#but i think this will be better long term

[ruyakasunshine]

F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is

note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!

This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.

20. Fernando

Grandpa. Need I to say more?

19. Checo

In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.

18. K-mag

I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.

17. Nico Hulk

Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.

16. Valterri

I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.

15. Lance

I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.

14. Carlos

I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.

13. Max

He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.

12. Yuki

I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.

11. Zhou

Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.

10. Franco

Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.

9. Liam

I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.

8. Esteban

He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.

7. Lewis

Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive for— that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.

There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?

6. George

He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.

If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.

5. Pierre

He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.

4. Alex

Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.

3. Charles

The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.

2. Lando

Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.

1. Oscar

Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.

He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)

For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.

[mrsriddlenott]

okay I just need pussydrunk mattheo 🥵

It is honestly embarrassing how long this has been in my drafts unfinished(literally a few days over a year🤦‍♀️) I have been awol for so long but I have been GOIN through it y’all. I think I can finally at least try and actually come back to this blog. I love writing so much and I hate when it just isn’t fun anymore. And when I saw this I actually got excited to finish it so let’s see how it goes. Please correct mistakes and give feedback

Warnings: suggestive content but not actually full smut, public oral(f!receiving), heavy petting, play argument/kinda roleplay, some teasing.

{masterlist}

~Needy~

To plenty of people having a needy boyfriend would be the end of the world. But when that boyfriend is Mattheo Riddle, who seems to have an unnaturally high labido and stamina, it’s more of a pro rather than a con.

But what comes with needy is clingy. Mattheo just needs his hands on you whenever he can. You weren’t complaining but he certainly was. There was just too much time out of the day that he couldn’t touch you. So me made sure to cut thay time down as much as he could.

“Come oooon Baby” Mattheo groaned as he tugged you towards an empty, shadow filled corridor, “Just think about it, how many days a week do we have Potions, and how many weeks are in a term, how many terms in a school year….we can miss one hour of Potions Baby it’ll be fine. Plus you’re the smartest, prettiest, hottest person at this school you’ve got options for you future.”

“Um first of all,” You start, crossing your arms across your chest, poking your hip out to make Mattheo groan out loud as he restrains himself from touching you, “This will be the fourth time we missed Potions so far this term, and second of all who said I was worried for my future, nuh uh Baby I’m worried about yours.”

“Merlin you’re sexy when you’re being all bossy”Mattheo sighs, stepping closer to you and fanning your face with his breath, “I don’t care about my future as long as you’re in it, I need to keep you excited don’t I Princess?” He laughs out as he watches your resolve melt away, moving his hand up to grip your waste.

“That’s no fair.” You pout, desperately trying to hold a straight face as you continue, “You know you’re not allowed to call me Princess in an argument, you always win with that.” Mattheo sighs dramatically and steps even closer to you, breathing your air as he holds your hip tightly, tugging you into him aggressively.

“I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me,” He begs dramatically, smiling before dipping his head into the crook beside your shoulder to trace small pecks across your collarbone, forcing a moan to slip past your lips despite your pretend protests.

“How could I ever forgive you for such a lapse Mattheo,” you smile at how fast he halts his mouths assault of your collarbone giving you time to slip your fingers into his raven curls, giving them a tug to force his eyes up to yours, “You know, I can think of something you can do to earn my forgiveness.”

“What?” He rasps out, his breath caught in his chest at the feeling of your hand in his hair and the other slowly slipping down his chest at an agonizing pace, “What can I do to make you feel better Baby, I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” His voice his breathy and desperate, sending heat down your abdomen as your thighs squeeze together subconsciously. At the gentle shove to his shoulder, Mattheo knew exactly what you wanted, smirking as you looked down to him where he leant into you with those pretend innocent eyes. Mattheo fell to his knees immediately, his hands tracing their way under your skirt while his eyes stay on yours.

“Is this what you’re asking for…Princess?” Mattheo asks, smirking as he gains dominance from below you, “You want me to make you feel good?….But Baby what about Potions, we-we can’t miss class i-it’s impo-“ You cut off his teasing with a tug to his hair and small sigh at the feeling of his hand ghosting across your underwear. Mattheo groans, his eyes falling into the back of his head as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“Okay okay, I’ve got you Princess.” He laughs breathlessly as his fingers tug your underwear down your legs, allowing you to step out of them before he shoves them in his pocket with a wink. In a flash Mattheo has his lips on you, his head vanishing under your skirt, his hand trailing upward to squeeze at your chest through your button up, the other gripping your thigh to give you support as you begin to wobble.

“Oh fuck Mattheo,” You moan loudly before clamping your hand over your mouth, almost forgetting your very public location at the feeling of Mattheo’s tongue meticulously swirling around your clit. His chuckle from below almost pisses you off enough to fight for dominance but as though to wipe your mind of it, Mattheo flattens his tongue and leaves a strip up your heat, making you whimper into your hand and bite your skin to prevent getting caught.

You shake as Mattheo’s fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh while it wobbles, unsteady as you begin to lose balance at the fast pace of Mattheo’s tongue, “Fuck Baby, can you stand or do I need to hold you?” He chuckles against you at your whine of protest, not wanting him to stop even for a second. Mattheo quickly tugs your thigh over his shoulder, allowing him to gain more access, speeding up his actions, moaning at your taste and the thought of you coming on his face as you depend on him to hold you steady. Your head falls back against the stone wall, your eyes rolling backward as your hand falls to his shoulders for balance not caring anymore about your volume. Your little whimpers and squeaks drive him insane below you, he knows your close, he can feel it.

Without warning Mattheo shifts lower, shoving his tongue into you, lowering his hand from your chest in a flash and using his thumb to stimulate your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you, matching his own pace and groaning as he feels your legs begin to shake for him. Your moans become screams as you release on his tongue, falling into his hold while he rises to look at your post-orgasm face he loves so much.

