join them easily. Her wanna-be gf says we use toxic gas that has horrible side effects [cut to horror medical slides] and she says "yeah, it's for the good of the people, sure".

She sees Jinx and accuses her of killing Powder, and says she's tired of making excuses for her.

To WHO, Vi? We don't have you on screen apologizing to anyone for Jinx's actions. I'm sure things were said to Caitlyn, but like, yeesh.

She accuses Jinx of orphaning kids, WHILE WEARING AN ENFORCER UNIFORM, the same worn by the people who orphaned HER.

I give up. The writers knew what they were doing.

A flawed woman who wasn't made a better or more moral one by all the suffering she endured in Stillwater.

Vi is cool, but she's not super loyal, is a bit of a meathead, doesn't have her priorities in orders, leads with her fists and caves easily to her emotions. She's horny for Cait and not very interested in the fate of her community.

Being locked up and beaten didn't make her smarter or kinder. It just made her a better fighter.

It's kind of my bad for assuming that Vi "should be better", logically. If she's written as a human, then she should be flawed and yeah, I guess she fucking is lol

I'm curious to see if she develops some... class consciousness, or some patriotism of some sort, when everyone realises the Noxian offers of protection are a yoke. I'm a lot more curious seeing where she ends now that I've accepted she's cool while also kinda shitty. It's nice that it goes along Cait's spiral into villainy.

[slay00ryu]

The Chaotic Duo.

A Ronin x Misaki fic

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Misaki was sitting on top of a building. Shotgun by their side, phone in their shaky hands.

<@hitmeupp>: Anyone wants to be my assassination support?

This was yet another time when they send a message like this to the server, they always did that when the target was either too dangerous or they had a very shitty day. This was the former, their clients hired her to kill a CEO of a big filming company who was also entangled with some shady mafia business. The amount of armed men around him was really getting on the poor assassin's nerves, they just wanted an easy kill, is it so much to ask for?

Well while they were cursing their client in their head, they heard a silent DING, someone dmed them!

<@goreboy>: heard you Needed some Support

<@goreboy>: what's up?

Well, that was unexpected.

Ronin usually doesn't text her when she sends a message like that, it's usually Angel who helps them. Maybe she sent Ronin because she's busy? Yeah, that's probably it.

"Dude oh my fucking God, I am dyinggg here. Like seriously, how guarded can a guy be?" They sent him a short voice message, if Angel really sent Ronin to the rescue then he wouldn't be surprised by the voice message, right?

<@goreboy>: heh seems Like the Best assassin in The Whole fucking japan is really Stressing over a small fry

<@goreboy>: who's The target btw?

"Oh shut the fuck up, I can get stressed!- oh shit he almost looked this way... oops" They send the message and then sent another one. "Some guy who worked with the mafia, the money for him is high."

<@goreboy>: damnnn alr Then maybe shoot him Before He sees ya

<@goreboy>: we Don't wanna our Fav assassin dead

They chuckled at his respone.

"Awh stop or you'll make me blush while i'm killing someone." They said jokingly, Ronin could hear them loading their gun in the message.

<@goreboy>: maybe I'd like to See ya All blushy hm?

Misaki didn't see that message until after they left the rooftop, Ronin's message really did make them blush.

<@hitmeupp>: Oh stfu

<@hitmeupp>: He's dead

<@hitmeupp>: Thanks for the help

<@goreboy>: when You need help Call For the devil and He Will help You out

Ronin chuckled after he sent that reply.

Would he really help the assassin the next time they need help? Never say never, he could as well replace Angel and take some of her worries off of her shoulders, right? Also it's important to keep the server's members alive and out of jail.

Misaki in fact did use Ronin's help, texting him directly to help her out and he was there every time. His replies were different from Angel's, well that was to be expected, they are two different people with very different personalities.

Ronin was encouraging them more in the devilish style, he was flirting with them to keep their mind off of the nerves, made jokes about the target and fed Misaki's ego about them being THE assassin.

<@goreboy>: hey Wanna Call?

<@goreboy>: i'm Bored

Misaki was surprised to receive this DM, Ronin wants to talk, and he wants to do this only with them. Weird? Maybe a little. But he could consider Misaki's interest piqued.

<@hitmeupp>: Ofc babes

Immediately after sending that on their screen was a pop up.

@goreboy is calling.

They picked up without a second thought.

Normally Misaki wouldn't show anyone their living arrangements, but only did they know Ronin for two whole years, he also was pretty open about being in possession of their IP address which meant that he knew where and how they live.

