#also the first book is mine everyone else can fuck off

[autoneurotic]

i got a lotta people on tiktok saying they’d buy my tma kids book and like. you say that. but wait until i say i’ll charge you like, $300+ because it takes SO MUCH TIME and material.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Heyy bbg 😩

How was ur dayyy, mine was ok i went shopping 😘

Whats ur favorite colorrr, i like blue 😝

How would the boyz react to breaking the bedframe during sum rough... activities 😉😏😩😳

Dont forgor to drink water and get atleast 6 hrs of sleep pls 🥺

Heyyy! I am so sorry this took me so long to start on, I went a little MIA there, lol. So of course my first post of 2024 is OM smut lol Happy 2024 everyone! Now, on to the hcs! Mature content below the cut. Warnings for Levi's section, implied monster f*ck*ng, very slight.

Lucifer

This bastard makes no secret of how proud he is to make a mess of MC.

His reaction depends on the position, if the bedframe cracks while he is on top, then he makes sure MC's safe before continuing elsewhere.

MC's barely had time to comprehend that the bedframe gave way underneath them before Lucifer is scooping them up and resuming their activities on his desk or against the wall.

"Lucifer, did we-?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, my darling. Now, sing for me~"

But. If that bed breaks while MC's on top? That is a very different story.

"Look at you, taking me so well even the bed can't take it~"

"Go on, love, do it again."

Demon does not give a shit, clasps MC's thighs and holds them up while he thrusts up to meet their hips.

He may act mildly displeased at having to buy a new bed, but that aura of pure pride rolling off him the next day is fooling no one.

Mammon

Let's face it, he's so sex-drunk he probably didn't notice. He's too busy overstimming himself to the point of tears, pretty noises pouring from his kiss-bitten lips with shameless abandon.

He's the Avatar of Greed after all, and here is his greatest treasure, all naked and pretty for the taking, giving him everything he could ever want. Why in nine circles of hell would he stop?

He'll fuck until the mattress hits the ground, or until MC tells him to stop, because he always retains enough of himself to keep them safe.

Once they're done and laying on a skewed wreck of a bed, sweat colling on their skin, that's when Mammon finally notices.

"Hey...what happened to the bed?"

MC chuckled, pressing a kiss to his brow. "You happened, baby."

His cheeks turned pink and he hid his face in their neck as though he could hide the blush from them. MC felt him grinning against their skin, until the reality struck him.

"How the fuck am I gonna explain this to Lucifer?"

Leviathan

He also wouldn't notice, but not for the reason you might think.

Usually, Levi is a very sweet lover, tends toward the submissive side and lets MC set the pace.

However...

For their lovemaking to get to the point of breaking anything, it's because Levi has gone absolutely feral.

I'm talking more demon than anything else, growling and snarling instead of whimpered, sweet moans tumbling from his lips.

You'd better believe he'll break the bed, the only thing that will stop him is MC, and if they choose not to...

He'll break a lot more than the bed.

Satan

Believe it or not, I don't actually see this happening with Satan.

He's so cautious of his wrath around MC in the bedroom that I'm no so sure he'd even be comfortable playing rough.

The most that happens with him is toppling a pile of books or something. Once, he accidently knocked into a shelf and used himself as a meat shield for MC as the avalanche came down.

That made for an awkward evening when poor Beel come to the rescue.

Asmodeus

Let's face it, if he did it, it was on purpose.

Asmodeus knows exactly what he's doing when it comes to MC's pleasure, knows exactly how to make them writhe just so that it was actually the human who let magic slip in their daze and cracked the bedpost.

The Avatar of Lust chuckled against their sex, his head buried between their thighs and his eyes alight with pure sin. "What else can I make you break, lovie?"

"S-sorry..."

"Oh no sweetheart, don't apologise. Let me see how much more I can make you sing for me~"

[ladykailitha]

Staking My Claim Part 5

We are almost done just one more after this one! I thought about posting this on Tuesday to give the first chapter of the second book of Boy With a Bat some love.

But with this one literally two chapters away from being finished it didn't seem fair to postpone this one.

Here we have Nurse Jeff and sweet Eddie.

Pt 1| Pt 2|Pt 3| Pt 4|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

Once they other three were gone Jeff turned to Steve and Eddie.

“Right the real reason I’m here is because I’m going to make you two don’t jump each other before Steve is well enough.”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other and blushed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jeff said, crossing his arms and leaning back on one foot.

“Eddie go get us some lunch and I’ll make sure Stevie here isn’t going to throw up again.”

Eddie nodded and grabbed his keys. He gave Steve a kiss on the cheek and dashed off, leaving Steve alone with Jeff.

Jeff turned on the light in the kitchen to better see Steve’s face. He held Steve’s chin and turned his head gently to the light and away from it.

“Your dilation is a little slow,” he said. “That’s not good.”

Steve nodded. “I’ve had concussions before. It feels a bit like that. The dizziness, the nausea, the pounding in my head.”

Jeff nodded. “I think I still have some anti-nausea medication and if I don’t, we can try some Pepto, okay?”

Steve nodded. “I wouldn’t have done anything,” he said softly.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“With Eddie,” he whispered. “Not before we got back to Hawkins, anyway.”

“Oh?”

Steve nodded again. “I’m bit too romantic for my own good. And having the chance I might ruin our first time with puking is the last thing I’d want.”

“First time?” Jeff asked over his shoulder as he went to the bathroom.

“I meant it when I licked him, he’s mine now.”

Jeff chuckled.

He came back out holding two bottles. “Looks like I have two kinds of anti-nausea meds. One is very heavy duty, so we’ll try the other one first. We don’t want to mix something heavier if the knock out drug is still in your system.”

Steve nodded.

“In fact,” Jeff muttered. “I should call my mom.”

He set the two bottles on the counter next to Steve and went to the phone.

After a brief conversation Jeff picked up the heavier medication. “She actually recommended the tougher meds to counter whatever was given to you. She even wants you to stop by on your way home so she can look you over.”

Steve blushed. “She doesn’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow and Steve ducked his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. My sister is a lot like you, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“She’s the oldest,” Jeff murmured, “so she was brought up that she had to take care of everyone else and couldn’t ask for help.”

“Oh.”

Jeff rubbed the top of his head. “Look, man. I get it, I really, really do. If your parents are as half the shit the rumor mill makes them out to be, you’ve been abandoned and neglected all your life. Somehow, someway you became the defacto older brother to the weirdest group of latchkey kids I’ve ever seen and you think you have to do everything for them because you didn’t get to have that. But thinking like that will only wear you down and out.”

“It’s hard,” Steve admitted. “They’ve been through so much.”

Jeff let out a sigh. “I get that too. You and those kids have been through some heavy ass shit. I also get that you think that because you’re the oldest you can’t tell them what you’re feeling because you don’t want to burden them.”

“You’re Robin and Nancy’s age,” Steve said quietly.

Jeff frowned, not quiet understanding the comment. Then it dawned on him. “Eddie isn’t.”

Steve’s head shot up. “What?”

“I know it’s hard to remember because he graduated with me and the other guys,” Jeff said. “But Eddie is older then you. He was supposed to graduate in ‘84.”

Steve blinked. “Oh. Yeah.”

“So lean on him,” Jeff said. “Yeah, you’re attracted to him. And you definitely want to fuck. But let him in emotionally, too. I think you’ll find he’s as a great a listener as he is a talker.”

Steve blushed.

Just then the door swung open to reveal Eddie with a large bag of McDonald’s.

“I didn’t know what you would like,” Eddie said with a grin, “so I got a little of everything I could think of.”

Steve smiled. “I’m sure I’ll find something I like then.”

They all dug in and polished off most the bag of fast food.

“Seriously,” Steve said, “why does greasy food always the best hangover cure?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know. It defies all logic. You would think it would be stuff that was easy on your stomach like toast and rice would be better, but nope!”

Steve took Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for taking care of me. I appreciate it.”

Eddie blushed to his roots. “You don’t need to thank me. I just did what the next person would have done.”

Jeff snorted. “Bullshit. You went above and beyond and you know it. There is no shame in accepting his thanks. You did good, man.”

Eddie shoved his hair in front of his face to hide his embarrassment. “You’re welcome, Stevie.”

“I think you should go lay back down,” Jeff suggested to Steve. “We’ll be here if you need us.”

Steve nodded and wandered back to Eddie’s room. He closed the door and laid down, sure that he wouldn’t sleep as he had already slept a lot. But it appeared he needed it more than he thought as he drifted back to dreamland.

***

Part 6

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @hellfireone @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @f0xxyb0xxes @jamieweasley13 @r0binscript @confuseddisastertm @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @dissociatingdemon @dragonmama76

[mamawasatesttube]

prompt 24: "you owe me a kiss" ?

There's someone leaning on the table next to Kon.

Approaching from the bar, Tim can't see his face, but the too-casual-to-be-casual pose, the posturing, the flirty gestures... The way he's leaning down over Kon as Kon sits, saving the table for Tim to get back...

Tim's eyes narrow. Kon's a snack at any given time, to be sure (and especially tonight, in that tight-fitting top and tiny little skirt), but seriously? Hitting on him when Tim is right here?

"—flattered, but I'm here with someone," Kon says, smiling politely. "Have a nice night, though!"

"Aw, come on," the dude cajoles. Tim mentally rebrands him as That Fucking Guy. His disdain mounts. "Oldest line in the book, babe! I don't see anyone here with you. You sure you don't wanna—"

Maybe it's rude, but whatever. Tim intentionally shoves past That Fucking Guy a bit roughly. Frankly, he should count himself grateful Tim doesn't "accidentally" dump a beer all over him.

"Oops!" he says with venomously false cheer. "Didn't see you there. Here, angel, I got you your raspberry mojito."

He sets the glass down in front of Kon, slips his arm around his shoulders, and shamelessly leans down to kiss him. Overkill? Maybe, but it's viciously satisfying to shut That Fucking Guy down so dramatically. Serves him right for not taking the first no as an answer.

Besides, Kon is all Tim's. Hmph. Who does that guy even think he is?

When he draws back, Kon grins at him, eyes dancing. That Fucking Guy is staring awkwardly at them both.

"Told you I'm here with someone," Kon says, and tugs Tim down into his lap. He's about to say something polite to dismiss the guy, but Tim cuts in.