“Good thing we did this during class, someone might have heard otherwise.” Mattheo says simply with a laugh as you weakly smack at his broad shoulder.

~~~~

Pretty short compared to others I have but I just really wanted to start posting again. I’m probably gonna be cleaning out my drafts and trying to get them out even old ones ppl probably aren’t waiting on anymore to try and get back into a groove on here.

[cuubism]

Dreamling idea:

Randomly had a thought about the Endless being a family that is essentially dying out. However the parents are determined to have heirs even if it means selling their children into unwanted marriages or possibly short term “engagements”. Of course this becomes complicated with each of the children having various aspects that make them unsuitable (or in a few cases they vanish in the night to escape). Ultimately their hopes all rest on Dream.

He, though, is NOT having it. He’d recently met an older man - he has money but not the “right kind” aka ill gotten wealth. He isn’t from their class and, worst of all, he doesn’t seem interested in children. Obviously not a match, as far as the Endless parents are concerned.

However there IS a prospect in a nearby town.

Dream tries to run but unfortunately precautions were taken and he is locked away to await his fate.

Meanwhile, Hob waits for him at the tavern where they promised to meet.

And waits…

I had a particular scene in my head of Dream fighting with his mother over her demands only to be silenced by her slapping his face.

oh yeah. dream and his illicit older criminal fiance. his parents won't be pleased. that's what you get when you treat your kids like possessions though. rebellion...

--

Hob is waiting for him. Hob, beloved Hob, who like a fairy tale prince, or perhaps a fairy tale bandit, has promised to take Dream away from all this, steal him from his locked carriage and whisk him away into the night. Hob is waiting for him.

And Dream is faced with a locked door.

He yanks again on his bedroom door. It's locked from the outside. How had they known? He'd given no indication he intended to go out tonight. Or that he'd been going out at all. Death had even been covering for him, lying to their parents about Dream's whereabouts and acquaintances. And yet.

He yanks on the door for a fourth time, increasingly frustrated, and this time it swings open--but not of his doing. His mother stands on the other side, holding the key.

"No more of that," she says. Dream takes a step back as she steps into the room. "Sit down, Dream."

Dream has never been a particularly rebellious child. But even those who truly want to follow the rules can be pushed to their limits when the rules become too unfair. "No," he says, and it's only thinking of Hob that keeps his voice strong. "I am leaving, Mother."

She stares at him incredulously. "Leaving? To run off with that-- that man?" She sounds like she wants to use a far ruder word, but good breeding holds her tongue. "No. I think not. What, precisely, do you think that man wants with you, Dream? A proper spouse? You think he won't simply use and discard you?"

"It's my well-being you care about?" Dream says, disbelieving. "If you cared so much for that, or for Hob's age or the quality of his wealth you would not be bringing me suitors like Roderick Burgess."

"At least Burgess comes from a good family. Gadling is a common criminal."

"Don't speak of him that way!" Dream says, raising his voice against his mother for the first time he can remember. "Hob has been better to me than all of you."

His mother steps forward and slaps him across the face. Dream reels back, clutching his cheek, as she says. "You won't say such things against this family. You will stay here until we find someone suitable to take you."

With that she leaves again, locking the door behind her.

Dream sits down hard on the edge of his bed, still holding his face. For all that his parents have often been domineering, neither of them has ever struck him before. Such are the consequences of speaking his mind. Of pursuing what he wants.

He sits there for a long time, despondent. He wants to see Hob. But Hob will think Dream changed his mind, when Dream doesn't show up. Will think Dream abandoned him.

Dream wraps his arms around his knees, rocking himself back and forth. His mother is wrong about Hob. Hob is good to him. He treats Dream kindly, and listens to Dream talk about his interests when none of his family ever seem to care, and he is so handsome, has taught Dream the pleasure of being looked at as though he is something to truly desire--not as a prize or possession, like the suitors his mother picks out so often look at him, but as a sexual being deserving to want and be wanted. And he brings Dream to such heights of pleasure in his bed, when they meet.

He is still wallowing in his misfortune, feeling very pathetic indeed, when a crack comes at his window, and then the exterior lock breaks.

Dream startles, backing away, as the window swings open with a creak. Hob is there, leaning over the sill, out of breath from, apparently, climbing up the wall. "Hey, darling," he says.

A common criminal, Dream thinks, lips tugging up in a fond smile.

"You didn't come to our meeting point," Hob continues, hefting himself up and over the windowsill.

"So you came to me?" Dream asks.

"Couldn't let you get away that easy." He steps in close, taking Dream's face between his hands. Dream leans into him, clutching at Hob's shirt, as Hob's gaze searches his. He smiles, craftily, at what he sees there. "Still want to be stolen away?"

"Please."

Hob takes his hand. Kisses his knuckles. Dream doesn't look back at his room as Hob helps him over the windowsill, keeps him steady as they climb down the wall and land in the garden, where Hob catches him in the cradle of his arms.

"Not a very auspicious start for a marriage," Hob says, grinning. "Didn't even get it blessed by a priest or anything."

Dream surges up to kiss him, almost knocking Hob off-balance, and Hob laughs, kissing him back, arms tight around his waist. Then he takes Dream's hand again.

"Come on, my sweet, I promised you adventure." And hands gripped tight, he leads Dream off into the night.

[rosiewitchescottage]

In the moment it's annoying, certainly.

But in the long term. I think it looks a lot better.

Rather than one huge satisfaction of all bad habits overcome at once.

We get to have lots of little satisfactions over time.

It’s annoying but the way you improve yourself is one tiny thing at a time

[bunnieswithknives]

I love reading the comments on my most recent nature AU comic, genuinely the light of my day 💕💕💕

[literallynathandrake]

So She Lost

The 2024 election and how to make things better

We did our best folks, we voted. We canvassed and phone banked and fundraised and bullied the president into dropping out of the race. But we lost. We cannot change that, and the sooner you accept that then sooner you can begin to feel better.

Take a week, a month, till the inauguration, however long to come to terms with what happened. You're feeling grief and grief takes time to process.

But a lost election does not mean you will die.

Your life, if I had to guess, will become materially worse. If you're queer and in a red state start saving up. If you're trans get those name and gender changes in. If you're undocumented, or related to someone undocumented, get your shit gathered.

I can't guide you through everything but I can tell you now that your life is not over, and even if it will suck absolute shit, it will get better over time. You'll graduate, get a promotion, find a partner (or find some garlic bread if you're not into the whole relationship thing), see friends, watch movies, read books, watch a sunset. There will still be good things, and it is important that we appreciate these good things especially when things start to suck.

We can't make any calls on how bad the next four years will be but I can say this, fascist governments can't last forever. They're a fire that gets lit and burns itself out. Some fires are big and destroy a lot of things, sometimes they can be contained, sometimes they burn longer than you'd like.

But they do burn out, especially when people contain it and help control it.

Find local organizations that advocate for the one thing you care most about. Trans rights, abortion, Gaza, homelessness. Go to join them, work with them, and recruit for them.

If you can't find these orgs, get a friend and do it yourself. If you can't find a friend, make one. Do not ever think you are helpless, you are a member of your community and with enough work you can work to change it. Even if no one listens to you, you are there making a statement and that means that you are not silent.

As online as I am I think I'm going to wane off it. It does nothing for me, outside of wasting my time and laugh at funny jpegs. It's important that we remember that the Internet is not real life, as much as it may seem.

Also, and I don't care if you're an anarchist, socialist, communist, third worldist, neo-Trotskyite. You're a bleeding heart liberal now. Keep your social positions, but leftism can't get done now. You love Joe Biden, you loved Hillary, you were ok with Bernie. Work within this framework until it becomes politically viable to do anything else.

Sleep, we all need it, and drink water. Take your medicine if you have any. Maybe go for a walk in the morning. You're not screwed yet, make the most of it

[crescenthistory]

10 people i’d like to get to know better<3

tagged by the lovely @rodyassock on my main account, mwah👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

last song you listened to: sour breath by julien baker

favourite colour: i’ve always been a blue girlie up until two years ago when i embraced green and now it's all i wear

last book i finished: “trials of nation making: liberalism, race, and ethnicity in the andes, 1810-1910” for my uni book review 🥲 & i'm constantly rereading my favourite passages of my favourite novel “oranges are not the only fruit” by jeanette winterson

last show i watched: taskmaster uk lol

sweet/salty/savoury: for enjoyment sweet, for medical purposes salty (POTS gang rise up)

relationship status: long-term partnership with my best friend 🤍 (legally shes my wife bc of benefits so i love to call her that, but we prefer 'partnership' as a label because it's beautiful)

most recent google search: violet beauregarde (halloween costume)

current obsession: marauders era in general, this week i’ve mostly been thinking about rem

looking forward to: finishing my book review tonight so i can breathe

tagging (no pressure):

@regkitblack @hyunielover @soleilfool @poetichibiscus @gl1tterc0rpse @butt3rnugg3t @m00nkissedlover @honeyssweetened @rosieswriting @helens3amstuff @alwaysanundertone & anyone else who wants to play 🤍🤍