"Hey, hey. What does the big devil want from little me?" Misaki asked once the call connected.

"Not much, jus' bored, and you're quite good at amusing me." Ronin replied with a confident smirk glued to his voice.

"Woah, am I your clown now?" They asked with a fake hurt in their voice.

"More like my personal chaos maker." He was obviously flirting with them, and Misaki wasn't going to let him have his fun alone.

"Maybe we could make chaos together then?" They joked, there was no chance for them to do it together in real life, even if Misaki wished that they could meet up... Wait, what?

"About that." Ronin's voice cut through Misaki's thoughts. "I just happened to get my hands on a plane ticket to Tokio, was wondering if you could be my guide." Ronin's words made Misaki's eyes widened.

"What!" They fell from their chair. "Ouch... wait, wait, wait! What do you mean you have a plane ticket? And to Japan?"

"Don't ask so many questions, you don't need to know." Of course Ronin wouldn't answer, he has to be a fucking mystery. A hot mystery who's really helpful...

"Yeah sure whatever, so you want me to be your guide?" They crossed their arms over their chest.

"Who's better to show me around than the best assassin the whole Japan ever saw?"

"Are you seriously feeding my ego just to get me to agree? Wow Ronin... Why does this actually work every time?" They whined. "Of course I will show you around." They smiled.

"Great, I'll be there next week."

"Wait, what-"

Aaand he hang up.

Yeah. very Ronin style.

"He's coming here? Oh fuck! Ronin IS coming here! Oh my god..." Misaki's voice was mix of stress and excitement.

They started to feel something for Ronin a while ago, but they didn't really know if it would work out. But with him showing up so randomly? Maybe it was a sign?

"Oh my god! Why does it make me so fucking excited?" They groaned and fell on their bed, their face buried in a pillow so they could scream their excitement out.

A week had passed without Misaki even noticing it.

They are standing near the airport exit with the most cheesy and cringey welcoming cardboard ever: "Here stands the devil's servant" written in English, with some edgy stickers all around the words.

It didn't take Ronin long to find them and he was barely keeping in his laughter when he approached Misaki.

"Damn, such a warm welcome. Makes me feel like royalty." He said with that cocky smirk of his.

"...Why are you even hotter in person?" Misaki asked bluntly.

"You're not too bad looking yourself, quite on the contrary, you look so much better in person." He said, Misaki didn't know if he was genuine or if it was just the regular teasing, but their poor heart still took the damage.

"Uh um, yeah! We need to get to your hotel!" They changed the subject, which was answered with Ronin's chuckle.

"Sure, lead the way darling."

The assassin couldn't say that their time with The Butcher was boring. It was anything BUT boring.

Not only did they spent some fun time at the local karaoke, ate some amazing food or did other fun activities. Ronin also made sure to do some illegal activities together, going around abandoned buildings, setting trashcans on fire, Misaki watching Ronin kill a guy, or Ronin waiting for Misaki after their assassination.

They had a good time together. And undoubtedly they grew closer. Close enough that Misaki stole Ronin's shirt from his hotel room and he let her do her thing.

"You're drowning in it." Ronin's voice came from behind Misaki who just put the t-shirt on.

"AH!" They yelled and turned around. "Man learn how to walk and make sound please?" They said and glared at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway... You can keep it." He came closer to Misaki. "Suits you." He smirked.

Misaki's face turned red.

"Uh.. um... thanks?" They weren't sure how to interpret his words, but oh lord even without a proper interpretation their heart went crazy.

"Told you, you're my chaos maker." He whispered into their ear. "And we can just bring chaos to the world together."

Was that really the Devil's confession just now?

[that-fruitsbasketcase]

While Windbreaker is trending I just wanna draw attention to one of my favorite elements of this manga that I haven’t really seen explored: the treatment of the canon queer characters.

A lot of times in this type of manga (shounen, gangster ect.) queer characters (especially effeminate characters) are the butt of a joke. In windbreaker that is not at all the case.

Most important example, LOML Tsubaki. He’s an openly gay cross-dresser who is one of the most well developed characters in the story, despite basically being a side character. (While the fandom likes to interpret Tsubaki in different ways- NB, Trans ect and use varying pronouns- officially the Mangaka has stated he uses he/him pronouns. Which is a really interesting choice and adds a lot to the character. So I’ll be using he/him, since Tsubaki calls himself a man.)