"He's mine," Tim informs him, staring daggers. He offers a smile that's all teeth. "Also, next time someone says 'no', you should maybe consider backing off. Just food for thought!"

"Jesus, okay, I get it, sorry," That Fucking Guy mutters, thoroughly ashamed. Tim watches with vindictive satisfaction as he turns tail and flees back towards the bar.

Kon hooks his chin over his shoulder, grinning. His cheeks are pink. "Ooh," he giggles. "I'm yours, Mister Drake? Am I all yours and only yours?"

Tim swivels to pin him with what he hopes is an unimpressed stare. He has a feeling he's off by several orders of magnitude. (Can't blame him when Kon's sitting here giggling so cutely while dressed like that, okay? Cute and hot at the same time is a deadly combination.)

"Yes," Tim says. "You are."

Kon's flush darkens, his cheeks visibly rosy even in the dimness. "...Yeah." He grins, buries his face in Tim's neck, and then giggles again. His nose bumps Tim's collarbone. "I love when you go full bitch mode at people," he teases; Tim can feel the curve of his smiling mouth against his neck. "Don't tell me you're jealous. You know you're my one and only."

"I know," Tim assures him. Something warm settles deep into his chest. He rubs his thumb over the fuzzy shaved hair at the base of Kon's head, and Kon hums. "It's not jealousy. I just think everyone else should know, too."

Kon laughs outright. Then he lifts his head, his eyes dancing as he meets Tim's gaze. His lipstick is slightly smudged, the glitter on his cheeks glimmering in the low light. "You owe me a kiss."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "I just gave you one." A pause. "Not that I'm opposed to more. But why do I owe you?"

"You left me to sit here all alone, guarding our table." Kon brushes his nose against Tim's. "You owe me for the trouble and heartache. You left me all alone on date night..."

"What, valiantly rescuing you from That Fucking Guy wasn't enough?" Tim asks. His hand curves along Kon's jaw.

Kon snorts. "You named him that in your head, didn't you?"

Tim wisely says nothing.

"He said his name was Bradley," Kon informs him.

"Angel," Tim says, cradling Kon's cheek in his palm. Kon leans into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. "I don't give a singular shit."

Kon lets out another peal of gorgeous laughter. "Yeah," he says, as Tim leans in. "I know."

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE *  assorted (and slightly adapted to suit this meme format) dialogue from the book by casey mcquiston, adjust as necessary

on purpose. i love him on purpose.

i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden.

i'm going to have you offed. you'll never see it coming.

take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.

get in there.

you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state.

before you, i was all right letting everything happen to me.

i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.

sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again?

you've been warned.

he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person.

hey, have i told you lately that you're brave?

i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose.

we're gonna make it work. you and me and history, remember?

if you finish that sentence, i'm gonna spend tonight in jail.

but the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.

i actively wish for the sweet release of death.

yes, good, carry on.

i won't hear a word against it.

we're gonna do it together.

i said you look great, baby!

i meet you in every dream, and when i wake i cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

i'm so in love i could die.

you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse.

i wonder if it's too late to swan dive off the roof.

i'm learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.

you must invent an entirely new system.

a curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back on.

he's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is.

i've bloody well had it!

we can unpack the ironic symbolism later.

that's beyond our sense of decorum!

i'm not afraid of anything i feel. i'm afraid of saying it. i'm only afraid of what happens when i do.

aw, you do care.

if there's any legacy for me on this earth, i want it to be true.

straight people probably don't spend this much time convincing themselves that they're straight.

the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed.

you are the absolute worst idea i've ever had.

should i tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams?

can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?

what are we even defending here?

history will remember us.

when i sleep, i see you.

i hate this so much.

every person who bears a legacy makes the choice of a partner with whom they will share it with.

we're just gonna fucking fight.

he is my choice.

i can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault.

i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mom.

when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i've just been with you.

i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.

your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.

for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all.

the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing you have ever written me.

i promise you, one day we'll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

i want to set myself on fire, but i can't afford for anyone to see me burn.

you see, for me, memories are difficult.

never tell me the odds.

i wish there weren't a wall.

jesus christ, it's like they can see into your soul.

you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you.

i'm finished. i don't care.

god, i want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you.

the whole world watched, and history remembered.

are you quite finished?

just so we're clear. i'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family.

you insane, hopeless romantic little shit.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Three: I found it hard to find someone like you

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader

Chapter Summary: You have an unexpected encounter with Ellie before meeting Joel off bench at the Tipsy Bison. Word Count – 4.4k Chapter Warnings - 18+ blog minors DNI, no specific warnings for this chapter, please see the series list for the full list of warnings though. Reader has a backstory and while her age is not truly specified (in my opinion) an age range is somewhat implied (likely late 30s) and she’s a parent of a teenager.. Notes: Thank you so much for the kind feedback and comments so far - they have meant a huge amount to me. The chapter title is from Streets by Doja Cat.

Previous | Series | Next

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” you say as you dramatically careen towards the kitchen gardens. At this time of day, there’s usually no one else there yet but Sean, so this is your best opportunity to speak to him.

Sean looks up immediately, the alarm clear on his face.

“A mistake?” he asks nervously and you can almost see him mentally running through a list of what could have happened.

“A small one,” you clarify, “I hope.” His face relaxes immediately and he turns his attention back to the seedlings he is tending for a second.

Sean found his place in Jackson easily. It turns out he has a green thumb and even since he started helping in the gardens and greenhouses, the yield on crops has significantly increased, as has the variety of food grown. He barely goes on patrol these days unless he has to. He spends his time instead tending to each crop. He’s always asking if you have more books in the library on agriculture, gardening or cultivating food.

He’s found real purpose in his life here, as has Beau on the patrol team.

It must be peaceful for them both.

“So, what have you done then?” he teases.

“Why do I have to have done something?” You fold your arms in annoyance.

“You’re the one who said that you made a mistake.”

“I said that I think I’ve made a mistake. Think!”

“Sorry, sweetie, you said you thought you made a mistake.”

You smirk at his correction. “I may have - so you know that I go for a wander sometimes when I can’t sleep?” It’s a polite acknowledgement of your chronic insomnia; your attempt to make it palatable.

“Yes?”

“And -”

“I knew you had a hook-up!” he cries triumphantly. “I fucking knew it. Go you!”

“I do not have a hook-up … exactly.”

“What are you talking about then?” Sean asks.

“I’m not the only insomniac in Jackson.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“And recently, I’ve been talking to someone else around that time. You see, they also can’t sleep and then-“

“I’m sorry, are you telling me you’ve basically running an underground insomniac anonymous in Jackson?”

“It’s not like that.” It’s really not that formal, you think, it’s also technically above ground.

“And they said you weren’t a joiner, I’m so proud of you,” Sean teases.

 “Whatever. So, I think we’re friends now. Well, as much as you can be in those circumstances. He asked me for a drink today.”

“He asked for you a drink?”

“And I said yes?”

“And now you’re panicking,” he observes gently.

“This thing works at night. It works in limited circumstances and what if I ruin it by going along with this?” You sink down to sit on the edge of a planter and place your hands on your lap nervously.

“Do you like him?” Sean asks softly, curiosity in his voice.

“I think so,” you admit. It’s the first time you’ve vocalised your feelings for Joel. The first time you’ve conceded that perhaps you feel something more for him than you originally anticipated.

You think of Joel. You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the dry humour that occasionally surfaces, and the genuine kindness that permeates so much of what he says. It’s the way that despite everyone’s assumptions about Joel Miller, when you are with him you cannot help but feel a little safe.

As for whether you like him the way Sean’s implying … images flash of Joel over the past few weeks and you can’t deny that you find him attractive, that you think about him more than you should.

It’s never that easy though. What were you thinking saying yes?

Sean pulls himself up and sits next to you on the planter. “You haven’t really dated anyone since we got here. There was that one date and you -”

You nod, stopping Sean in his tracks. You remember that too well; how it had all started so well and then it had changed. The wrong words, innocently said, of course, and you’d ran out the Tipsy Bison and that had been the end of that.

“I know - I’ve just had other things on my mind,” you say, “I mean, the library is really coming together now.”

Sean cocks an eyebrow at that and you choose to ignore it.

“So, who’s the lucky guy then?”

“Well, that’s the other thing.”

Sean says your name, looks over at you with both encouragement and confusion as you watch him try and mentally work out who it is, trying to work out who else could be an insomniac.

“It’s um, Joel Miller. Tommy’s brother,” you add.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You shrug and for a moment Sean is silent.

“Well, he’s definitely kinda hot. He’s got presence.”

“Mmhhmm.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“Nice? Are we five? Yeah, absolutely, he’s been an unexpected surprise, I guess. That’s the thing, Sean. We’ve literally only ever talked though in the middle of night. I … what if it’s different if I go?”

“It’s a drink, babe, not a marriage proposal. Do you want me and Beau to be around? We can be back-up for you.”

“You’re asking me if I want you both watching me like a hawk and putting even more pressure on the situation? I love you both, but no.”

“So, Joel Miller, huh?”

“Sean!”

“I can see it. He’s definitely your type.”

“What - a fellow insomniac?”

“Tall, dark hair, kinda broody. Hints of grumpiness and mystery. I mean, that’s definitely you. He’s got that whole single parent vibe as well.  Anyway, Beau seems to think he’s okay. He had patrol with him a couple of weeks ago.”

“And? Did he say anything about Joel to you?”

Beau is a fair judge of character; ever since you and Sean ran into him so many years ago, he’s been a guiding force through this changed world. He’s made a lot of mistakes, you know that, but him and Sean -  well, they reminded you of the way love can endure.

You trust Beau though; you trust his judgment and character assessments. They’ve saved you all time and time again.

“Uh, just that he was good on patrol.” Beau had already said that to you before, you’re hoping he expanded on that with Sean though. “He said he was quiet but seemed a good guy. He wanted to contribute, you know, help Jackson and be part of things. That’s a good thing.” Sean pauses and you know he’s holding something back.

“Sean?”

“It’s nothing. It’ s just that Beau said he could - he could recognise some similarities between him and Joel, that’s all.”

Beau has a past. Before he joined your group, you know he survived the only way he knew how. His survival was marked with blood and anger, mistakes and choices that you know he is less certain of now.