[joltik-is-a-smol-bean]

fist things first there will be alot of dividers separating these questions they can all be found Here

This gets long so questions are under the cut!

TWs FOR MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND MEATS!

how many _types do you have?

1 if you only count Vampire, 3 if you count the Werebat paratype and Coyotehearted

when was your awakening? & for how long do you know about your identity?

Vampire back in 2013, Coyotehearted in 2020, Werebat October this year lol

is your _type real or fictional?

Coyote is real obviously, Werebat is fictional, vampire is kind of both as a Sanguinarian I elaborate more on that over on my main blog @sangaverage mostly under

#Irl vampire or #Actually vampiric

do you enjoy being a […] (Just put your label here)

Yes actually! Sorry that answer is so short lol

what's the reason of your identity? You can say that you don't know.

Coyotehearted is because I have such a connection with them! They are fairly misunderstood creatures with such rebellious attitudes and malicious compliance towards humanity it's hard not to love them for it!

Werebat Paratype connects with my vampiric identity I get alot of bat wings in my meditations and other spiritual stuff so I equated the two.

Vampire is because I am a Sanguinarian, Basically an unknown condition that makes us need blood to feel better, the widley considered theory is because there is something in the blood that our bodies have trouble producing on its own, hence the use of the word Vampire, that's a rather simple explanation but again it'll be over on the main blog so I won't go too much into it here!

are you also a part of the LGBT+ community? & does your _type have a different gender/sex than you? Do you even know your _type's gender?

Yep I'm Demisexual and recently questioning pansexual because at the end of the day for me it doesn't matter what you identify as or your orientation is, so long as it's legal, if love/attraction happens then whatever it happens! It just takes a little extra time and a personal connection to get there lol.

All is the same gender/ sex as me

do you think that you were born with your identity or has it "started" during your life?

Vampire is at birth for me but I needed to awaken into it, the other two were 'discovered' for lack of a better term

do you experience shifts? If yes, what kind of shifts do you experience most often? & do you own any gear? If yes, what is it?

wings in meditation, fangs just randomly, 'Twoofs/ 'vamping out' when I'm on need of blood/ energy (again more on my main)

Yep, Vampire has fangs A Legacy Ankh and a few other bits of jewellery, coyote has some ears, werebat has nothing yet really...

is your _type more nocturnal or does it prefer daytime, what is your _type's natural territory/home & is your _type an animal?

All are rather nocturnal to varying degrees, all seem to like the forest especially foggy/ at night, coyote and werebat are obviously animal, vampire certainly behaves like it!

what are your beliefs? Does it affect your identity, does your identity affect your everyday life, how? & does your _type affect your diet?

I assume you mean spiritual beliefs? I am a demonolator and eclectic Witchcraft practitioner, I also practice vampire magick due to my Vampiric identity as a Sanguinarian.

I am technically hybrid as I have learned to psychic feed somewhat, but it's not as 'filling'...

I Don't know about everyday life but due to being Sanguinarian I do need to feed on either something bloody or energy every now and again, my feeding average is once or twice monthly! As such this also affects my diet, only to a small degree but things with high heme iron tend to help if I can't have blood/ blood foods.

(disclaimer I do not condone people randomly try blood drinking but as a Sanguinarian it does help me medically somehow, what you do is up to you bit I will not be held responsible/accountable please be safe as I am, all food and 'donations' are thoroughly prepared/tested as to remove/prevent diseases)

do you have alterhuman friends? If yes, in real life or in the internet?

Yep in real life, S/O is wolfhearted and a close friend is either raccoonhearted or racoon Therian they are still questioning.

Alex's alterhuman ask game!

Reblog this post to let others ask you question(s)!

I tried to make this accesible to all alterhumans.

🌈 - how many _types do you have?

🌌 - when was your awakening?

👾 - is your _type real or fictional?

👽 - do you enjoy being a […] (therian, otherkin, ect. Just put your label here)

🧷 - what's the reason of your identity? You can say that you don't know. (Ex. "My theriantrophy is spiritual)

💚 - what are your beliefs? Does it affect your identity?

⚧️ - does your _type have a different gender/sex than you? Do you even know your _type's gender?

🧤 - do you own any gear? If yes, what is it?

🏳️‍🌈 - are you also a part of the LGBT+ community?

🌚 - do you experience shifts? If yes, what kind of shifts do you experience most often?

🌝 - how does your identity affect your everyday life?

💊 - is your _type more nocturnal or does it prefer daytime?

🤖 - for how long do you know about your identity?

🍁 - do you think that you were born with your identity or has it "started" during your life?

🧸 - does your _type affect your diet?

🛍️ - do you have alterhuman friends? If yes, in real life or in the internet?

🍂 - what is your _type's natural territory/home?

😺 - is your _type an animal?

That's all byeeee :3

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | six

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, angst, first real date, discussion of dysfunctional parental relationships, turbulent sibling relationship, joel makes reader cry [not in a mean way], cuddling, terms of endearment [sweetheart, babygirl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.2k series masterlist | part five a/n: it’s about time, huh? (the last part was released about 10 months ago 💀 but i’m back hunni buns. and back to remembering why i love sweet, emotionally intelligent joel

Make it hurt.

Make it hurt.

The words were seared into Joel’s brain. He even saw them etched into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. If only you’d known that the man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching you get ready, had a mind reeling with worry. Instead you, leaning over the sink, carefully applying eyeliner, snuck a glance at him through the mirror and only recognized how absolutely gorgeous he was.

He’d gotten back into his jeans and green flannel, much to your dismay for the want of his bare chest, broad shoulders, and soft stomach. His arms were folded over that now covered chest, shoulder leaning against the jamb, one foot crossed over the other. Despite you having been getting ready for the better part of an hour now, it hardly looked like his patience was waning. All too willing to have nothing more than your presence for as long as you’d have him. Even when you traded in your eyeliner for the tube of mascara and pulled the firm-bristled brush over your lashes, you heard him take a deep breath but it didn’t sound like an argument to the time you were taking to doll up. After all, it was the first time Joel would see you in any amount of makeup designated for him. You chose to forget the night he’d swooped up on your porch, handgun in his waistband, and shooed your pushy date away. Though that night you hadn’t gotten made up for him.

Face painted and ready to get changed, you waltzed past him in the threshold, keen to the fact that he spun slowly to keep you in his eyeline. Even took a couple steps in the direction of your bedroom before you paused and pressed a hand to his chest, insisting he go on and wait in the living room for you. You hadn’t needed help getting dressed since you were a kid. And it wasn’t like you were getting completely dressed up. Joel was in a flannel and jeans. It was all you needed to know he wasn’t taking you to some Michelin rated restaurant. You ventured to guess he’d take you somewhere a tad nicer than a diner, where food that would stick to your bones was served. So you emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later and pulled the door shut behind you until it clicked back on itself. His boots created soft thuds on the hardwood floor where he paced, waiting, anticipating.

All that stopped when you came into view.

You stood, arms held out to the side to show off the long, simple dress you’d thrown on. Something probably better suited for a day of peak summer day-drinking instead of a dinner date night nearing autumn. But you looked up into Joel’s eyes, seeing if you could figure out what he was thinking before he said it, and it wasn’t hard to do so. It was all written on his face. The way those dark brown eyes darted away from your face and down to the dress and the way the fabric flowed around your legs; a slit in the cotton skirt of it showing just the smallest hint and promise of the skin beneath. His jaw hung slack, forgetting to maintain whatever class or politeness he may’ve felt was deserved. And then all he did was shake his head, eyebrows raised, bouncing a curl loose over his forehead. 

“Good?”

“You look…” he shook his head again, advancing upon you with outstretched arms that eventually found purchase at your waist. Fingers dug firmly into it, squeezing. “You look great… beautiful,”

Though you could tell that’s what he thought, hearing him say the word made your heart jump into your throat. He kept ogling, staring, and now up close. Heat rose in your cheeks and you clutched your hands over his biceps gently, urging him back. “Should we get going?”

He nodded and took your cue. A few quick steps toward your front door and he was pulling it open with a protective and secure hand on your lower back as you passed by. It all started to feel very… adolescent. Like he’d picked you up from home, all nerves and anxiety. Like you hadn’t already seen each other naked a handful of times. Like he hadn’t already been informed of the way you seemed to get a little more turned on when he choked you. The way he opened the front door, and then stood by your side, hand still on your back when you descended the porch steps. How you crossed the street together like that, smiling and talking to each other. You weren’t sure if he noticed but you sure did. Noticed that Mrs. Cole was knitting on her front porch when you passed by, and how she stood from that rocking chair and made for the house as quickly as her old bones could take her, calling for her husband. Or the way Kelly… poor Kelly… paused her progress on helping her kid out of his booster seat in the car and stared, having to witness the man she wasn’t a match for, parade down the street with the new neighbor who seemed to be.

