#if working a job has taught me anything its that i hate people i hate people I hate people I hate people I hate people i hate p

[confetti-critter]

Coworker who made everyone sick is still unmasked coughing on everything btw

[mochamadeleines]

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for. 

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much. 

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed. 

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft. 

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open. 

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him. 

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry. 

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead. 

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you. 

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.” 

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay. 

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?” 

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless. 

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you. 

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal. 

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow,  he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.” 

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.  

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him.  “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.” 

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured. 

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.” 

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore. 

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible? 

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.” 

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross. 

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you. 

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him. 

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now. 

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts?  I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.” 

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about. 

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”  

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door. 

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.” 

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

-

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys. 

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match. 

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock. 

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color.  He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.” 

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with. 

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand. 

“Darlin’.” 

“Right.” 

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?” 

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other. 

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.” 

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat. 

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city. 

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.” 

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you. 

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you. 

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.” 

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress? 

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.” 

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you. 

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down. 

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing. 

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-” 

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.” 

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head. 

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.” 

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt. 

“Oh fuck-” 

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum. 

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath. 

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless. 

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well. 

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel-  Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw. 

“Hhah-  No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me. 

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden  youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect. 

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.” 

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead.  “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.” 

[lotuseaterwhowistlesthedark]

God I really want to fucking kill myself.

Tw. Rant. You don't need to read this. I'll get over it and solve this myself somehow. Don't worry

My mom hands all the house cleaning work to me because she had a hand accident on her right hand and a couple years later due to her medical issues her left hand was also damaged

Not when I say damaged I mean fucking hurting when strained too long. NOT I CANT FUCKING DO ANYTHING BECAUSE MY HAND LIGAMENTS HAVE BEEN TORN.

So as I was saying. The house hold chores have com crashing on me.

I live in a huge house where absolutely no one wants to fucking help. Fuck not even me.

Even before my recent shifting to the new house a few months age no one helped r kept the house clean. So when I say I was raided in an unorganised house I mean it.

It means laundry thrown inthe washing machine and hung up only the next day. And when the cloths are dry no one folds it. EVEN TO THIS FUCKING DAY I DO BOT KNOW ABOUT THE CONCEPT OF HAVING A CONSISTENT CLEAN HOUSE.

like we'd clean it one day but we'd be like the next two days later "Oh it's clean enough" and never clean again.

Or not having a clean stove because people let the milk flow out of it one to many times without cleaning it or makeing food on it and since it's the fucking stove no one cleans it up cuz why would they it's someone else's job, this happened in my house way way before my mom's accident.

My mother says I need to sweep and mop the house regularly but I can't do that because no one has taught how to. I know to do it but I don't know how to stay consistent. I learnt it on my own.

I expect my mother to clean the stove, and maybe fold the clothes, it doesn't need that much hand power but I'm expected to do it because the only young person inthe house and I'm the only one injured.

Everyone in my house is fat because no one taught me consistency of going and working out.

Ever since my childhood I'm not allowed to play with boys. I'm not allowed to stay out of the house after sun down. If I come home late I can't go to play for the entire week or two.

And no one taught me how to study properly. I agree that my mother claims that she say with me until 6th grade but I tend to forget traumatic incident or fights so I don't remember it at all....

Fuck me.

There's only so much I can do.

Fucking fuckdy fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCKING KILL ME ÀJSVFOSBELSIFBDOANDUD....

I don't fucking know what to do not.

Why do I feel so so sad about an unclean house.

What is wrong with me.

WHY AM I CRYING WHEN ITS ALL MY FUCKING FAULT?!?!

IM SUPPOSED TO FIX THIS.

I CANT BLAME MY PARENTS ITS THEIR FIRST TIME TOO.

HOW DO I FIX THIS

WHY DO I HATE MYSELF

HOW FO I FIX THIS.

FUCK.

as usual.... I'll figure it out, yes I'm fine I just needed to rant.

Thank you from reading

Bye

[plantsandpies]

Fairy tail headcanon not related to my previous post!