“Oh,” you say flatly.

“Beau likes him though,” Sean says brightly.

“That’s good.”

You’ve all done things to survive, things you would rather not talk about. Even you.

Flashes of flames rising through the building, the sound of everything catching alight. An unnecessary distraction it turned out.

The smell of burning, of gasoline invading your senses.

Thick smoke in your throat. Your heart was thumping so loud you were sure he could hear it.

A weapon in your shaking hand.

Choices.

You remember the way your ears were ringing, louder and louder each second to an unholy crescendo.

Sean says your name loudly and you look at him.

“Are you going to meet him then?”

You think of Joel again, bring every detail of him to the forefront of your mind. What do you want to do?

“Yeah, I am,” you say resolutely.

You like it when the library is full. It reminds you of different times; a childhood spent curling up with books and browsing everything at the library. You remember how exciting it was when the library moved to a digital database, when you could search on the chunky PC for any book or author you might like.

You’d spent many happy hours in your local library over the years, which was why when you joined Jackson and Maria asked you what you’d like to be involved with, this was the answer.

Two years ago, there were few books, no DVDs or CDs and a very disorganised system. You’ve built this place up; you might not know the Dewey Decimal System like a real librarian from before, but what you’ve made works. It’s a community space, it’s inviting. There are books. So many books. Tommy even found an old stamp while on patrol and you have fashioned a library card system of sorts.

This is one of the things that keeps you in this town.

A class of teenagers from the school are browsing the shelves . The school doesn’t have a separate library so you pool resources wherever you can, work together as the town tries to  give as rounded an education as it can under the circumstances.

You take a sip of tea and occupy yourself with sorting through a pile of returned books.

“So, what’s your deal with Joel?” Ellie asks bluntly, idly scanning through a pile of comic books.

“My deal with Joel?” You ask, confusion growing. Has Ellie followed Joel to the bench? How else would Ellie know you even speak to Joel?

No. No. Surely you would have heard her.

“He looks at you sometimes,” she says, eyes still narrow with suspicion.

“He looks at me?” you ask nervously and her face changes completely.

“Not - fuck - not like a creepy way. Just like he knows who you are and I’ve noticed him staring a couple of times. It’s clear he’s - he knows you more than just as a stranger. It’s not like - otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that fucking stupid.”

“I never said you were and I wouldn’t say that, for the record.”

Ellie shrugs appreciatively.

“So, a few days ago, I might have heard Joel leave the house in the night -” she starts, avoiding your eyes and looking at the battered wood counter.

“You followed him?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was worried?”

You put your hands on your hip and pull a face.

“Fine, then I was curious.”

“And you know that killed the cat.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s an old saying from before.” You shudder, feeling every bit like the transformation into your mother is underway.

“Right.” Ellie sounds sceptical.

“ Regardless, you followed Joel and?”

“I didn’t listen to anything, I just -”

“You saw us talking?”

Ellie nods, shuffling awkwardly on the spot. “So, what’s your fucking deal then?”

“We’re friends,” you say calmly, idly sorting through a pile of books. You notice one on space and hand it to Ellie. “You’ll like this one.”

“Friends?” Ellie takes the book. “Thanks.”

You nod. “If we’re both up at the same time, then sometimes we just hang out and talk. It’s not - there’s nothing you need to worry about, okay. Does Joel know that you know about this?”

“No. You can’t tell him either. He wouldn’t want to know that I know about the whole not sleeping thing.”

“Right.”

Ellie looks so young for a moment. There’s a vulnerability in everything she says, in every detail of how she’s standing. Her fists are dug deep into her hoodie pockets, she’s avoiding your eye contact and biting her lip awkwardly.

You want to reassure Ellie. You can tell she’s worried about Joel.

It makes you wonder what Gabriel knows. Has he ever noticed you leaving in the middle of the night? Do your family worry about you on your insomniac wanders?

“He’s okay though, right?”

“Yeah, Ellie, from how he is with me … he seems fine.”

“Okay, that’s good. So,” Ellie picks up an old Blockbuster DVD and turns into over in her hands. “This is different from the FEDRA library.”

“I hope so.”

“Is it like what libraries were like before?”

“Not completely, but that’s the hope. We get what we can and it was always a hub in communities - more than just books or videos and music, it was a gateway for people.”

“The old library in the QZ never had movies or music.”

“Huh.”

“I  like it though.” Ellie smiles broadly. “Thanks for the book.”

“Any time.”

“I - uh, I guess it’s cool that you and Joel are friends. You seem ... okay.”

“Thanks, Ellie.”

 The Tipsy Bison is already getting busy. There’s a hum of conversation and noise around you as you walk into the bar. The clink of glasses on tables, hearty laughter and a hub of activity.

You feel nervous walking in, imagining people’s eyes on you, wondering if you’ll be first to arrive. You immediately scan the room and realise that Joel is already there, nursing a glass of alcohol.

When he looks over and sees you, you can’t help smiling and notice the way a smile briefly flashes across his face too. It fills you with relief.

 Joel’s picked a table on the edge of the bar, a slightly quieter space, that you immediately make your way towards.

With each step, the anxiety starts to abate and your butterflies settle.

This is Joel.

He’s wearing a clean green plaid flannel shirt, dark jeans and a brown jacket. His hair is neater, not the unruly mess of curls you usually see on the bench. There’s something about the fact he’s made an effort that makes your body heat up slightly, that sends tingles up your spine.

You wonder how long he’s been here; whether he wondered if you would even show up. Whether that mattered to him.

“Hi,” you say as you sit on the chair next to him.

“Hi.”

Part of you wants to acknowledge it’s strange meeting somewhere that isn’t your bench, but you don’t want to make things awkward. Any more awkward.

“What can I get you to drink?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I can -”

”I invited you,” he says firmly, but with a kind smile. “Please.”

You look over at the amber liquid he’s drinking. “Okay, well the same as whatever you’ve got would be great. Thank you.”

“I’ll uh, be right back.”

You take the few minutes of solitude to gather your thoughts. You sweep imaginary dirt off your jeans, wonder what you should talk about, how you should behave. It feels like you’re in high school again. That nervous question of whether you’re even on a date, while being hyper aware of representing yourself as well as possible while still being you.

It’s funny; the world ended twenty years, but still these anxieties permeate your mind, invade your conscious.

Joel returns, placing the glass in front of you. You wonder if anyone else has noticed the two of you together, but then you meet his eyes.

Suddenly you don’t care.

You take a sip of your drink. This is perhaps one of the real selling qualities of Jackson, the quality of alcohol and food. Sure, it’s as safe as a settlement like this can be, but it’s true value lies beyond that. After years of FEDRA approved rations and bathtub brewed booze, Jackson is a breath of fresh air. It’s been two years and you still can’t get used to it.    

“Still not got old, huh?” Joel asks.

“Nope.”

“Can’t quite get over it either. Tommy keeps threatening that bacon’s on the horizon too.”

“I’ve heard rumours. It’s like - I never realised how much I missed some of those things.” It’s not just food, it’s the idea that a settlement can be like this. It’s the idea of democracy.

You hadn’t found anywhere like this since before. Every other settlement you’d been involved in …

You don’t want to go there right now.

“I don’t think Ellie’s ever had food like here,” Joel says. “Boston QZ was … a culinary experience.”

“That’s one way to describe FEDRA food. I get it, Gabe was the same when we arrived.”

“How old was he then?”

“Ooof, he would have been about Ellie’s age, maybe? She’s fourteen, right?”

Joel nods. You haven’t broached Gabriel much. He knows you have a son; you’ve never hid this from him. You’ve been pleasantly surprised that he hasn’t made any of the faces or comments you’ve grown accustomed to over the years. In fact, if anything he looks like it’s reminded him of something else, like he’s been transported back in time into his own memories.

“His birthday was partway through our journey here actually.” You remember the meagre celebrations you’d been able to muster, celebrations that still felt joyous in being away from the QZ, even if nothing else was certain. You’d wanted to give him a better birthday next time. In Jackson, it’s been different … more like birthdays before.

“Did you know about here already then?” Joel asks.

“Nope, we were just looking for anywhere better than Kansas.” For a month you’d holed up in a cabin near Cody. It was through a chance encounter with Tommy that you’d ended up in Jackson. “Did you?”

Joel’s face slips momentarily and then he fashions a neutral expression. “No, I didn’t.” His words feel stiffer though, there’s a story he’s not ready to share there.

“You came here from Boston though? Well, you’re not originally from there with that accent, but Ellie said she grew up in the QZ?”

Joel nods. “I’m from Texas. I’d been in Boston for years though.”

”That’s a long journey to here.” You’d thought the journeys you had made over the years were long but Joel’s route here - there was so much open country.

Joel nods. “Yeah, I guess it was worth it though.”

“I guess so.”

“Sounds like you had a tough journey too, right? Travelling with a kid … hell, having a kid in this world after everything. It was hard enough before.”

“It’s been - I’m really lucky to have Sean and Beau. They’re the best Uncles to him, they’ve always been there for him.” You smile lightly. “And we’re here now, in a place I didn’t think could exist again.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

You raise your glass and smile, looking around at the crowded bar. It’s a hub in the evenings and you can see the natural cliques and groups that have formed in this community. It’s calm though, even with the noise and the chaos.

It’s rare.

“He had his first mini patrol a couple of days ago,” you say softly.

“That must have been hard.”

“Yes and no. Beau was with him and I guess this is the world now. I need him to survive in it.”

”You sound like you’re close.”

“We are. Well, he’s a teenager so it’s not exactly like it was. He’s a great kid though.”

Joel smiles.

“What uh- actually, don’t worry about it.”

“You wanted to ask about his dad?”

“You’ll tell me what you want to and when you want to. I won’t pry.” You may have never liked Joel Miller as much as you do in this moment. It’s such a small thing, that he won’t chase your stories or ask about your past. It means so much though.

You look over at him. “You’re something else, you know, Joel Miller.”

He shrugs.

“There’s so no big story,” you say, “it was … it was what it was and he got bit.”

Orange illuminating the sky as a building burns. 

The gate so close, yet so far.

What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

“I’m sorry.”

“No-one’s fault.” You’ve told the story so many times it feels easy now, rehearsed the lines, fashioned the right expressions.

“We’re here now though, right?” you say, allowing as much optimism as you can muster through. 