That one made you bow your head, trying to avoid not only her gaze, but Joel’s as well. Had your initial resistance to men and relationships been a game? One that the very core of his primal being couldn’t help but want to chase? Had you trapped him here in a false promise that if he caught you and won, there’d be a prize at the end? There was a very obvious and adult way of figuring that out. You could ask him. Talk it out and see what was there. But that would require you to make it real. To say that you were noticing something between you two, and if he noticed that too, which he surely would after you’d brought it up. So you swallowed it and smiled graciously to him as he pulled open the passenger side door of his truck and helped you up into it.

Once you were settled, he closed the door and circled the truck to his side, wasting no time in getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. The truck was in gear in no time, and right as he started off down the street, through the neighborhood, past all the nosy, small-town neighbors, he reached over and placed his hand on your thigh. Wrapping his fingers around it and giving a soft squeeze. You could feel his eyes shifting to you. Back and forth from the road to you; inspecting. And fearing that a conversation you wanted to delay would arise, you kept your gaze out the window. Downtown Austin was coming into view but Joel wasn’t exactly taking the route to get you to it.

“Slide on over here,”

Finally, you looked at him. He was already looking back at the road, but his hand on your thigh tightened and pulled, urging you closer to him. Closer meant he wouldn’t have as good of a view of your face, so you obliged. Moved yourself across the bench and settled in next to him, where his arm released your thigh and migrated up around your shoulders. His hand hung limp just over you.

“Nervous?” He asked and shook you gently. And being met with a questioning expression, he pressed a smile. “You’re kinda quiet,”

“Just thinking,”

“Uh oh,”

You nudged into his side, earning a more authentic smile and even a little chuckle. Foregoing focus on driving for a split second, he pressed his lips against your temple. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

A quick shake of the head was all you were hoping to have to do to dismiss the topic. Tell him? About how it was scaring the hell out of you that despite your best efforts and consciousness, you were somehow becoming dependent on him. Absolutely not.

Joel took a deep breath. He’d caught the shake of your head from the corner of his eye, and with your lack of clarification, his brain – which had already been on a witch hunt of its own – picked back up where it had left off. Only now you weren’t in front of the mirror with things that could be turned into eye weapons. You were just here. Next to him. Curled beneath his arm. And he couldn’t get this convoluted duality to quiet down. The one where part of it was riddled with this gentle caring and acceptance of what this was, and the other part that resulted in him finding his handprint on more than one spot on your body.

“I’ve been thinkin’ too, and I…”

He leaned forward in his seat, glancing out the side view mirror before he veered into the left lane. The silence gave you time to look up at him and study his face. The graying scruff at his jaw nearly meeting the curls that had grown long enough to wrap at his neck. 

“M’not sayin’ I didn’t enjoy it. I think it’s obvious I did,” he cleared his throat, attempting to get the image of you bent over the kitchen counter out of his head. His hand circled the steering wheel, fingers outstretched to make the right hand turn, before circling it back, getting it straight again. “Guess I’m tryna figure it out…” he paused and shook his head, deciding to ask a different way, “did your parents comin’ over have anything to do with… it,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion sweeping through you. And figuring his brain was cannibalizing itself more than yours was, you set your hand in his lap and squeezed his thigh, giving him the permission to continue.

“You askin’ me to make it hurt,” his eyes flicked down at you. All you could do was cower a bit more into his side, but he lost the nerve to keep his eyes on you, and shook his head softly again. “I know you said I did what you asked, but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard and actually hurt you, and…” he cleared his throat again. “If you asked because your parents showed up, and fuckin’ an older guy sorts out daddy issues, I… guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that’s alright if that’s what this is, but I need to know. ‘Cause then you’re saying stuff like you’re mine. And I know that was during sex, and I wouldn’t want to be held accountable for everything I say during sex, but…” He looked back down at you, the realization that he’d gone ranting catching up with him. 

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the drive was over. Truck now sat in a crowded parking lot. The world could look in and get a glimpse of something you’d rather have been doing in private. But Joel removed his arm from around your shoulders so he could turn the keys and pull them out of the ignition. “I can’t be the guy that marks up a woman like that,”

“Joel,”

“Not when she says stuff like she’s mine and… yeah I don’t care if it was just a during-sex thing.” He took a breath and cleared his throat, “so I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that with you again. The really rough stuff. Maybe if you were a one night stand. But you’re not. You’re… you,”

“What’s that mean?”

He glanced at you sideways and pushed his door open, “means we’re on a date. Stay there,” he slid out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind him.

And even if you had been so inclined to move, Joel cut you off by hustling around the front of the truck so he could make it to the passenger-side door first. He tugged on the handle and held the door open for you; his free hand coming down for you to steady yourself on the jump out of the cab. You, however, growing uncomfortable with his honesty, stepped out of the truck by yourself, choosing to forego his help. That was the absolute very least you could do.

If there was any thought or hope that at some point through dinner you’d both snap out of it and return to the chemistry you so obviously had in private, that was squashed by the time the waiter set your plates down in front of you. Conversation had waned – nay, come to a complete stop – and your drinks were the only things keeping your mouths busy.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at the waiter. A quick flick of your eyes to Joel had you seeing that he’d gone straight for his fork and knife, even refusing to say a word to the waiter. Who, also feeling the awkwardness in the air, left your table as fast as humanly possible. 

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Joel all but demanded.

“What do–”

Beautiful, divine providence. That’s all that could be said for the way your phone started vibrating in your purse at that very moment. And under any normal circumstance, you would’ve ignored it completely. But it was a sign from God. A get out of jail free card. Only you did just that – scoured through your purse with your hand in the shape of a ‘search claw’ and rifled around until you felt it buzzing against your fingers. Another quick glance at Joel to find his expression now purely unimpressed, before you looked down at your phone screen. And seeing the name across it, you wished you hadn’t seen it at all. 

Joel noted how you re-hid your phone in your purse by clearing his throat. When it grabbed your attention again, he raised his eyebrows, “talk to me. And don’t say it’s nothin’.” He pushed a forkful of food into his mouth, and just when you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to the punch, “be honest.”

“I’m not just fucking an old man to get over daddy issues, I’m fucking an old man because I like him,” you glared, a little meaner than you thought you’d be.

“Don’t pull punches,” he smiled.

“My mom is weak. My dad’s a steam roller. And I’ve spent my entire life being pitted against my sister in a battle of which one is prettier and which one is smarter. One of us was supposed to find a man to take care of her, and the other was supposed to get a career and take care of herself. Guess which one I am.” You lifted your wine glass to your lips, thankful this place had a somewhat palatable house red. “I asked you to make it hurt because I wanted to feel something. Something that overshadowed the things that their presence evokes in me. And if I’m being completely honest, I asked you to make it hurt because I like you. Because if you hurt me, I mean, really hurt me… even if it’s just in this way, then I can chalk you up as being like every other guy. No good,”

“You–”

“But I fucked up,” you interrupted him and set your wine glass back down. Cocked your head to the side and shook it absently. “Because you didn’t just hurt me like I asked you to. You fucking took care of me after. You ruined my plan,”

“Sorry,” he smirked.

You shook your head again. This time with more intent, “and Kelly saw us walking to your truck. She knows. And it looked like it broke her heart all over again. So I think we should stop doing this and you should give her another chance,”

“What about what I think?”

“Be able to give you the type of relationship you want. I think she’d make you really happy,”

“You make me happy,” he sat back in his chair and pressed a wide smile when that made your eyes return to his fully. “At least you do for now. Think you’re gonna be a pain in my ass in fifteen to twenty years, but maybe I’ll be dead by then,”

“Joel–”

“You know what I think?” He paused for effect but wasn’t actually looking for an answer from you. “I think it’s fucked your parents pitted you against your sister, knowingly or not. I think it’s fucked up that you were made to believe you’re only smart. I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. I think you should stop bein’ so afraid of wanting something. Or someone. And I think you should let me try and get you to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” You exhaled in a way that sounded like a laugh of disbelief. “Good luck,”

He lifted his beer bottle, “don’t think it’ll be too hard. ‘Cause here’s the thing,” he scooted forward in his chair, a smirk growing across his lips as he leaned over the table toward you, “you ain’t never had a man take care of you before, and now you’re gettin’ a taste of it. You don’t know what it’s like to let a man in and let him love you. You won’t let yourself. Hell, you didn’t even know sex was supposed to come with aftercare.”

“Did too,” it dawned on you that you sounded more like a petulant child than a full-fledged adult.