Tsubaki is in love with Umemiya, the head of the student body and it’s not treated as a joke, which is super refreshing. He just has a crush and everyone knows including Umemiya. We’re not sure if it’s reciprocated but the two are very important to each other and Umemiya relies on Tsubaki.

We get a glimpse into Tsubaki’s past and see a very scared little boy who doesn’t understand why he likes what he likes.

Fortunately he finds people who encourage him and love him as he is which gives him the strength to express himself how he wants (wearing makeup and high heels).

He is incredibly strong and brave and will not tolerate anyone who mocks what he or anyone else loves or tries to control them.

Love is his greatest strength and what he fights for the most! And because he’s so determined to fight for love, he’s just as determined to reach out to even his opponents and offer them the same kindness he’s received.

He’s such a passionate, warm and loving person and I fell hard for queen Tsubaki!

Tsubaki is all about self love and acceptance and it’s so refreshing to see a character who presents differently and acts differently than you’d expect from a man (especially in such a conservative country as Japan) be treated with such care and respect by the creators and the characters.

Exhibit B, shorter because we don’t know as much about him, I’m not allowed to post many more pictures, and also because he’s not Tsubaki- my man Endo!

He’s a masochistic weirdo but also it’s kinda just sad that he’s been mooning after Chika for forever and doing everything for him but is treated horribly and practically doesn’t exist in his crush’s eyes. And when he fights with Sakura and feels seen for the first time, he falls hard. (Ok let’s be real everyone is in love with Sakura at this point.)

And as usual, in the face of affection, genuine feelings, and any sort of compliment, our baby boy blushes.

I literally adore his response. As with Tsubaki, he’s very accepting and open. GOOD BOY!!! ALL THE GOOD BOYS!!!!

Anyway I just love that the queer characters are taken seriously and well developed. All these characters are amazing and I could probably make a whole post about each of them but I won’t.

[meeludrawz]

New Rehab Program - Pt 4

A/N: Hey if you wanna get tagged, just tell me! Cuz life makes me update slow, rip

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of you being badly injured, mention of death, also you hate the Twilight saga

During the next couple of days, Shigaraki was oddly 'clingy'. Not physically, but he was always following you around like a dog or cat.

You were watching tv? He was there, sitting on the lazyboy, playing on his phone while sometimes, looking at what you're watching too.

In the kitchen? He was there, sitting on the kitchen island, still doing his own thing though.

The only times he wouldn't follow was when you were in the bathroom, or your bedroom. During those moments, he'd stay in his room. WITH HIS DOOR OPENED. He never closed it now!!

You didn't really understand that sudden switch in him until you decided to examine his behaviour.

From what you had observed, he was clearly grateful to be freed from this collar. That was an easy guess though because the day when you removed it, you put it on the counter. Guess what? Next day there was only a pile of dust left there.

It made you smile, because in all honesty, you would never put it back around his neck. He wasn't a wild animal or caveman with rabies.

You quickly realized that, him following you around, was his own way of saying that he appreciated your presence. Though, knowing his personality, you knew he'd tell you the opposite.

He was still quite silent but at least he didn't ignore you when you asked or talked to him.

You were more than glad to see all this progress when all you did was being kind and patient to him. Even if there was still lots of work to do.

"She should dust them both" Shigaraki hissed at the tv.

You had been bored and had decided to rewatch Twilight. Tomura was still on his phone but he was clearly more focused on the movie. You didn't like this saga but you watched it to see his reaction, to see if he disliked the franchise like you. Was it some kind of therapy? Not really, it was more like bonding time. So far, his reactions were hilarious but you kept your laughs inside.

"Why does Jacob has screen time? He should be a background character only" The white haired man hissed again.

At this point, your show wasn't Twilight anymore but Tomura.

"Why does Jasper keeps staring like a fucking moron? I want to kill him." He went silent for a few seconds. "Is Bella a fucking zombie? She has no emotions" He growled before adding. "If she's a zombie, that would fucking explain why she smells weird to them"

Your laughs escaped your mouth without your consent but you couldn't stop them.

Shigaraki snapped his head in your direction and raised a brow. "Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry it's you- You're just funny, 'cause I agree with you" You wiped your eyes, sighing with a smile.

"Was this a therapy?" He growled in a very low and menacing voice.

"No, I was bored and thought it could be fun" You chuckled and shrugged. "I like judging that saga with my friends"

"I'm not your friend" Tomura frowned.

"Maybe, but it's still fun, right?" You smiled.

Tomura narrowed his eyes as he stared at you, probably trying to decipher how the gears in your brain worked.