“Yeah.”

“Though unfortunately it’s not karaoke night tonight,” you say with a smirk, eyeing the machine in the corner of the bar and taking it as a welcome distraction.

“I’m devastated.”

“I expect so. What would be your song?”

“I don’t do karaoke.”

“Oh, come on. It can be fun, if you’re with the right people. Are you more of an open mic guy then? I could see that.”

For a moment you picture another world, another night. Joel sitting on a stool with a guitar, playing guitar. You imagine yourself with one of those sugary cocktails you always fantasised about, in a world where the most controversial thing you thought about fungi or mushrooms was whether they belonged on a pizza.

“What about you? What’s your song then?”

“Well, maybe if you come here for karaoke night then you’ll find out.”

“Oof, you’re asking a lot, sweetheart.”

“Then you’ll never know.”

The mood feels lighter, easier. You run your fingers over with the edge of your glass. You can’t remember the last time a friendship, let alone a date, felt this easy.

“I’m guessing you’re a Fleetwood Mac girl,” he says after a moment.

You don’t reply and just raise an eyebrow instead.

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition. Am I right?”

“Actually, you are. If Sean pours me enough alcohol, I have been known to blast out some Backstreet Boys.”

“I’m going home right now.”

You tilt your head back in a genuine burst of laughter, one hand over your mouth.

You meet Joel’s gaze as you settle yourself “I’m thinking maybe … Pearl Jam, definite grunge vibes and maybe Johnny Cash for you? And Springsteen, I’m feeling some karaoke Springsteen for you.”

“Maybe.”

“I thought - I thought this might only work on the bench,” you admit.

“Nah, I knew we’d be fine anywhere,” Joel says confidently, looking straight into your eyes. He looks at you as though he’s drinking in every detail of your face in this scenario, in this bar away from the torchlight you have previously gotten to know each other over.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. The bench is just a bench.”

”So, it’s actually about the company, you’re saying?”

“Maybe.” His mouth twitches with a smile. 

“Joel Miller, you better be careful saying things like that. If anyone else overhears it, you may lose that tough reputation you’re cultivating.”

He shakes his head at you. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

The conversation continues to flow, you notice that you’ve got closer over the evening, close enough your knees are touching.

“Can I walk you back?” Joel asks, ever the gentleman as the two of you start to go through the emotions of getting ready to leave.

You’re not far from the Tipsy Bison but you’re not ready for this to end.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk step in step and there’s something about being outside, the crisp air and the sound of both of your pairs of boots hitting the ground that instantly grounds you.

“So, you think we set off some conversations in there?”

“Most definitely,” you say with a smile. “I think Seth looked ready to run and tell everyone in the town.”

“God, I hate small towns.”

“Says the man from Texas. That’s like, the embodiment of small-town culture. I bet the suburbs there were just like a small town, I bet you had nosy neighbours and -”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. How was where you grew up any better?”

“It just was,”  you say, folding your arms which makes Joel chuckle.

“Okay then, I believe you.”

“This is me,” you say, pointing at home in the near distance. The kitchen light is illuminated but you can’t see if Gabriel’s still up as his room faces the back.

“Thank you,” you say, awkwardly walking up to your porch. “For the drink, and the company.”

“Same to you. I uh - I had a nice time.”

“Just nice?” You like seeing this playful look in his eyes.

“I had a good time then.”

“Me too.“

Somehow you are now leaning against the wall next to your front door and Joel’s right by now. He doesn’t feel threatening though, there’s a careful distance as though he’s still gauging whether this is an option.

You nod in subtle encouragement, placing a hand on his arm, wetting your lips in anticipation.

He places a hand against the wall, framing your body and gently moving you slightly to one side, further from the door.

You’re never sure what to expect in a first kiss. Some people move straight to desperation and want and fire, some start slow and build up, set a fire inside you until you’re burning. You try and assess Joel, analyse which type he might be.

This is happening.

His lips meet yours. He starts off tentative, as though he’s confirming you’re on the same page still and then as your hands move up his arms to wrap around his neck, he deepens the kiss, presses his body closer to yours as you back up against the wall.

He’s illuminated in your porch light, a warm yellow glow shining on him.

For a moment it’s just the two of you. It doesn’t matter that you live in the world you do, or that it’s cold and damp outside - none of it matters.

You can feel the warmth of his body, familiar heat starting to pool in your stomach as he runs your hands down your shoulders, skimming the side of your waist down to the edge of your jeans.

“I should go,” he says, voice honeyed and low.

You don’t want him to. Even if it’s sensible.

There’s a slight silence, the nerves rising between you both as you try and figure out what to do next. You point at the blue painted front door next to you.

“I should go in.”

“Yeah. Good night.” He kisses you briefly on your lips and murmurs your name like it’s precious before turning away.

You notice Sean and Beau sitting at the kitchen table as you walk into the hallway. Sean has a Cheshire Cat grin on his face that makes you want to throw the nearest thing you can find at him.

“Evening,” Beau says with a mock drawl. “How was the Tipsy Bison?”

“I hate you both.”

“No, no you don’t.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“He went up to bed about half an hour ago but I think he’s actually playing on his console.” Electricity, consoles, another reason to stay in Jackson.

You can still feel the ghost of Joel’s lips on yours.

Maybe there are a few more reasons to stay here.

Tag List

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[onthewaytosomewhere]

RWRB, no smut please (unless it's drinks at the bar or skinny dipping) because I just want all the fun summer feels, and pick whichever prompt you like because I love them all! Oh, and Junora or firstprince please!

well i accomplished no smut!! hope ya like this one Morgan 💚 you got a lil reading and swimming cuz that's just the direction the silly boys went

this can also be found on ao3 if you'd rather

no cut cuz no smut :)

Alex is sitting out on the dock reading the newest book Henry recommended to him while soaking up some Texas sun. Their trips to Lake LBJ are rejuvenating in a way that they both need so much. They both get time just to be themselves, and ever since the first one when they came back to reclaim it, they make sure to get some time before everyone else gets in just for the two of them. This year, they’ve finagled a whole week to themselves, and while Alex is loving Henry becoming more comfortable as the week progresses, he’s been trying to get through this book he started on the flight out the last three days. Trying because he keeps getting distracted by Henry and all the skin he’s been showing, by the soft swell of his stomach as he walks around in swim trunks or just shorts and the tight-as-fuck tank tops Alex always forgets he has until they’re here.

Right now, Henry is sitting on the end of the dock, feet in the water, stretched back to soak up the sun, which is reflecting off his hair. Alex really doesn’t understand how he should be expected not to want to be over there with him. He places his book down on the chair he drug out onto the dock and walks over to plop himself next to Henry.

Henry cracks his eyes open and smiles at him, “How is the reading going, love?”

“It’s not—because, for some reason, I’d rather be sitting out here by you than in the perfectly comfortable chair I brought out here.”

Henry closes his eyes again. "Hmmm … Well, I am more than happy to have you out here with me. I was thinking about a swim. Are you up for it?”

“Of course, you up for a race? The first one to the buoy and back gets a kiss?”

“This seems like I win even if I don’t actually win. Unless you’re going to be claiming a kiss from someone else.”

“No, I only want my kisses from you.” Alex proves his point by stealing a quick kiss before standing up on the edge of the dock.

“So this is what they call a win-win scenario? I get to watch you cut your way across the water like you belong in an Olympics race, and then I get a kiss when you inevitably beat me back here. Sounds like there should be a catch somewhere.”

“No catch, just a clarification, I’ll be the one getting the kiss in that scenario. As in, you will be pressing your lips to mine. I will get to feel your lips move against mine as your tongue attempts to work its way into my mouth because you will be carried away with your love for me.”

Henry hops up from where he’s sitting and places a kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Are you sure you’re not the writer?”

“Are you saying what I said sounds fictional?

“No, quite simply saying the way you described what is most likely an accurate foretelling of events to come sounded poetical in that accent of yours that gets thicker every time we’re down here. Now, are we going to race so we can get back here and you can claim your prize?”

Alex does win the race and gets to claim his prize. His laugh when Henry says, “I don’t know this still feels like I’m winning,” in between kisses rings out across the lake.

[kiseiakhun]

this post, https://www.tumblr.com/kiseiakhun/747865134888861696/when-his-comics-were-first-published-in-1994-the?source=share combined with knowledge of state sponsored publishing to create this idea. Atlantean fetish books directly sponsored by the Atlantean government. (Atlantean porn, officially brought to you by Aquaman) Atlantis doesn't have the same conventions about sex as humans & therefore might be more willing to attach the state to this. Also this way they get to control what's being published about them & gives them a ready made market to propagandise to.

(also they would try the reverse in Atlantis. also sponsored by the atlantean government to get the population to be more accepting of humans)

(re: this)

Hi anon I want you to know I showed this ask to all my Servers the day you sent this because I am so enamoured with it. Can we get married.

Now I'm sidetracked about how Atlanteans would have paper... like you can't make paper underwater and I can't think of any equivalent methods that would work in the ocean. Maybe a water-curing resin? Paper gets part of its strength from how cellulose shrinks and sort of links together as it dries so a natural plasticizer would seem like an equivalent... maybe they could just hack off pieces of fallen wood and polish it, but that takes wayyyy more skill and effort and time compared to paper making. Hm. Maybe they could mine volcanic stone? Maybe they just import cotton paper from the surface (thick cotton paper doesn't fall apart when it's wet like wood-based paper. At least not as easily). Maybe they draw on rocks with silverpoint. HMMMM. @pluckyredhead @aqua-dan do they address this in the comics?

I'm thinking so hard about this because drawn porn, at least, would need paper. Written porn in theory does not need paper, though it's wild to imagine people dictating their erotica to surface transcribers. Like do you think there's a specific job for that or do you have to podfic your porn yourself if you're a writer? Do most Atlanteans even know how to use their vocal chords to talk? All of their communication is telepathic.

Video porn is easy; we already have waterproof cameras, though I think equipment would have to be modified to withstand pressure at the deeper end, ALTHOUGH I don't think most of Atlantean society lives in the depths, Garth is regarded as something Exotic™ because he comes from a deep-sea kingdom Garth should have bioluminescence don't @ me.