“Yeah, you tryna sneak outta my house after the first time because I was gone a couple minutes… Sweetheart, you don’t even know what love looks like.” He took a sip of his beer, “how could you know something if it was never taught to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and keep the tears you felt burning in your eyes at bay. “What’re you trying to do? Make me feel stupid?”

Joel pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but notice but the best description for the expression he now gave was remorseful. “To you, bein’ stupid must feel like the worst thing you could be, huh?” His eyes searched yours for affirmation to his question and found more than enough of it. “It’s not. And you’re not,” Joel reached forward and took your hand when you tried to grab at your wine glass again. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed them tight, holding on despite you fighting him to pull away. “You’re not stupid,”

“Joel,”

“You hear me? You’re not stupid,”

“Stop it, Joel,” you pleaded, the first tear falling from your eye, trailing a wet line down your cheek.

“You’re not, babygirl,”

Finally you’d manage to pull your hand out of his grasp and raised both to your face, covering your eyes. You wouldn’t let him see you cry; to show your weakness. Your chest bounced and the breath caught in your throat as you tried to stifle your sobs. For the only thing worse than Joel seeing you cry, was the entire restaurant seeing you cry. And you’d either been at it for longer than you thought, or he managed to pay for the bill rather quickly, but either way, the next thing you knew was you were being hauled up to your feet. Joel kept a hand on your elbow and the other on your upper back. His thumb and index finger cradling the base of your neck to guide you safely out of the restaurant despite your head being bowed.

“Almost back at the car, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear.

You figured as much. You’d taken far too many steps to not be back at his truck by this point. Just a few more steps. A few more staggered breaths as calmness still evaded you. Then you were pulled to a halt and Joel reached forward for the door handle. He’d only manage to tug the passenger door open before you were turning into him, standing up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. Your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha, babygirl. I got you,” he kept his arms embraced around you tightly. Squeezed you to his body and kissed your temple in the same moment you pressed your lips to his neck for a kiss. 

He rocked you side to side, almost like what you’d do to a baby to soothe them. And whether it was the motion, or the smell of him, or the feel of his lips on the side of your head while he whispered all the gentle things you’d always wished a man in your life would say…

You’re alright, sweetheart. 

I’m proud of you.

You’re safe.

You’re not stupid.

And all these things that sounded a little bit like I love you.

Your breathing evened out. Lungs filled with fresh air that also smelled like his cologne. Once you lowered yourself from your toes and returned to your normal height, you looked up at him and sniffled. If he could like you looking like this, he could like you anytime. And Joel, always unwavering, pinned a genuine smile to his face when you showed him your face again. He lifted his hands and cupped your cheeks; thumbs wiping away the wet trails your tears had left behind.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, giving him an exaggerated pout.

He shook his head in return, “no, no. You been carryin’ this weight a long time.” He wiped his thumbs over your cheeks again, this time with a nod. “Don’t I look like a big, strong man that can carry some of it?”

You looked up into his eyes, really hoping that what you’d find was yes, he did look like someone to carry some of the weight. You also hoped that if that was indeed what you found, that it wouldn’t scare you away immediately. “Take me home, Joel.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Home.

Such an odd word to use with him.

Home.

What was that? Your house? His house? Either one as long as he was there? Maybe in this state you were just inclined to read too much into your own words. Let fear build in the recesses of your brain and wonder if they’d be the thing that would eventually scare him off. You figured it was just your own mind playing tricks on you. Making you believe the worst before it ever happened, as if to ensure that it would. A self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Joel certainly wasn’t making you feel that way. Not on the entire drive back home. One of his hands on the steering wheel, the other stroking over the back of your head, playing with your hair. Him checking in with you every time a red light stopped your forward progress. Y’alright? And the gentle smile he’d return when you assured him yes. Not when he walked you back up to your front door and waited for you to unlock it. His hand remained on your lower back, his thumb dragging lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. Not when you asked if he’d come in and his answer was an immediate and resolute, of course.

And surely not now when you returned to your bedroom and found him lounging back in your bed in his underwear, ogling you when you walked in in nothing but the green flannel he was wearing earlier. The buttons undone. The fabric undulating against your body. Desire and lust flared up in his eyes as you crawled up on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he cocked his head back, inviting you forward to his lap. 

Legs straddled his waist with ease as if it had been a move you’d been perfecting with him for years. His hands folded to your thighs. Strong fingers wrapped around supple flesh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to stay over tonight.” You glanced to the side where Joel was already staring at you. “I’m exhausted,”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, turning his head straight again, “wasn’t planning on staying. Your bed fucked up my back.”

“My bed’s not the–”

Joel squeezed your thighs once, twice, quickly, “shh, c’mere, I wanna tell you a secret.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and pressed your hands to his chest. “What?”

“Come closer,” he whispered, very nearly forcing you to lean in just to be able to hear him.

So you did. Crowded his personal space and leaned in, very ready to turn your head to the side to get your ear closer to his mouth for this so-called secret. But Joel lifted his hand and took hold of your chin before you could turn it away from him. He held you there, and as your eyes widened in confusion, you noticed how his gaze danced over your face – from your eyes, to your nose, mouth, down to your chin where his grip grew gentler, and all the way back up to your eyes. And you opened your mouth to once again ask what the secret was, but your lips parted and before any noise could slip out, Joel met you the rest of the way. Leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, softly and then all at once. He inhaled deeply and upon releasing your chin, cupped his hand over the side of your face; fingers cradling the back of your head while his thumb stroked over your cheek.

You parted slightly, catching your breath, “that’s a good secret.”

“Got somethin’ else to tell you,” he hummed, not wasting any time in getting you back into a kiss.

You smiled softly against his lips, allowing your tongue to meet his as it searched for entrance into your mouth. Finding it, a gravelly moan escaped his lungs, hung in the air between you for just a moment, until you swallowed it down. Beneath you, you could feel his length growing harder. Joel, too, let you know that he was aware of it. He let out another hum of recognition and reached around you with his free hand, ducking it beneath your ass, and tugged on the fabric of his underwear. 

With another breath, you pulled away from him and set your forehead against his. Eyes pinned downward, focused on your hands on his chest. Fingers dancing over the dusting of hair down the center. “D’you want me to blow you?”

His response was instantaneous. First by shaking his head. Then by the way he leaned in and pecked your lips, and the hand on your cheek drifted down to your shoulder and held you. “No… I–” he rested his head back on the wall behind your bed, “are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry earlier.”

For the second time that night, you opened your mouth to say something. To tell him it was alright. You know he didn’t mean to do that. And for the second time that night, your phone interrupted you. There on the nightstand, the whole thing buzzed. The wood tabletop seemed to accentuate the noise and both you and Joel turned to look at it. You know he saw the name flash across the top. And knew he clocked the way you leaned over to quickly turn the screen black again, sending the call to voicemail. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that tonight either.

“Y’wanna get that?” he prodded gently. But you were quick to shake your head and return to your spot on top of him, taking him into another kiss. He took your shoulder again and eased you back. “Might be important if they keep callin’,”

“It’s just my sister,”

Joel’s eyebrows raised. Eyes widened. The very sister that so much of your inner baggage was tied up with. He didn’t want to press. Didn’t want to urge you to divulge too much and end up in tears again. He knew he was treading choppy water.

“I’ll call her back tomorrow,” you mumbled, sounding less than enthused. Running your fingers through his graying scruff, you tried to ignore the fact that you really would have to call her back tomorrow. “Sure you don’t want me to blow you?”

He shook his head again. More insistent this time. “Just want to cuddle up with you before you kick me out for the night,”

You smiled, almost to yourself as you leaned forward, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek on his chest. Legs straddled his lap, arms wrapped around his torso, You couldn’t have been closer to him if you tried. A yawn torn you, absolutely exhausted from the entire day. The fact that your parents had been there that morning seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nuzzling into Joel, you let out a sigh, “your time tonight’s running short.”

He let out a chuckle, and the next thing you felt was his lips pressing down to the top of your head. A subtle nod of acknowledgment. 

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You woke up due to a shuffling around your bedroom. Squinting into the sunlight that poured in through the window, you spotted Joel pulling his jeans up his legs. He fastened the button and looked in your direction.

“Mornin’,” he looked around, searching for his flannel that you’d thrown off sometime during the night. “I’ve got an early job,”