All dragonslayers have dyslexia. The first gen do because they were from 400 years ago. They spoke and read a different language. So I imagine it’s like them knowing Gaelic and then them having to learn English immediately because they were shoved 400 years into the future. And English has the highest rates of dyslexia because it’s combined with so many different languages and spellings. Obviously English isn’t what they speak, but I imagine it’s like this scenario.

The second gen do because the lacrema (I have no idea how to spell that) is based off of the previous dragonslayers. They wanted it to be like a skill transfer, so they just shoved the language thing in it. These people didn’t care about the people, just the result (look at cobra. He can listen to people’s thoughts. That would so over stimulating. They obviously didn’t think anything through).

I don’t know if Laxus got an actual procedure like the rest did, but if he didn’t it’s worse for him because his dad would’ve done it and he did it kinda incorrectly, as in, it works properly but it was placed incorrectly so some side effects are worse.

Which makes so much sense on why Natsu had trouble reading. Not only did he not know the language it’s also with different sounds, shapes, and spellings.

I imagine Gajeel joined young, but, unlike Fairytail, it wasn’t a place where you could admit you couldn’t read. Juvia was the one who taught him because even though she was a part of phantom she’s like a genuine and kind person. Until he learned she also read the jobs out loud but in a way where everyone just thought it was her being quirky. Gajeel didn’t pick up on until he went through his character arc. After he thanked her a lot and helped her make her grey body pillow.

(Unrelated, but I think Gajeel’s like, an engineering genius. He works with metal a lot and I think he’ll just make stuff. So he made the printing press for the fabric of the pillow).

As for if the gen one’s were too young to have learned the language. I believe Natsu and Gajeel were like eight. Because Natsu is 18 at the start of the show and Lucy’s 17, so he’s a year older. Meaning when he came out of the portal he had to be a year older than Lucy was. Her mom died when she was seven, so Natsu would be eight. I think Gajeel’s the same age. That would make the rest like 2 since Wendy’s 12 when Natsu is 18, but they still grew up around the language (which I’m calling demonic because they found it used in Zeref’s writings and in one of his demon books that was later stolen from the castle. That wasn’t its original name but it’s been 400 years and his works are like their only sources.) and most 2 year olds start learning to recognize letters. At least I did but my mom did make me watch like two episodes of educational tv (word world for anyone who’s wondering, which I hated because it was boring) before I could watch something not educational, so maybe I’m the weird one.

I also believe this was what Zeref wrote in even during the show because it was his native language and he was planning to die or change the past, so why would he need a new language? Plus it’s be super hard to learn especially when you’re literally being driven insane and time and culture is constantly changing. (I have my own theory about how the curse works because it’s kinda explained but also kinda not explained in the show; but that’s a different post.)

For reference: I have dyslexia and for me it’s spelling issues and when I read I like skip lines and sometimes the words like blur? If that makes sense. My sister also has it and had a lot of trouble with d and b growing up. She has it worse than me, though.

[jeremiah-fisher]

this august

—a the summer i turned pretty fic about first love, defining moments, and jeremiah fisher ♡

「chapter 5: a familiar anchor」

And there was something 'bout you that now I can't remember It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning I never know what to think about

I think about you (so don't let go) About you (so don't let go) Do you think I have forgotten About you? (Don't let go)

. . .

Tension is rapidly gathering in my shoulders. Anxiety creeps up my neck, twisting its claws around me like a vice. I’m anything except calm about the situation I’m in, despite my best efforts.

As I walk, I try to do the breathing exercises Aunt Greenie taught me when I was a kid, too afraid to get on a bike; too afraid of drowning; too afraid of speaking my mind lest someone be hurt. They don’t help half as much as they did when I was a kid with adults around me to rely on. Because today, I’m all alone, like I have been for years now except this time, I’m also homeless. 

Zosia and Carter moved out two weeks ago and in no time at all, Gene had given me the boot. He was as kind as a landlord can be, I suppose. He let me stay on an extra week without pay, didn’t charge me for a new paint job nor a deep clean like I had heard others around the city had to shell out hundreds for, and he even gave me a present: the mini waffle maker that one of the tenants before had left behind. Zosia had used it on a few occasions but for most of our time in the house, it sat at the bottom of a cupboard, covered in dust. Now, it’s been shoved between my clothes and shoes inside a suitcase as I roll it through the airport. 