Anyway yes. I think Atlantis would have to have different conventions about sex because water transmits vibrations so much better than air. Like... if you're fucking people Know. Everyone will Know. They can literally feel you fucking through the air. When you fuck everyone else fucks with you. I bet Atlantean orgies are a really popular porn genre. I bet surface people fetishize it. I bet Atlanteans are really intrigued by how people on the surface can just keep sex a SECRET and hidden/forbidden romance is really popular.

Okay so now the question is, is Atlantis propaganda porn vanilla (for them), a way to show Proper Sex, or is it wild freak shit to show off the ingenuity of their populace? What do you think they show in their Fucking videos. What do they import.

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Modest Management Suck

2012

Part 20

“We’re about to go out and do some signing” Harry says to the camera

“We’re at Natick Mall in Boston. It’s gonna be really fun, we’ve heard there’s loads and loads of people and we’re very very excited” Niall says as I laugh at Louis pretending to walk down stairs behind us

“Let’s go!” Liam and Harry shout at the same time. We stand behind a door waiting for it to open

“Anyone else feeling nervous?” I ask feeling a slight tingling in my toes and fingers. I can also feel my heart racing

“It’s excitement, you’ll be fine” I hear Richard say. Nodding my head I watch the doors open and I put a smile on my face. I walk behind Harry and in front of Niall just trying to focus on my breathing as we walk through the Mall where so many people are screaming. We all sit down shocked that this many people have come out to see us. The security then let the fans in small groups come over to us. We sigh the books that we had released late last year.

Throughout the whole time I try to keep smiling and my heart racing at bay, but I can always count on my boys for noticing when somethings off. So when we have a little break for something to eat I sit down on the sofa breathing in deeply

“What’s up?” Louis asks frowning as he sits next to me

“I don’t know, my chest hurts” I almost sob “I- I can’t stop shaking, but I’m not cold I’m really warm”

“Paul I don’t think YN should go back out there” Liam says

“No, but Simon…”

“Fuck Simon and what he says” Niall says sitting on my other side

“She’s going out there even if I have to drag her out there” Richard crosses his arms

“Look at her, she can barley breathe” Paul defends

“I think this is makin’ her worse” Harry kneels down and takes a shaking hand in his and gives it a squeeze of reassurance

“She’s going out there and that’s final” with that Richard leaves the room

“Hey jus’ look at me and breath with me” I try to match Harry’s breathing to calm myself down.

Another day another performance. This time is for the Today Show. We arrive on a bus which stops at the Rockefeller Plaza. We all jump off and run to the stage as music is already playing

“New York City make some noise!” Harry yells into his microphone. Immediately WMYB starts playing

“You're insecure, don't know what for. You're turnin' heads when you walk through the door. Don't need makeup to cover up. Bein' the way that you are is enough” Liam starts singing. Harry then turns to look at me and gives me a little encouraging smile since I’ve been feeling so worried and stressed recently

“Everyone else in the room can see it. Everyone else but you”

We all sing the chorus, then it’s Zayn’s turn then mine

“I don't know why you're being shy and turn away when I look into your eyes”…

“One Directions first album has hit number 1 in 6 countries and they could make it 7 this week when Up All Night is released here in the United States. One Direction is Zayn Malik, Niall Horan, Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson and YN YLN. Good morning guys”

“Morning” we all say in unison

“What do you like best about American girls?” the interviewer asks and I roll my eyes at the question. I then spot Richard off to the side shaking his head at me

“They’re very very loud” Liam says which causes everyone to scream

“YN what’s it like for you? Your living every girls dream right now being close to these boys all of the time”

“Your right I am living my dream, but it’s being on stage and singing. I’m just lucky I get to do that with these guys I can call family” I reply

“What’s the best and worst part of this sudden fame?”

“I think for me and I know these guys will probably agree, but I’ve made 5 best friends” Zayn says “the only down side would be that we don’t get to see our friends and family as much” or that our every move is controlled, is what I would love to have added on. We continue on the interview and sing a few more songs.

I stand next to Louis and Harry while our choreographer puts us in our places for rehearsals for the Kids Choice Awards

“I want YN and Zayn to switch” Richard says hands on his hips “we can’t afford more cheating rumours so during this song you have to stay away from each other”

“And what happens when the press say YN and Liam are dating or YN and Niall?” Zayn asks

“We will deal with that if it happens. Harry I’m looking into getting you and Taylor Swift together. Boots both of your careers”

“Are you serious?” Zayn raises his eyebrow “this is ridiculous” he huffs

“Simons wishes, keep rehearsing” Richard then leaves us to carry on rehearsals. I take in a deep breath just as I feel an arm around my shoulder. I look up to see Zayn

“I know, me to” neither Zayn or I have ever liked Richard, but we’ve always tried to keep the peace but it’s getting harder and harder.

[menelaiad]

Agamemnon is explicitly stated to be hot/muscular. It's in the source material. Books 2 and 3 in particular. I highly doubt being compared to the Gods meant being "chubby" or super old. The ancient text obviously wouldn't say "ripped" because that wasn't in their vocabulary. But they refer to him as everything else that such a body would imply.

And Achilles was saying things in anger in Book 1. Everyone forgets how in Book 23, Achilles pretty much retracts everything he said and claims Agamemnon is the best natural warrior which he was.

tldr; im a petty bitch

y'all are SO PRESSED ON THIS LMAOOO I'M CRYING

'ripped' isn't in their vocabulary?? but 'hot' and 'muscular' are? really?

AGAIN about your last point, cause people who are so pressed about this just keep ignoring it: YOU CAN BE A WARRIOR. AND NOT BE CONVENTIONALLY 'RIPPED'. NOTHING ABOUT A HUMAN BEING - A HUMAN MAN HAVING A SLIGHT TUMMY WILL STOP HIM BEING ABLE TO RUN, FIGHT, KILL PEOPLE AND BE A WARRIOR. YOUR WEIGHT IS NOT AN AUTOMATIC INDICATOR OF YOUR FITNESS LEVEL/ABILITIES.

that's y'alls prejudice about larger people coming through. this stupid belief that the ancient world represented 'the peak masculine alpha ideal' no????? this whole 'if man strong and can stab and have sex with woman then man must be muscley and ripped cause that make man sexy' like shut up.

it's baffling to me that you're all so heated on this. the mere thought of a human man having a tummy is sending you all west. you can't cope. a human man who consumed copious amounts of alcohol (because ancient greeks just did???) and probably had a very rich diet. having tummy??? NO. ILLEGAL.

im sorry but im cracking up over here. i couldnt care less whether people think aga has a 16-pack, that he's skinny as a twig, that he's fat, that he's not, that he's somewhere in between - idc. but your adamancy against 'slight tummy' aga. is just ..... fatphobic. and i never thought i'd type that word out being a fucking classics blog lmaooo.

i have shared so many DUMB opinions on this blog. from menelaus' teeth to odyssues' hairy feet and yet the thing that gets the most reaction from people - is agamemnon's weight.

that's what's pissing me off. everything else? whatever have your own opinion, you weird menelaus girl. but the sECOND i say why i think i character might be a lil chubby OOF ouTRAGE. IM A FOOL.

also your point is just so incredible. my issue isn't with you thinking aga was a ripped sex god crafted by aphrodite herself. it's your use of the word 'explicitly' cause aga's size (in regards to his weight) is NEVER explicitly stated ANYWHERE. so we're both just having our own opinions. but mine has got you so pressed????

i own a couple translations of the iliad. lets look at some. and see the descriptions of aga, shall we? cause i know exactly which sections you mean in book 2 and 3. contrary to your apparent belief, i have read the iliad.

we'll do book 2 first to make it all easier to follow:

PETER GREEN

“among them the lord Agamemnōn, in eyes and head like Zeus who delights in the thunderbolt, like Arēs in girth, and with the chest of Poseidōn. As one steer in a herd of cattle stands out, far above them all— the bull, distinguished among the cows assembled round it— such a one on that day Zeus rendered Atreus’s son, preeminent among many, of heroes the foremost.”

... again. nothing really? girthy??? eyes like zeus (nice)??? tall??? nothing about weight here babes.

CAROLINE ALEXANDER

there to go into combat, and with them was lord Agamemnon— his eyes and head like Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, his girth like Ares, his chest like Poseidon’s. As when an ox stands out from all others in the herd, a bull who is preeminent among the gathered cattle, so did Zeus on that day render the son of Atreus conspicuous amid the multitude, outstanding among warriors.

pretty much the same?? gets called an 'ox' here though. ooooh

ROBERT FAGLES.

and there in the midst strode powerful Agamemnon, eyes and head like Zeus who loves the lightning, great in the girth like Ares, god of battles, broad through the chest like sea Lord Poseidon. Like a bull rising head and shoulders over the herds, a royal bull rearing over his flocks of driven cattle — so imposing was Atreus' son, so Zeus made him that day, towering over fighters, looming over armies.

just more girth stuff. that can mean his shoulders?? his chest?? his ass? bro we don't know. was aga just THICC. his cheeks always alerting the trojans???

ROBERT FITZGERALD.

Agamemnon's lordly mien was like the mien of Zeus whose joy is lightning; oalken-waisted as Ares, god of war, he seemed, and deep-chested as Lord Poseidon, and as a great bull in his majesty towers supreme amid a grazing herd, so on that dav Zeus made the son of Atreus tower over his host, supreme among them.

i like this one tbf. this one has got more meat on it. 'oaken waisted'. nice nice. again. i don't see oak trees are particullarly 'narrow' but hey. interpretation is what makes this field so great.

RICHARD LATTIMORE

“powerful Agamemnon, with eyes and head like Zeus who delights in thunder, like Ares for girth, and with the chest of Poseidon; like some ox of the herd pre-eminent among the others, a bull, who stands conspicuous in the huddling cattle; such was the son of Atreus as Zeus made him that day, conspicuous among men, and foremost among the fighters.”

STANLEY LOMBARDO

To enter battle, and Lord Agamemnon Moved among them like Zeus himself, The look in his eyes, the carriage of his head, With a torso like Ares', or like Poseidon's. Picture a bull that stands out from the herd Head and horns above the milling cattle— Zeus on that day made the son of Atreus A man who stood out from the crowd of heroes.

SEE this one we're not even talking about his LITERAL appearance but how he's holding himself. how he acts. his CONFIDENCE. cool take, stan. i like it.