You nodded and pointed him in the direction of the foot of the bed where you knew he’d find his shirt. “So much for not staying the night,”

He followed your tip and retrieved the garment from off the floor, quickly sliding it on and doing up the buttons, “yeah, my back’s paying for it.” Rounding back to your side of the bed, he bent forward and kissed your forehead, “you wanna come over tonight?”

Foregoing everything but a nod, you let your tired eyes drift back shut. The next thing you felt were his lips on yours, giving a chaste kiss. It almost made you think you could do this every morning for the rest of your life.

Sometime between Joel using the bathroom and leaving the house, you fell back asleep. Taken back to recuperate from the previous day. Looking forward to doing nothing but lounging around and knowing you’d actually have to put in some work today. Two hours later when you woke again, the rest of the neighborhood had too. The sounds of the suburbs seeping in through your old single-paned windows. Note to self, get Joel to replace those with double-paned. 

Rising from bed and starting your morning routine, you noted all the other things around the house you’d have to ask Joel to do. Fix that annoying drip of your shower head. Replace the kitchen faucet to something not so antique looking. Blow out your dryer vent so you didn’t accidentally burn the house down. As you added each thing to the mental to-do list, it became increasingly more frightening how much you needed him to do. How much you needed him. And if that just didn’t make your coffee taste like tar.

It really started to weigh on you. How dependent you were on him being around. How you were spending practically every night with him. Thankfully, the buzzing of your phone pulled your attention away from cynical thoughts. Even if it was your sister calling again. Surely talking to her would be less painful than the rabbit hole in your brain.

“Hi–what?” You furrowed your eyebrows trying to make sense of your sister’s frantic words. It almost made you feel guilty for sending her to voicemail the previous night. “What’re you talking about?” Another pause but her voice didn’t get any less agitated. “Slow down, I can’t understand you,”

Once she took a breath you were able to catch up on her rant. And what you’d gathered was unfortunately something you’d seen had been a long time coming. New parents with a single income in southern California, your sister was cluing into the fact that her husband – the father of her baby – wasn’t exactly the dad she hoped he’d be. You wondered why she was surprised by his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t gone to any of her appointments. He hadn’t waited on her when she was nauseous or doubled over in pain. In fact, he didn’t do much of anything for her in the nine months of what you’d heard had been a pretty hard pregnancy. So her surprise at his absence now that the baby was here was baffling. But here she was, complaining to you about how he leaves for work early in the morning, and comes back in the evening. And though she too had spent the entire day working – as a mother – he didn’t help her with the baby when he got back home. He sat  around, waiting for her to cook dinner, and change the baby, and feed and bathe the baby. He bitched at her if the house wasn’t tidied up. Shit, he hardly even acknowledged the baby. 

And though you wanted to ask her why she was surprised – this is who he’d always shown himself to be – you knew that wasn’t helpful. This was your sister’s new reality. Surely she was growing aware of what a mistake it had been to be to hitch her wagon to him. And you pointing that out wouldn’t change anything. It would still be a mistake.

“What can I do?” It was the only remotely helpful thing you could think to say. And it was genuine. You imagined venturing into motherhood was hard enough. Doing so as if you were a single parent when you expected to have the support of a partner must’ve added to the difficulty. So when she told you the thing that would be helpful, you agreed immediately.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

If Joel’s back wasn’t hurting enough before work, it surely was after. He limped up the stairs to his front door. One hand clutching the railing and the other clutching his lower back. The perfect night was looking like it’d include a heating pad and a lot of whiskey. He hoped you wouldn’t mind.

In fact, he’d just poured himself his first glass of whiskey when he heard the knock on the front door. Figured you saw him come home. He was going to be sure to make fun of you for watching him out your front window again. All ready to give you a good ribbing, he tugged open his front door with a big smile on his face. But upon seeing you, that vanished entirely. A large rolling suitcase was beside you. A carry-on sized duffel pack in your hands.

“Goin’ on a trip?”

“I’m goin’ to my sister’s house,”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered all the calls you’d avoided the previous night. Wondered how catastrophically wrong it had gone for you to be leaving. “Why?”

“I don’t know when I’m gonna be back,”

“Can you come in so we can talk?” He stepped to the side to allow you space to come in. He wasn’t prepared for you to deny him.

“I have to catch my plane,”

“Is this because of yesterday?” He cocked his head to the side figuring you weren’t bound to tell him the absolute truth. Yet, he surmised he knew the real reason. “You’re spooked,”

“What?”

He nodded. Hit the nail on the head. “Something clicked in for you about us and now you’re spooked. Running away,”

“Am not,”

“Okay. Then tell me,”

“Joel, I have to go,”

“I’m not trying to trap you,” he murmured and stepped out toward you. “I don’t know what exactly got you spooked, but I’m guessing it probably has to do with me being around so much. Maybe I’m doin’ too much for you. Gotta get you to mow your damn lawn,”

“Joel–”

“I’m just trying to take care of you,”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I know,” he nodded and cupped his hand to the back of your head. “But I want to. And I can. If you’ll let me,”

“I gotta go Joel,” you pressed back against his hand, but he did he best to keep you in place.

“Give me a kiss,”

You knew it was probably the wrong thing to do given that you truly didn’t know when you’d come back. If you would come back, or if you’d spend some time back in California and end up selling your home here. You knew it’d be easier to cut him off here. But his lips looked so soft and you yearned to feel them at least one more time. So you did as he asked and leaned in for a kiss. Let him cradle your head with all the fondness in the world and give you the most tender kiss you imagined existed.

Joel didn’t want to let you go. He knew if he did, each day that passed increased the likelihood he’d never see you again. But you eventually won out. Pulled away enough that your lips parted and you took a step back. You stared up at him, not fearing his gaze, almost as if hoping to sear his image into your memory. Then with a sheepish nod, you turned with your suitcase and walked off his porch and to the awaiting car he hadn’t even noticed had pulled up to whisk you away from him.

[ranticore]

I've often seen people ask you for drawing advice(which yes absolutely!) but what kind of writing advice could you give someone who wants to start? (or just narratives as a whole)

Ok my biggest advice and the thing I always spend most time on when editing is that u should tell the audience way less than you think you should tell them. Provide information sure but don't draw connections and don't hold a reader's hand. Like for example one minute ago I was reading over a paragraph with the final two sentences (paraphrased): "The word 'faery' didn't quite make it out of his mouth [in reference to himself]. He'd never thought of himself in those terms" and my editing comment was to nix that last sentence entirely because it's just saying out loud what the previous sentence is telling us, like holding ur hand and pointing at it saying "hey this is what that last sentence meant btw". it's easy to end up with a lot of that but you need to go back and cut all of those out. think about a reader drawing their own judgements, how much more engaging it is

Other random stuff I've picked up over the years

Kerb your worldbuilders disease ur writing a story not an encyclopaedia

Read your paragraph aloud to identify repetitive or weirdly structured sentences

There should be a clear causal chain running the length of the narrative - x happened because of y, which happened because of z, and so on. No matter how many links in the chain you should know it start to finish

Written media gives you an unlimited time budget, a reader can take as long as they like with it. You don't have to make it quick and snappy. You get to show & explore things that visual media can't, so take advantage of it. Also ditch every piece of writing advice which is like "trim all the fat and also imagine camera angles and scene cuts like it's a movie" because it's not a movie and you aren't constrained into a short runtime.

First draft is rough it's supposed to be rough just write it

It's impossible to write dialogue that nobody would ever say.. easy to scoff and think "nobody talks like this" but they do

I can't in good conscience advise everybody do this but the slush draft (draft 0 as it were) of stbh was narrated entirely in first person by the pov character in each chapter, with the framing device that they were explaining their actions to a judgemental third party. This was just done for fun before any other world building or even plot it was just to get the characters right first & to sort out how they would attempt to justify their actions, when they'd try to make themselves sound better (or worse), and just their voice in general. It ended up being absolutely invaluable

[dramatic-dolphin]

heyyo, sorry if it's a bother but I remember you mentioning somewhere (in the tags of something?) that hungarian might even have more than 18 cases if we count it a different way and I lost that post but I'm still very curious, could you tell me more about this or point me to a source? I love terrorising international friends with the hungarian case system

It's NEVER a bother to talk about linguistics :DD This is gonna be a bit long tho.

The reason for this is that Hungarian has like a million suffixes and not all of them are created equal. So there is a bit of debate over what, exactly, constitues as a "case" here.

The currently accepted safe list of the 18 Hungarian suffixes that are definitely totally cases looks like this:

This is already hilarious, because you, as a native speaker, have no idea what these terms mean, and also because there is nothing at essive-modal in this example. Because we just do not decline the word jég in that case.