After that, he stayed silent for the rest of the movie. Even if his mouth was shut, you could read his body language. He hated that movie and that was an amusing sight.

During the week, All Might, Eraser Head, Tsukauchi and some of your bosses showed up.

You were all sitting at the dining table. Shigaraki and All Might sitting at both ends, right in front of each other. As if they were kings of some kind. Well, Tomura was trying to look intimidating but All Might? He probably just took the first chair he spotted.

As a normal civil, you'd think that everyone was pissed at each other but as a therapist or as someone very observing, you knew how to decipher people. All Might was nervous, Eraser Head was on his guard, even if he hid it quite well, your superiors were angry, Tsukauchi was calm but intrigued while Shigaraki was fuming. He hated those people.

What about you? You were nervous, sitting there in the middle of this silent war. And also because you removed Tomura's collar without anyone's permission, oops. Oh and with the help of All Might on top of that….

Tsukauchi spoke first. "I will ask some questions to begin"

You nodded and dared a look in Shigaraki's direction, he was glaring at Tsukauchi. He knew he couldn't lie, because he knew the cop's quirk and that must be pissing him off.

"Have you two been manipulated to remove his collar?" The officer clicked his pen, turning to you and All Might.

"No" You and All Might shook your heads and Tsukauchi wrote something down before turning to the 'ex-criminal'.

"Have you manipulated them?"

It took a few seconds before Tomura only shook his head, clearly pouting at the officer's quirk. Tsukauchi could detect lies.

"Were you trying to hurt your therapist before your collar reacted?"

"Yes" The white haired man narrowed his crimson eyes.

Tsukauchi didn't seem surprised. "Why?"

"Because they were pissing me off"

Ha, yes, Tomura's famous excuse over anything really.

The inspector noted something before turning back to you. "Has he tried again?"

You shook your head.

Tsukauchi nodded before looking at your superiors, telling them that his part was done.

One of your employers sat down in front of you with a menacing frown. "Now, why did you remove his collar? Do you know the risks?"

Ah, there it was. The one million dollar question. You gulped as you felt everyone's eyes on you but not Tomura's. He was glaring at your superior. But why? Wasn't he interested into what you were about to say?

"Because it's inhuman, because he is NOT a wild animal with rabies. He is NOT a do who has to be put on a leash. He is HUMAN. No one should treat a human like this, it's unfair and cruel. Sure he probably did-"

"Nah, I never put a fucking collar on anyone. I just used handcuffs on that young brat and even removed it from him before he fucking decided to attack me."

"We're not talking to you, Shigaraki" Eraser Head frowned at the man.

Shigaraki only raised both his hands in a 'defensive' way and scoffed.

You decided to continue.

"Yes I know the risks. He can be dangerous, he has free will, like any of us. But I strongly believe that for example, forcing someone to eat when they don't want to is a very bad idea. Just like how you guys forced him into this therapy and forced him to wear the collar."

Everyone stayed silent as they registered what you said.

Oh fuck-

Maybe you spoke too much?

But before you could worry, a huge hand was softly put on your shoulder, All Might was smiling at you with pride and comfort in his eyes.

He was probably thinking that you were the perfect therapist for Tomura. That choosing you was the right choice.

You had only under 5 years of experience and yet, people liked you because you made the therapies different. And for some reason that you ignored, people had started talking about you and it had eventually landed in All Might's ears.

So when he showed up at your workplace, you were speechless. He had asked you, THE symbol of peace, had asked you to help him.

That day, you led him to your office, thinking that he needed therapy. He wasn't there for himself, but for Tomura Shigaraki.

At first, you honestly couldn't understand why he wanted to save the 'apprentice' of his now deceased, arch nemesis. Well no, All Might was known to help countless of people no matter who they were. But then he had revealed you something intriguing. Nana Shimura. Tomura's biological grandmother. Who was no other than All Might's mentor.

Again, you were speechless so you had let him continue. The way he spoke about her, she was a mother figure to him. It clicked in your mind. He wanted to save Tomura because he was family to him, because he felt a mountain of guilt on his shoulders for not being able to be there for the ex-villain.

Frankly, you weren't supposed to let your feelings decide as a therapist but this case touched your heart. You wanted to help. But also, if a criminal as bad as Shigaraki was open to get into therapy, wouldn't that mean he wasn't as bad as we think? Plus, that meant you could help fixing society, right?

You sighed with a smile and glanced at the white haired man.

The villain was staring at you as if you had just confessed that you were an alien sent on Earth.