STEPHEN MITCHELL

“and among them was Agamemnon, his splendid eyes and head like almighty Zeus’s, his thighs like the thighs of Ares, his chest like Poseidon’s. As a bull stands out in a herd above all the others, sovereign among the cows as they graze in a field: just so, on that day, did Lord Zeus make Agamemnon supreme over all the warriors massed before Troy.”

LOVE the thigh mention Mitchell. nice nice.

'The ancient text obviously wouldn't say "ripped" because that wasn't in their vocabulary. But they refer to him as everything else that such a body would imply.'

bro all i'm getting is the word 'girthy'?? if you want me to be a bitch about it, that's not a word i'd put with someone who is 'ripped'. if anything, they're implying he got junk in his trunk. i truly hand on heart. cannot see anything in the book 2 translations that imply or indicate to me that he does not have a tummy. that he is rocking a six pack. WHICH IS FINE. we can play with it and form our own opinions. but you're THIS IMPLIES .... is wrong??? it doesn't imply anything dude????

all we can infer from any of the book two stuff is that he's a man who is larger than the other men around him - literally? metaphorically? we dont know. (which is all horseshit anyway cause priam later goes on to say he's a short arse which is helpful). and that he shares qualities with the gods. again, literally? metaphorically? bit of both? we. don't. know.

TIME FOR BOOK 3. the priam and helen thirst.

PETER GREEN

“and to put a name for me to that huge warrior down there, that Achaian leader, of such stature and so strong: others there may be taller still by a head, and yet so fine a man have I never set eyes on, nor one so majestic in bearing—he looks to be of royal blood.” helen later calls him a 'strong spearman'

CAROLINE ALEXANDER

tell me the name of this gigantic man, who is this Achaean man, good and great? To be sure there are other men even greater in height, but I have never beheld with my eyes a man so handsome, nor so majestic; for he seems a kingly man. helen later calls him a 'powerful spear-warrior'

ROBERT FAGLES

“ tell me the name of that tremendous fighter. Look, who's that Achaean there, so stark and grand? Many others afield are much taller, true, but I have never yet set eyes on one so regal, so majestic . . . That man must be a king!” helen later calls him a 'strong spearman'

ROBERT FITZGERALD

Come, tell me who the big man is out there, who is that powerful figure? Other men are taller, but I never saw a soldier clean-cut as he, as royal in his bearing: he seems a kingly man. helen later calls his a 'formidable warrior'

RICHARD LATTIMORE

“You could tell me the name of this man who is so tremendous; who is this Achaian man of power and stature? Though in truth there are others taller by a head than he is, yet these eyes have never yet looked on a man so splendid nor so lordly as this: such a man might well be royal.” helen later calls him a 'strong spearfighter'

STANLEY LOMBARDO

Now tell me, who is that enormous man Towering over the Greek troops, handsome, Well-built? I've never laid eyes on such A fine figure of a man. He looks like a king. helen later calls him a 'strong warrior'

STEPHEN MITCHELL

“Tell me now, what is the name of that splendid man who is standing down there, so powerful and so tall. To be sure, there are other men who are even taller, but never before have I seen a man so majestic, so splendid in form and bearing. He must be a king.” helen later calls him a 'mighty soldier'

again. in all of these - nothing. all that's consistent is that he's not the tallest man at troy. which means ..... very little ASDFGHJK. there is Nothing concrete here. nothing that points us more one way than it does the other.

ultimately, dude, what we've got is.... nothing. nothing concrete. nothing definitive. i can't say you're wrong and you can't say i'm wrong.

i saw the phrase 'wine sack' and interpreted it my way and you saw it and interpreted it differently. but books 2 and 3 certainly don't back either of us up more definitively.

and in regards to his age. same thing. you can't say i'm wrong and i can't say you're wrong. but i've explained my reasonings for aga's age using sources HERE

idk man. if you're looking for an EXPLICITLY YOUNG CHISELED ABS LEGEND MALE CHARACTER. look elsewhere.

[thecasualfkfan]

As the Red,White and Royal Blue movie is released,here's an email from the book which I really really love-

-------------------------------------------------------

A <agcd@eclare45.com>

9/4/20 8:31 PM

to Henry

H,

Fuck.

I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m so sorry. June and Nora send their love. Not as much love as me. Obviously.

Please don’t worry about me. We’ll figure it out. It just might take time. I’ve been working on patience. I’ve picked up all kinds of things from you.

God, what can I possibly write to make this better?

Here: I can’t decide if your emails make me miss you more or less. Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. Catholic God made me to be the person you write those things about. I’ll say five Hail Marys. Muchas gracias, Santa Maria.

I can’t match you for prose, but what I can do is write you a list.

AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES

1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off.

2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?).

3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough.

4. How your hands look when you play piano.

5. All the things I understand about myself now because of you.

6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you’re a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after.

7. Your ability to recite Keats.

8. Your ability to recite Bernadette’s “Don’t let it drag you down” monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

9. How hard you try.

10. How hard you’ve always tried.

11. How determined you are to keep trying.

12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters.

13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it).

14. The way you look when you first wake up.

15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio.

16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart.

17. Your equally huge dick.

18. The face you just made when you read that last one.

19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it).

20. The fact that you loved me all along.

I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry.

Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down.

A

P.S. Richard Wagner to Eliza Wille, re:

Ludwig II–1864 (Remember when you played Wagner for me? He’s an asshole, but this is something.)

It is true that I have my young king who genuinely adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the same kind must pass in the mind of this lovable man when with me. He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters he writes to me.

-------------------------------------------------------

- Ch 11, Red white and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Day Two

Mush For Breakfast—Honesty’s Job Goes Terribly Wrong—The City Has A Worse Day—Camilla-And-Palamedes—“Keep Her Home Tonight”—Four Days Until The Tomb Opens.

Four days.

Starting to understand the format of this book: A "dream" about John, about Alecto, followed by a Day in Nona's life. Who's keeping track? Who knows when the tomb opens?

...Pyrrha?

Either that, or Nona is being watched by someone else.

Either way; One day down, four more to go. Let's get started.

7

Second skull. (Judith? The Cohort?)

Nona’s dream cut off abruptly. [...] “It’s the sitting part. My feet are in the nice water, the safe water. The water’s in my boots. My socks are full of it. I’m talking to her but I can’t see her face. I tried to, Cam, but it’s what always happens, I don’t manage to look at it, it just doesn’t work.”

Nona isn't dreaming about John; she's dreaming about someone else. The picture face, she called it the day before; we still don't know whose picture, do we?

“I’m touching her hands. She’s touching my hands. But in the dream it’s always my hands, remember, Cam, I’m touching my own hands but they’re not mine.”

I'm counting this as evidence that Nona is Alecto. Her hands but her hands are Nona's, she is Nona.

“There’s eyes all around us, red eyes. In the darkness. I remember this time, they’re red.” “Do you have any thoughts?” “Yes,” said Nona. “I’m hungry. In the dream. Really hungry.” The pencil stilled. “You’re hungry?” “I’m so hungry,” said Nona.

Welp, this isn't alarming or ominous at all. Red eyes? So hungry?

“Who do they feel like they belong to? Do you like them?” Nona chortled. “Not one bit.” Nona hated having hands.

That's interesting. Nona loves every part of her body. But not her hands? Or at least, not the hands in her dream?

I really wanna know more about this.

“Pyrrha—why does We Suffer hate you?” “Because I remind her that her God was just a human being who could get tired and fuck up,” said Pyrrha instantly. That was the wonderful thing about Pyrrha: she didn’t waste time saying things like “What made you think of that?” or “Why?” She went ahead and answered. In a way though, it was also a bad thing about Pyrrha, because she lied and told the truth at exactly equal top speeds.

So Pyrrha does lie, and could be lying about any number of things, including this.

Interesting that We Suffer considers Wake her God. I assume that's what this means.

“If you’re that charming,” said Nona, “how come you’re single?”

Oooooohhhhhh, sick burn. Careful Nona. Though if I were to guess, I'd say the answer is "because she's busy keeping you safe, Nona".

Pyrrha had used to be like Camilla and Palamedes and now her equivalent of Palamedes was gone—really dead—killed by a terrible monster that nobody would describe to her.

Yeah no it seems basically impossible to even describe the resurrection beasts. And also, yeah Gideon is dead - but that's most likely only part of why Pyrrha is heartbroken. She's lost all her old friends - all the first Lyctors are dead! - she's lost her necromancer, she's lost Wake as well, who she had a passionate affair with. Pyrrha is unspeakably old and everyone she used to know is dead. She must be so lonely.

“Who, and whyfor, did you bribe?” “Some guys. Site C,” said Pyrrha succinctly. “For God’s sake, Pyrrha, if it’s that hard to access I’ll swap you Site B, Cam and I have ways and means of accessing—” “I would pay any amount of money to stop you taking that risk you take,” said Pyrrha,

Palamedes and Pyrrha bickering is almost cute. But also what the fuck are they investigating? And why won't they tell Nona anything?

Oh -!!! They're talking about some kind of trial, which makes it very likely that Pyrrha helped Camilla and Palamedes achieve Lyctorhood. And they can both be present at the same time, only it puts a massive amount of strain on Camilla's body. Interesting.

“What d’you want from the cheap-jacks, No-No?” “Oh, nothing—except it is my six-monther soon,” she reminded Pyrrha. Camilla said, “You can get a present once it’s been a year.”

Is this what we're leading up to? Nona's six-month anniversary of being alive? Is this what her "birthday" is going to be?

I was wondering about that, and about how they'd know it was her birthday if she wasn't remembering anything, so that might explain it.

But Pyrrha said, “God, you think she’s ever gotten presents? I visited her hometown back before Anastasia got settled, and it was grim as fuck then. Just spooky caves all the way down…”

Damn, good point. I think the closest to a present Gideon ever got was that two-hander - and Harrow, that lollipop when she was like three. Fuck man, these girls have led extremely depressing lives so far.

Nona goes to school, Honesty has a black eye, and when he tells the story of what happened -

“Said the eyes was all white. But he said he was moving quietly, real quietly, and these guys—they’re all just sitting around—they all look up … they all look at him … with these white-out eyes … they all look up at the same time. They look at him. He kept saying that,” he said suddenly, breaking off. He said, “Kept saying, they saw me, they saw me, oh my God.”