(Essive-modal is the -ul in "jutalmul" and "[beszélek] magyarul" btw. Is 'jegekül' a word that exists and makes sense? Discuss.)

These are the "bare minimum" of cases that fit both of the two (currently accepted) rules that 1) a case can be a compulsory argument of a verb (aka you can have a verb that you have to use a specific case with, like "beléptem a házba") and 2) only cases can follow other suffixes (I actually can't think of an example for this rn lol).

Thinking about it, you might even get by with saying we have 17 cases in a pinch, since essive-modal is such a weirdo and useless for like most nouns. Don't quote me on this one though.

Anyways, if you're a bit more daring, you can look at all the other suffixes and say "well, why can't these be cases too?" Like come on, this is missing genitive. Why is it missing genitive? So you put in genitive (embernek). And if that's in, then why can't the others be there too? Which is how you end up with off-the-wall cases like temporal (ötkor), sociative (kutyástul), locative (Győrött), distributive-temporal (hetente), and so on until you reach like 34, or however many suffixes there are. Every suffix can be given a fancy overly specific case name to horrify poor non-Hungarian speakers.

Wait, did I say the bare minimum was 18(-17) cases? Actually no, the bare minimum is ZERO cases. Because you can take the enlightened opinion that "case" as a concept should not be applied to agglutinative languages like Hungarian, and Hungarian cases are actually better understood as postpositions affixed to a noun. (Funnily, this is actually how some of those suffixes became suffixes. Ex: hodu utu rea -> hadi útra.)

So, there you have it. The number of cases in Hungarian is a number between 0 and 35. But probably 18. Unless it's not.

[sublightdrive]

I say this a lot but I am constantly amazed at how the complex numbers aren't a convenient or useful extension that we stuck "on top" of real numbers, but rather it would be better to call real numbers a flat shadow cast by the more "real" structure of the complex numbers. Long example of what I mean by this under the break:

For an example of what I mean by this, we can consider the Taylor series expansion for the function

Now the whole idea of a Taylor series is kind of preposterous, this notion that certain functions can not only be approximated with an polynomial, but that if we allow that polynomial to have infinite terms that the two functions are actually the same function... so long as we stay inside a certain interval.

And it's that "inside a certain interval" that's the kicker, here. Because we're dealing with The Infinite, a tempestuous beast to wrangle on the best of days, and we have to be careful where and when we let it off the leash. The series expansion above is only true when you plug in x values between -1 and 1.

Inside that range, each additional term of the polynomial you calculate gets you values closer and closer to the original function. Pick an x value outside that range, and instead of each term getting you closer to the original function's value, they get you further away.

Which, okay sure. But why?

Well, if we take look at the very similar (but not quite the same) function

then that question has a more obvious answer. For this function, the series expansion diverges at 1 and -1... because the function itself does. Plugging in either -1 or 1 forces g(x) to divide by zero, exploding its output up to infinity. The series expansion does the same thing for a different reason, since when x is small, each subsequent term is getting smaller as you go down the polynomial, but if you pick a larger x-value the terms get bigger and bigger.

But what's the deal with our original function? It hasn't got any infinite spikes to speak of. If we plot it, it turns out to have a quite reasonable little graph that's nearly flat besides a pleasant little bump around x=0:

In fact, there's nothing notable at all about our points x=-1 and x=1. No asymptotes, weird wiggles, inflection points, nothing.

To see where the issue is, we need to step up into the complex plane. When we allow our choice of values to include imaginary components, then it becomes clear where the issue lies:

We have an asymptote (or, since we're in the complexes now, it would be more appropriate to call it a singularity) at x=i and x=-i. When we plot those points on the complex plane we get a hint toward what's going on:

The singularities at ±i define the radius of a circle that lines up perfectly with the range of divergence we originally saw that went from -1 to 1.

And as it turns out the range of values within which any function's series expansion works like it should depends entirely on how away we are from the nearest singularity on the complex plane, even when the original function was entirely real-valued.

When we look at functions purely as they behave over the real numbers, all we're seeing is the surface level behavior of a much greater and complicated structure, which exists in a more complete capacity in the complex realm. Under most circumstances that structure doesn't "interfere" with what we're trying to do, so it's not obvious that it's there. But it is always there, dictating the way real valued functions behave.

I picked up this specific example from Tristan Needham's Visual Complex Analysis, which really opened my eyes to how a lot of the (seemingly) arbitrary "rules" of complex analysis can be seen as the straightforward consequences of what he calls the "amplitwist". I highly recommend it to anyone who, like me, loves pictures and visual thinking to make sense of bigger ideas.

where are my maths enjoyers i need some maths positivity on the dash please

no hate allowed on this post btw go make your own post this is for maths enjoyers only

please tell me your favourite maths topic ill go first i love algebra :]

[pokemonshelterstories]

What's better as a pet, Maschiff or Mabostiff? I want to travel to Paldea to adopt one, though most of what I've read suggests that Mabostiff is actually gentler/calmer than it's pre-evolution. I'd see you work with Maschiffs sometimes, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on this before making a decision!

it really depends on what kind of household you have and where you live!

maschiff are really great for people who live in more crowded areas. they're playful, energetic pokemon, and with proper training and socialization they can tolerate and even come to enjoy strangers. they can be nervous pokemon, but not so much that it becomes a behavioral issue so long as you are prepared for it and know how to build a pokemon's confidence through training. the main thing is to not let anyone harass him when he shows signs that he doesn't like something. so many of the maschiff we get in the shelter are described as mean when really they're used to people thinking their signals that they want to be left alone are funny. but while they have a reputation for being reactive, it's really the result of poor training.

mabosstiff are much more low-key pokemon in terms of exercise, and they're beloved as family pets for their calm and protective nature, especially around children. however, they need a lot more space on account of their size- and they don't make good pokemon to keep if you have neighbors or plan to take your pokemon out to parks or on hikes or whatnot. they are immensely territorial and protective pokemon that don't tolerate strangers. you really cannot let them meet new people at your house at all, and even introducing them on neutral ground can be difficult. their first instinct is to protect their group, and they can store up so much energy in their dewlap that even a warning bite can cause severe injury to a human or other pokemon. most mabosstiff out here in paldea live on farms and act as guard dogs for flocks of mareep or for families living in remote areas. they're wonderful pokemon for their family group, but you need to be fairly isolated if you don't want to risk any incidents.

[tunastime]

hiccuping tears into the shoulder + ranchers by chance?

hiccuping tears into their shoulder (1087 words) (x)

For the first time in a good, long portion of his life, Tango despises how silent the night gets. It's not without its natural noise—the balmy, sticky humidity and breeze in the grass, or the crickets, the cicadas quieting down, the sounds of animals rearranging themselves to a comfier sleeping arrangement. He should be doing the same, but he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his spine a rigid line. He can feel the blood in his body, he can feel the spaces where his muscles connect to each other, with every breath he can feel his lungs separate out the oxygen. It's at the very least startling, and at the very most, he feels like he might dissolve on the spot if touched. 

Tango knows how death feels—painless respawn and a few seasons of a life game behind him, but to feel someone else die, too. The echo of death alongside your own. He didn't like that! Not good at all. All his blood and heartbeat-y things are rushing around in his ears. He doesn't even hear Jimmy the first time he speaks up from the other side of the bed, with how his voice scrapes out.

"I didn't know they were aiming for us," Jimmy says.

"Of course not," Tango says, furrowing his eyebrows. "I know you didn't."

He's still looking at his hands, running his thumb over the lines in his palm and pushing into the tiny bones and muscle there. Jimmy flexes his hands like he can feel the pressure and bones moving around. He watches him fold his hand tight around each other and slump, pulling his shoulders to his chest. His breath squeezes in his chest as Jimmy deflates tiredly.

"I just don't want you to think—"

"I'm not gonna think this is your fault, alright?" Tango says, frowning at him. "Why would I?"

Jimmy sighs. His jaw works.

"Cause it usually is," he grits. Tango scrunches his nose on instinct, recoiling out of habit before he manages:

"That's not fair, man."

"This whole game isn't far!" Jimmy huffs, waving a hand about.

"Sure but—"

"But nothing, Tango. I just—I can't lose and drag you with me. That's more than not fair."

"I don't care."

"I care."

Before Tango can argue, though, he tastes the faintest hints of anger and frustration at the back of his mouth fade. He watches Jimmy's face contort as he tries to come up with a better sentence, something he probably thinks Tango deserves. Maybe an apology. 