You chuckled. How great would that be? No more crimes. Just peace and happiness. Sure it probably sounded like an impossible dream but hey, if you could save THE Tomura Shigaraki, you would be saving thousands of people, right?

Your superiors and the Pro Heroes discussed together about this whole 'collar removed' situation.

They weren't really happy with this but the heroes (mostly All Might), had taken your side. You were quite surprised that Eraser Head and Tsukauchi seemed to believe in you too. Again, hella surprising, but much appreciated.

You watched them leave with their cars as you stood in the doorway. Once they were away, you walked back inside and closed the door.

Tomura was still sitting at the table, staring at nothing.

"Are-" You remembered that he disliked being asked if he was okay. "Tomura? You're staring into the void"

He didn't react.

Hm, what could you do?

Ah right! He was obsessed with video games, from what you observed. Hell, you didn't even need to be a therapist to find that out. You decided to speak his 'language'.

"If you keep doing this, you'll start glitching and crash the game"

Tomura finally glanced at you with a scoff. You smiled, happy to see that it worked.

"Never been this close to Eraser Head.." He mumbled.

"Are you a fan?" You genuinely asked.

Shigaraki's face scrunched up as he frowned. "No"

You nodded, you weren't going to ask more so you only headed to the living room.

And just like the past few days, he followed a few seconds later. He plopped on the couch and grabbed his phone while you turned your favorite console on. You picked a new game.

After an hour, you weren't far into it but it had piqued Tomura's curiosity as he often looked up at the TV screen. You were struggling with a boss.

"Don't"

You didn't listen, you were stubborn when you had an idea.

"Dodge! Just- Damn it! What the hell are you doing??"

"I AM dodging!" You replied back.

"No you're not, hand me that!" He leaned towards you and reached for the controller. But you stubbornly refused and stretched both arms away from him, while still holding it.

Did you forget that he was also stubborn? Yes, yes you did. He almost climbed on top of you to snatch the god damn controller.

"Tomura! I can do it on my own! Go away!" You tried pushing him back to his place with your foot but as you both stretched further to keep, (or grab) the controller, you dropped it on the floor.

"HA! Dibs!" The white haired man jumped off the couch to snatch it.

"No!" You quickly grabbed his shirt and he fell on you.

It hurt, you both groaned then immediately froze when you realized, with wide eyes, how close your faces were from each other. You both stared at the other for what seemed like an eternity. He leaned his face closer and closer until your lips were just an inch away. You were short circuiting and shut your eyes hard, panicking a little.

Suddenly his weight was gone.

You opened your eyes, letting out a breath that you'd been holding. Your heart was also pounding, ready to break your ribcage while Tomura was sitting on the floor, in front of the tv, like nothing happened. He didn't seem to give a shit either because he had snatched the controller when you closed your eyes.

But- What happened?

Your cheeks were red and you felt like the room had suddenly become warmer.

Seriously- What the fuck just happened??

Blood

Everywhere

All around you

Shigaraki was holding you tightly against him, screaming in rage and agony. But why?

It was your blood

Your stomach had been shot and you were unconscious… Or dead? In his arms.

He was in pain too, but not physically. He only had small scratches. But his heart? It felt like someone had stabbed it

The young man closed his eyes as he cried. But why was he crying?

And when he reopened his eyes to look at you, the first thing he saw was his pillow that he was clutching against him. It quickly vanished into dust so the villain sat up, confusedly looking around. He was in his bed, right next to his gaming desk. He was back home, but how? Oh right, a dream. The white haired man glanced at the dust on his bed. He didn't care about his pillow right now.

He stood up, Tomura couldn't understand that weird dream. Why was his heart pounding in his chest? Why was his eyes felt itchy? He didn't like you. Did he? No, no he didn't. It was just a stupid dream. Maybe it was that weird werewolf vampire saga that messed up his brain, nothing else.

And yet, even if it was 2 am, he instinctively walked to your doorway. It was never closed for some reason, so he looked at your silhouette sleeping softly.

The bloodied scene came back to his mind and his heart restarted to ache. He couldn't understand, you were there, safe and sound. Sleeping peacefully. Nothing bad happened to you.

He decided to go back to sleep, but first, he needed to clean his bed.

Why did he needed to check up on you? It was only a dream so of course you were fine. His feelings were dumb, he frowned.

What the fuck did you do to him?

A/N: OOOOOOOH THE FEELINGS HAVE STARTED TO SHOW HEHEHE >:3

Pt 3