What the fuuuuuuuck. Who are those guys? Eyeless creeps? Necromantic puppets? Pupilless necromancers? Victims of some kind? More experiments?

But then … then the driver said we were being followed … and the guy goes crazy sobbing and apologising, saying he fucked up, he got us in trouble, and then one of the old chicks is like, get the kid out, and … and they stop the car and there’s another two big trucks pulling up behind us, militia trucks with guys, and…”

Militia trucks? Jeeeeeeeeeez...

“I know what it was. I hang out with you lot. I know the deal. Nobody ever asks poor old Honesty … Honesty could’ve told him not to try and knock off the goddamned Convoy.”

The CONVOY????

The Convoy was mentioned in one of the previous chapters - the rumbling, earthquake-like transport that nobody quite knew what it was.

THIS is what it is????

I have so many questions but mostly I'm just fucking baffled that the petty criminals Honesty was working with don't know about the Convoy. It must be somewhat common knowledge where they live, right?

Right?

... Yikes.

[yan-snowcave]

First impression gone wrong

Transcript of all the speech bubbles can be found below the "Read More"

[Phew, this took 3-4 days of non-stop drawing to finish it, tbh I'm happy with how it came out! Especially since I rarely draw humans so it was a good, fun exercise and now I can work on other stuff for my OC (and Milo's 3 other forms ;3c) & other projects! (Also taking a lil break from drawing to let my hands rest.) And thanks to everyone who drew Makura, I promise I will try and draw your OC's and others too! They all look amazing just give me some time please TwT Also my handwriting isn't the best sorry!]

Transcript;

[Page 1]

Seth: Who's this? Milo...A new boytoy? Or...

[Seth's POV]

Makura: You signed the Contract Milo <3

You're MINE

I will "eat" you~

(I'm sorry but, I have to reveal the truth)

Seth: Maku's a demon!

---------------------------------------------

[Page 2]

Desmond: Seriously? This again? This is the third time this week...

Valli: Seth...

Makura: ...Ash will beat my ass, fuck

Milo: Huh?

Seth: You see in the book Demonolgy (volume 3) it's explained that most demons form contracts with mortals to obtain their soul to devour later on in exchange the mortal gets whatever they want.

It's also very important that the soul is that of a virgin or that they are an innocent or naive person with a pure soul like Milo. Unlike, let's say...Ryan who has a corrupted soul, which explains why he's still alive and kickin. Not to mentione that we never saw Makura without their hood-mask off. Not even during lectures and we know how the teachers are. They dont allow us to wear any hats or hoods, which means that Makura has to have some sort of demonic manipulation powers. Maybe they can even shape and change the universe to whatever they desire. And we dont even need to mentione the students who don't approach them almost out of instinct and we all know thats a clear sign of an Demonic Aura.

---------------------------------------------

[Page 3]

Seth: I have to confess I'm a bit jealous but also very proud of Milo. As a fellow monster lover, even if he stumbled into this relationship on accident. I will give him kudos for getting such a big catch! Getting a demon partner isn't easy.

I tried and failed so many times. Some were already taken and I'm no home wrecker for fellow monster lovers. We have to stick toghether y'know? No one else would understand the struggle of dating someone thats a non-human and even those with open minds often think our partners are crazy or just playing a demon which is rather rude.

But you cant do much about it. Also if you want to start courting them then you have to be very carefull. Demonic courting isnt for the faint of heart and will often force you to get gifts that many people would see as strange or disgusting. Also be carefull if you go further in your relationship, their claws, teeth and salavia can be harmfull to us mortals, not to mentione that lu-

Desmond: Seth!! For gods sake, stop with this NONESENSE! Makura isnt a demon, they have no demonic traits. They are just a cringey furry, wanna be pastel goth! That's KNOWN for their agressive behaviour!

Seth: I'm just giving Milo some much needed advice and warnings!

---------------------------------------------

[Page 4]

Milo: My prince!

Valli: Seth! Desmond!! Stop it right now or I WILL kick your asses!

[idsb]

in 2019 in one of my finest Peak Depression moments, I was stalking his Spotify history - in my mind it would make me feel something. Put me inside the brain of a person who was inevitably going to forget me. It might make the moment last forever if I could find new ways to dwell on it.

In the midst of that, I found a band whose songs I recognized. Who must have been played on that road trip more than a few times. I mentally bookmarked it when I first heard it; it was the kind of indie with a lot of distortion and I couldn't figure out any of the lyrics and it wasn't music I could cry to, and I knew it'd take a while for it to grow on me. About a month later, I'd cycled through ruminating over everything else. I spent a day sitting in bed staring at the ceiling, and then sitting on the floor staring at the wall, with an album called In My Own Pool Of Light by Holy Holy playing on a loop. It came out the week before I'd landed. Somehow that connected me to it more, as if anything that had EVER seen Australia in August of 2019 had an air of magic to it: they were there, too. It had to have been real.

Flight was the song I'd recognized. I played it over and over and over. Burned it and burned it and BURNED it into my mind. Maybe if I played it I'd remember something else, something I needed when I'd already remembered every detail to death. I never did remember something else. But I was right, the album was a grower. And slowly, but surely, it became my favorite album of all time. A fantastical moment in time. That album is a work of art as much as a piece of indie music can be. It's been 5 years and I still am discovering new meanings to it and depth to the lyrics. It's complex and it's catchy and it's perfect. It has the greatest 3 song run of any album I have ever heard (so much so that every show they play all 3 songs live in succession / attached to one another, because everyone else knows it, too). Portions of this album touched on my sadness, portions of it touched on my hope, portions of it touch on the concept of the most casually perfect person you'd ever met having no idea how good they are. There's also a song about immigrants and book burning and also a song about Frieda Kahlo and also a song about a city that's been burned to the ground so it really has got it ALL. There was a piece of every emotion I felt that entire year embedded in that album, and it never got old. I listen to it all the time. The whole album has been on every playlist I've ever made since 2019. No one, not even Taylor, is immune from me having to retire some of their music because it's gotten old. This album is embedded in my brain and it's everything to me, it's never stopped being everything to me. But no one in America had ever even heard of them, or ever would: they're very much an Australia only band, and not a chance in hell would they ever try to tour the US. Everyone I played their song Faces to loved it. But no one had heard of them. They were just mine. They existed only within Spotify. I held them as tightly to my heart and my mind as anyone could hold anything. I love that album, and that album and its closeness to me and no one else I've ever met AND that situation makes it as sacred a thing to me as anything can be. That album is the memento of that situation in my heart: the old t-shirt I still wear, the only faded photo that has not come off the wall. That album is an old friend that's seen me at my worst but is still there for a good night dancing or a roadtrip or a walk down memory lane. Because independent of it all, I just LOVE it.

Well. Tonight I saw Holy Holy, and most of that album, live, and it was the most out of body experience of my fucking life. I started pretty much hyperventilating with happiness when they played the first song from In My Own Pool Of Light - the one about the most casually perfect person you'd ever met having no idea how good they are. Screaming along to his song, in his city. Except it's my song, and it's my city. And suddenly everything felt like it was in place: closure like wings I could fly away on. I came back. And I saw him. And I saw the Taylor Swift album that sounded like driving across Australia thinking of him. And, finally, I saw the sad, the aftermath, the lonely January New York City bedroom, full depression takeover, full rumination mode, full self destruction, peak hopelessness, begging for music to teleport me back to Australia in the form of this album. I saw every drive I’ve taken since and I saw healing and I watched a piece of me that only existed in my mind and in my car alone come to life. Live, in Australia. Front row. For me, with a smile on my face. Thinking of him, but not Thinking Of Him. Letting it go. Everything zoomed in and back out again within a fraction of a second, and it meant everything and nothing and everything again. And now, somehow, every phase of the whole thing has closure. I never want to forget how happy I was at that show and in that moment. I felt like air. Their songs felt like air. Like life.

5 years. Mission completed. Case closed. Book published.

I did it.

[sweetfirebird]

Christmas Shit

The next of the Christmas charity prompts. @orbisonblue generously donated and asked for some Jimmy and Javier from From Better or Worse.

Content tags: some mention of Jimmy's (absent) awful, homophobic family, complete with how they think/talk about gay stuff as well as Jimmy. This is futurefic, so I guess book spoilers.

All characters are mine blah blah.

Christmas Shit

Javier let himself into Jimmy’s place through the back door like always, narrowly avoiding Baci as she bolted outside to chase leaves, one of the bags in his arms smacking into the wall hard enough to make him freeze and listen for any glass breaking. But he forgot the spun glass white egret intended as a Christmas present for Peyo to put in the yard that was now possibly shattered into a thousand pieces, because Jimmy sprang up from where he’d been lying on the couch and flailed around until he found the remote.

He waved it at the TV while forcefully pressing buttons, probably intending to turn it off but only pausing the screen. Javier glanced at the image of several white people in period costumes lined up opposite each other for what he assumed was a dance, then faced Jimmy, who was staring at him with eyes a little too wide. As though Javier had just walked in on him watching porn—no, Javier had walked in on him watching porn and also had watched some with him, so this was something else.

He realized what only a second after his first thought. Trust Jimmy to still have hangups about doing anything that might be considered ‘weak’ or ‘gay’ where anyone in his family might see.

Javier was not someone who raged or held grudges, but he had a collection of things he was waiting for a chance to say to the Rizzo family if he ever met them.

Not that he ever would. That was why Jimmy was out here, and why he volunteered to work on every holiday, and probably why he’d made up reasons to not go to Christmas shopping at the mall in Riverton with Javier and Peyo today.

“You’re home earlier than I expected,” Jimmy said, almost breathless. He was not looking back at the TV screen. Javier couldn’t let him go on being nervous, even though if he waited, Jimmy would remember on his own that Javier was one of his asshole relations back in the Midwest who would insist something like that was for fags.

But Javier didn’t feel like letting Jimmy suffer even for another second. “Is that Pride and Prejudice?” He calmly closed the door behind him; Baci would let them know when she wanted back inside.

“I don’t know,” Jimmy answered immediately, then seemed to realize how childish he sounded and frowned at the couch for a moment. “I guess,” he amended. “Probably.”