Tango just looks at him. He kind of feels bad, that little bit of gut wrenching cold that trickles in, but mostly he's just confused. Jimmy's words bat around in his brain like dust particles. Dust bunnies. He definitely assumed they were done with this. That maybe Jimmy made peace like he did—though really he hadn't had that much time to make peace, if he's being honest. He's still bitter. He's sure a lot of people are still bitter. But in terms of Jimmy's whole situation? It's not like it could be helped. They just had to be careful. So Tango was being careful, and Jimmy was taking what Tango thought was a calculated risk, so he was mad, sure, but he couldn't really stay mad for a long time. So he takes a long breath and sighs it out his nose. It still tastes surprisingly reminiscent of smoke.

"So what are we going to do?" he asks softly. Jimmy inhales.

"I don't know," he says. "Go to bed? Wake up and start planning?"

Tango hums plainly. He likes that idea. The small spool of feeling in his chest that must belong to Jimmy gives a little tug, like it wanted to take him down with it. 

"Yeah," Tango says, voice coming hoarse. "Yeah, I think so."

For a moment, Tango runs his tongue over his teeth, runs his thumbs over the seams of his knees. He sighs, and then he leans into Jimmy's shoulder with a definitive huff. He's tired. From the ache in his bones, to the breathlessness of dying, to just taking in Jimmy's stress. Man. He's exhausted. Jimmy snorts quietly. He feels him press his cheek against Tango's head. The hand Jimmy had been fiddling with in his lap ends up at the base of his spine, splayed over the fabric. Tango squeezes his eyes shut.

"Thanks Tango," Jimmy says shakily. He sounds like he's on the knife's edge of crying, so Tango fumbles out a hand and lands it solidly on his knee. It's not a terribly comfortable thing to stretch one of his achy shoulders or biceps that far but he does anyway, and Jimmy huffs out a damp laugh. "Guess I'm just... pissed off."

Tango snorts.

"If you think you're pissed, just wait until they rile me up," he says into the fabric of Jimmy's shirt. Jimmy laughs. Tango tries to hold in a grin that he also smothers into his shoulder, but fails. Jimmy's hand skips over his knuckles and squeezes the hand on his knee.

"Sure thing, Rancher," he teases. Tango makes a half-suppressed noise of indignation, squeaking as he bolts upright. He nearly knocks into Jimmy's jaw as he untangles himself with all the grace of a cat trying to weasel out of someone's arms. 

"I'm just sayin'," he grumbles, crinkling his nose. "You seem like you're in a better mood though."

Jimmy sighs, rounding out his shoulders. 

"Think so," he says, working his cheek between his teeth. Tango feels the sensation of prodding in his mouth. Bleh. "Think so."

"Probably a good idea to make good on that sleeping... thing,” he says, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. He barely stifles a yawn as Jimmy stretches, twisting his tall body around in a way that feels surprisingly pleasant to Tango’s stiff muscles. He can’t imagine, especially with the way Jimmy holds all his emotions in his shoulders, that his upper back is doing him any favors. Jimmy makes a little noise in confirmation as Tango turns, attempting to make ample space for him in the small bed. He knows they’ll end up back to back at some point, but as he lies down, shoulder to shoulder, an easy comfort rolls over him. Sure there’s all the red blood rushing around in his ears, and sure he feels it right up on his skin like a bad rash, but for now, next to Jimmy, he shuts his eyes.

They’ll make this time count for something, at least.

[omgsomeonesomewhereonearth]

This poll as well as recent conversations I've had is really helping me realise that I actually had amazing sex ed my whole life. It wasn't perfect (and a lot of my other schooling wasn't either), but honestly I'd say it was better than good!

In Year 5 (9-10), primary school - had a few lessons on puberty, a short one from our main teacher and then another one later where they separated the boys and girls. A professional lady came in to talk about the dawning of our boobs and periods and other bodily changes. They also talked about penises briefly but not in much detail. I can only assume the boys got the same talk but in reverse wrt detail. Didn't go deeply into partnered sex but wet dreams and masturbation were mentioned.

Year 6 (10-11), different primary school - taught us more about sex. It was a incredibly heteronormative (I specifically remember them describing the act as "a special hug between a man and a woman that can lead to a baby), but comprehensive and did emphasise that sex could also be for pleasure. We did worksheets where we had to label the body parts and watched some videos with naked cartoons ans scientific diagrams. Again stuff like masturbation and wet dreams were brought up in a normal and not shameful way.

Year 7 (11-12), all girls secondary school - had a professional lady come in again to tell us about our changing bodies and hormones and stuff in great detail in first term. Gave us free tampons and pads, explained that there's no shame in using either. Started talking about sex both from a scientific perspective in biology and a personal perspective in PSHE, around the same time which I think really helped bring the message home. Second term a different professional came in to talk to us about like, sexual feelings and hormones and slut shaming/virgin shaming in teen culture.

Year 8 (12-13), learned more about protection and all of the options available to us in terms of hormonal birth control and physical like condoms. Again, that happened both in biology and PSHE to really drive the point home. Later on in Geography we discussed Africa for a full term and about two weeks of that were focused on how AIDS spread rapidly because condoms weren't made accessible and how important they can be not just as birth control but also for personal safety. Did tell us though that people with AIDS are fully capable of living full and healthy lives and it's not inherently a death sentence. We also had a day long workshop with many activities where we talked about different kinds of relationships. This wasn't inherently sex ed, but it did get brought up in the context of many relationships can involve sex - and these don't have to be marital or even romantic. We talked in detail about consent in relationships, both to do with sex and otherwise and how to recognise the signs of abuse. And we also talked about same sex relationships during that workshop which was nice :)

Year 9 (13-14), had another day-long workshop like the relationships one but this time it was purely about sex. Once again talked in depth about consent, slut shaming, and virgin shaming etc. Went over all the different birth control methods available to us and talked about their effectiveness. Practiced putting condoms on bananas. Even talked a little bit about lesbian sex and how you can practice safety whilst doing that. Were given the option to take home free condoms.

Again it wasn't perfect by any means and especially at the all girls school it was very cis-woman-with-a-vagina centric. But for me, as a perisex afab who for now hasn't transitioned medically at all, I have found myself really benefiting from the stuff I learned back then in my adult life! I would love if they'd talked more about trans bodies and experiences - and honestly, knowing that school it's fairly likely that they now do! All of these experiences are from like 2012-2017. A lot of the stuff we learned about gay sex had only been introduced a year prior, to my knowledge.

"Abstinence-focused" meaning that a large underlying message of the sex education you received was "don't have sex [before marriage]."

If you had sex ed at multiple different times, vote according to whichever was better.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[richarlotte]

something on your mind?

Time to talk about love.

My friends, my good friends who are in Chicago, D.C., Montreal, Philly, and New York and who are in amazing relationships, share one thing: they focused on bettering their lives and themselves, and good men fit into the picture they were focused on painting. There was no “I’m going to find a good man and do the work later,” and there were no excuses made as to why they were neglecting themselves in favor of finding someone to take care of them; there were many distinct efforts made to better themselves, and when the right people came along, things fell into place naturally on both sides and progressed smoothly.

 

There’s a lot of focus on whether someone will fit into your life on Tumblr, but not a lot of talk about what’s going on on the other side. If you’re unhealed, uneducated, emotionally unstable, and unfit for a relationship, do you really think that you’ll find someone who’ll want to stay with you and do the healing for you? I say this not to be unkind but to be realistic. In order to form a strong, long-lasting relationship with someone, you have to be healthy and ready to deal with the conflicts and disappointments that occur in anyone’s life. If you have never had to deal with the things that can arise in any romantic relationship and you’re not mentally prepared to in the first place, you’ll find that it’ll be harder for you to keep things together and remain stable when life feels hard.

 

I have been in relationships before—healthy relationships—and I have thrived in them. But I’m also a person with trauma, and I know how that trauma presents itself and I know my triggers. It took me plenty of therapy, lots of listening to myself and acknowledging my feelings, and tons of breakups before I recognized both what I needed and what I was subconsciously seeking out. All of my friends who have made their longterm relationships last know what they’re looking for, know what they need, and know themselves well enough to walk away before things end on bad terms. Self-work must be done if you want to truly thrive in life, and you must have the ability to reflect on the things you could have done better.

 

Myself and the people I’ve known who’ve gone from struggling to thriving in relationships all share one common denominator: we’ve done the hard work associated with success, and we’re all willing to continue doing the work needed to get what we want. It’s incredibly hard and very damaging to one’s psyche to go through life with a clear image of what you want in your mind but a lack of awareness that limits you from getting what you want. It’s important to understand that you can overcome the obstacles in your own path and you can also overcome being an obstacle yourself. There are effective ways to heal, books you can immerse yourself in, therapists you can see, and things you can do to build yourself up so that you can thrive and feel more confident in your love life.

TL;DR:

You have to be willing to do the inner work before you seek out a romantic partner. A relationship won’t repair you if you feel broken; only you can heal yourself and fix your trauma. It’s an important part of finding yourself and finding a love that lasts and feels healthy.