Javier gentled his voice but made his point anyway. “Everyone knows who Colin Firth is. Because of that thing.” Jimmy set his jaw as though he had an argument he wasn’t going to make, so Javier added, “and that Bridget Jones or whatever.” And then, because it would make Jimmy’s relatives squirm, “And Mamma Mia.”

“Rhonda loves that movie. Fuck you. She put it on when I was over there.” This was muttered, but at least Jimmy was starting to look less squirrely.

Tiny’s wife did love Mamma Mia. But Javier suspected that Jimmy’s opera-loving ass was fond of it too, and would probably enjoy more musicals if given the chance.

Javier left that unsaid. “You can keep watching. I’m going to go stash this stuff in the bedroom.”

It was not, technically, his bedroom, or even their bedroom. Not on the lease anyway. Javier still had his bedroom in Peyo’s house next door. But when he’d told Jimmy he’d be hiding presents in their bedroom, Jimmy hadn’t objected. He’d even cleared out space in the closet.

“Nah, I don’t need to watch the rest, it’s okay,” Jimmy denied anyway.

Javier studied him without moving, letting shopping bag handles dig into his arms. He stared until Jimmy fidgeted and said, “What? It’s fine. I don’t need to keep watching.”

Then Javier just said, very softly, “It’s okay if you’d rather watch it by yourself. But I wouldn’t spoil it for you if you let me join you. I’ve never seen it. Just that other one.”  

Jimmy put his head back like this was an unexpected blow. “You saw that one?”

Javier nodded. “In the station believe it or not. And no, it was not me or Scotty who put it on. Hmm. I did read one of her books, Austen’s I mean, in college, but not this one. So definitely no spoilers from me.”  

“Oh.” Jimmy shifted from foot to foot once, restless or indecisive. “I didn’t put this on either. But it came on.”

“And it was so good that you stopped what you were doing to watch?” Javier couldn’t help his smile or the teasing, but getting Jimmy to forget his fight-or-flight reactions to these things always felt good. Like a reward or a gift shared between the two of them. But he didn’t push the teasing despite how he probably could have now. “You want something to eat? I can do that next and bring it to you while you watch.”

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, but then dipped one shoulder, looking so adorably bashful and fierce at the same time that Javier hid a sigh. “Yeah. Thanks. You don’t have to, but thanks. I… you can join me, if you want. I can start over.”

“I’m not going to make you do that.” Javier wouldn’t have anyway, but also he vaguely thought that version was long and he had already worn himself out with the drive to Riverton and then shopping, and was probably going to take a nap even if he tried not to. It wasn’t worth it to start it all over for him now. “But you could fill me in while I make us some sandwiches?”

Jimmy wiped the amazed look off his face quickly, but Javier still caught it. He didn’t comment, though. He went to the bedroom, then came into the kitchen to wash his hands and get out what was left of the roast they’d made the other day and every condiment within reach.

“You want me to make you some coffee?” Jimmy asked from the kitchen doorway, watching Javier with his hands in his pockets, somehow still looking bashful and fierce. He accepted that Javier wasn’t going to laugh at him or mock him, but was unable to quite shake old fears. “You look tired. The old man drive you crazy today?”

“Tempting,” Javier admitted. “But I had two coffees at the mall already.”

He was focused on slicing bread and so didn’t realize Jimmy had moved. He put down the knife to reach for some onion and felt Jimmy’s breath on the back of his neck a second before Jimmy wrapped an arm around him. 

“Thank you.”

Javier didn’t think Jimmy was talking about the food with that soft, sweet whisper, although it was just possible. He turned until he could press a quick kiss to the side of Jimmy’s face. Jimmy’s cheek was hot and held the faint impression of one of the couch cushions, as if he’d been watching Pride and Prejudice with his face smushed against a pillow.

Javier kissed him again. “So, what were you watching before to make the channel suggest this?”

It got him a whine and more grumbling. “Javi.”

“It’s just a question,” Javier answered with innocence that might have seemed false to Jimmy, because he sighed deeply.

Then, without meeting Javier’s eye, said, “I wanted something Christmas that wasn’t anything I used to watch with them.”

Them being all the Rizzos except his ex-wife, who was a Rizzo by marriage-of-convenience and so didn’t really count as a Rizzo to Javier. Not like the rest of those assholes. She had sent them a Christmas card.

Javier held all those thoughts in, waiting for Jimmy to continue to explain, which he would if he wanted to.

Which he must have, because he angled his face to keep his gaze away but ask for another kiss, and then muttered, clearly embarrassed, “So a few years ago, I got in the habit of watching those holiday rom coms. The bad ones.”

“The bad ones?” Javier echoed, mostly because his impression of those Hallmark TV movies was that they were all bad.

Jimmy gave a tight shrug. “You know, the ones with the city girls, and the small towns covered in Christmas shit that nobody in their right mind fucking does. Like not even people who live in towns with Christmas tourism go that fucking nuts for it. But… they’ve got the colors and everything, and snow in ‘em a lot of the time and it don’t snow here. And they’ve almost always got really welcoming families in those insane Christmas towns and I…”

He stopped, abruptly and obviously.

“Ah.” Javier grabbed Jimmy by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him closer until their eyes met.

“Aw, Javi,” Jimmy whined again, but apparently for a different reason. “Now, I gotta kiss you. It ain’t fair.”

Javier didn’t have time to get offended. Jimmy put hands on either side of his face and kissed him, slow and careful, without the hunger Javier had been expecting. He pulled back, then came in again to offer Javier another, even softer kiss, before saying, “You didn’t get out the good mustard.”

“Sorry,” Javier answered automatically.

Jimmy bobbed his head, cheered by food and the preparation of it, or the kiss, or being in the kitchen with Javier, which he had said many times was his favorite place to be “in the whole goddamn world.” He went to the fridge himself for the mustard, leaving Javier to watch him and shiver and think about what was left of the afternoon.

He cleared his throat. “We can eat, and I’ll tell you all about Peyo ditching me at the mall for a date,” or a hookup, “with his current old lady romantic partner.” It made Jimmy snort a laugh, so Javier continued. “Then, if you want, we can go back to your movie. Or wrap presents. Or and wrap presents, if you want. Whatever you want, Jimmy.” Javier had just heard enough carols in the mall to last him until next Christmas, but, “We could even listen to carols. There’s sure be a playlist somewhere. Whatever you want. I mean it.”

“I do not want carols,” Jimmy huffed. He went stiff, then relaxed. Not completely, but enough. “It’s a tough time of year for people like me. That’s all.”

Javier forced himself to turn back the counter so Jimmy wouldn’t have to keep inventing reasons to go hide his face in the fridge. “I know, baby.”

That was said just to hear the grumbled, “Fucking baby, he says. Il mio coure.” Jimmy closed the refrigerator door, though, then paused. “You need anything else for these?”

Javier made his voice overly sweet. “Peppers if you want them, baby.”

He got a pissy look for it, but Jimmy did go back into the fridge for the jar. He put it on the counter. “How about a tea if not coffee, huh?” he offered. Then, while fussing with the kettle said over his shoulder, as if it were no big deal, “So—there is this family that has all daughters, okay? Like five of ‘em and none of them are married.”

“Okay,” Javier agreed, and hid his smile.   

[redheartshapedsunglassesxoxo]

the last between us

a/n: I never wrote anything for Ellie, and I also haven't written anything for like a year so this might suck.

"Y/N, wake up, you got patrol!" someone said knocking on my door. I looked at the alarm clock that was sitting on my bedside table. Shit. I forgot to set my alarm. Last night's events were still bugging me. I closed my eyes and remembered what happened. I was reading one of the books Ellie got me when we were together. I was reading until I was stopped by a knock on my door. I got up and opened the door. "Yes?" I couldn't see them at first because it was dark, but as they slowly came towards the light, I noticed who it was. It was Ellie. She was wearing her grey hoodie, sweats that hung at her hip, a raggedy jacket, and her classic Chucks. "Uhm, can I come in?" She spoke. I nodded slowly and moved to the side to allow her inside. "Look, I'm sorry, Dina needed me yesterday; she broke up with Jesse, and you know how she feels." "I don't care about that; the problem is that you called me clingy," I said. "That's a lie; you always want to hang out with everyone except me. That's why I called you clingy." Ellie said. "What? That doesn't even make sense now. You're just trying to cause an argument that isn't even there. I took a slight pause until I finally said, "You know what, get the fuck out of my house." "I don't want to deal with you right now." I opened my eyes, shaking my head, trying to forget about what happened. I got up and started to walk toward my closet. I picked up a tank top, a flannel, and jeans. I grabbed my coat from the hangar and walked out of my door. I'm greeted by the face of Maria, who was waiting outside my door. "Mars, she woke up with a cold; you're going to be paired with Ellie today." "What? "Is there no one else I can be paired with?" I spoke. "Ellie and you make a great team, but it's only for one day," Maria said, then she walked off. This is going to be the end of me. I'm not sure if Ellie knows, so I walked to Ellie's home. I knocked on her door. It took her a while to answer, but when she answered, she looked hot. "Damm copycat?" She spoke. She was wearing a flannel and jeans too. And she was wearing that same raggedy jacket from last night; it instantly brought me back. I rolled my eyes at that response. "Fuck off, Maria told me that we are partners just for today, so let's get over it." She chuckled at what I said. While we were on patrol, we were sitting under a tree. There was nothing to do; it was boring and made the time go so slowly. I just want to get over this. Ellie interrupted the awkward silence we had between us, asking, "So are we going to talk about last night?" "Nope," I said, popping the "p" and looking in the other direction. "Look, I'm sorry, ok?" I stared at her once she said that. Her expression was full of sadness and desperation. Yet her eyes were still as beautiful as ever. I miss her. I miss the times we would just goof around during patrol. I miss it when we would cuddle. I miss when she would talk about the things she loved like her comics. I miss her. Fuck it, I'm going to tell her. "I miss you so much." Tears were slowly welling up in my eyes. She must have noticed because as soon as I said it, she wrapped her arms around my body. I start to cry. "Shh, it's okay." She said this as she caressed my hair with her hands. "I'm sorry for looking too much into it; I love you so much," I said, Still crying. "I love you too, babe; I'm sorry for calling you clingy." I don't deserve her; she's so forgiving, while I'm so stubborn. I looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks with both of my hands, bringing her lips toward mine.