There are two and a half hours to go before my flight to Boston and I’ve already completed the pre-check in. I have running shoes on my feet, I’m in a pair of loose fitting jogging pants with a white tank and half zipped hoodie on top, and my headphones are secure over my ears while I listen to the latest updates on the news.

A robbery downtown, the passing of a high ranked political figure, countries threatening to go to war with each other, and the release of a tell-all book by an ex-member of a famous rock band. In retrospect, I can admit that some of my anxiety is connected to my relentless thirst for knowledge that isn’t always of benefit, but the last thing I’m going to do today is listen to pop songs. Because after everything that’s happened, I don’t deserve it. 

These are my last few minutes in Chicago. 

I don’t know if this departure is for a few months or a few years, but what I do know is that I hate myself for allowing my life to come to this. This city and its rambunctious crowds and busy streets has been home to me for years. I went to school here, made friends here, found my first job here… I fell in love here. To know that I’m leaving it all behind because of my own mistakes is a travesty that is difficult to comprehend. I thought I would grow old here.

I stop rolling my suitcase for a moment to catch my breath and readjust my baseball cap. It feels too hot even though the airport is being pumped with gusts of frigid air. I can’t focus on anything except how much I don’t want this. I have half a mind to turn around and walk right back out, grab a motel room for the night then spend the entire day searching for a job. The city is massive. There are so many people and so many shops. Someone would hire me, right? I have a decent amount of retail experience. I can fix clothes, bag groceries, and mop floors; and anything I don’t know, I can easily learn.

My fingers tighten around the handle of my luggage. The issue with my predicament is that my ideas are only a temporary fix. I can get a job at a supermarket or a mall, but where will that leave me in terms of a place to live? Where will I sleep, eat, or work out? I haven’t been to a proper gym in over a year. I lift four litre bottles as makeshift weights in the hopes that I can put money aside for real ones in the future. Sometimes, it feels like everything is for the future, and then before I know it, I’m living through the ages I thought I would have everything together. 

With one final intake of breath, I start moving again. I drop my luggage off, get through security with minimal annoyance from TSA, and then I’m having my boarding pass scanned. That’s when reality truly starts to sink in, when I’m sitting on a waiting chair next to Gate 17, my cheek resting pathetically on my hiking bag.

I watch people walk past me. Businessmen, kids, potential runaways. Everyone who has somewhere else to be on a morning that is less mundane than I ever could have dreamt it being.

So I turn up the volume on my headphones and give myself permission to cry once I am in my seat on the airplane.

. . . 

Taylor and Steven are gracious hosts. 

Taylor throws her arms around me the moment she sees me inside the airport and Steven immediately asks me if I had been keeping up with news on Chicago’s newest celebrity criminal – a retired boxer who had three women trapped in his basement for ten years. Then they drive me to the heart of their city, where their apartment overlooks a park. They feed me chicken sandwiches and hot French fries from Chik-fil-A, froyo from Taylor’s favourite family owned spot, and then they lead me to my room. 

They have exactly two bedrooms in their apartment, one of which is theirs and the other Steven’s gaming room and Taylor’s studio. I had seen it in the background of our FaceTIme calls a bunch of times. 

Standing in it now, with my suitcase at my feet, it looks different.  Steven’s gaming system is in the corner with a black sheet over it and Taylor’s yoga gear is in an unlabelled box nearby. And there’s a mattress. It has to be new because I can still smell the packaging it arrived in. 

“Did you buy me a bed?” 

From behind me, Taylor shrugs but Steven is smiling. I look at both of them in awe. 

“We were going to get one anyways, since Con stays over sometimes,” Steven explains, but there is a depth to his voice. They did this for me. “The sheets are kinda old, though.”

“Who cares? You guys got me a bed!” I drop my hiking bag and propel myself at them, hugging my friends with all my might. I had cried on the plane ride, tiny sniffles hidden from the person next to me who probably wouldn’t have noticed my tears when they were watching a movie anyways, but right this second, I want to sob. For everything I had ever lost, the friends I have are certainly a great replacement. “Thank you. Really.” 

Steven smiles again. “As long as you’re comfortable.” Then he glances at his girlfriend before looking back at me. “I’ve got work in the morning and I know Tay has a shift at the clinic. Will you be okay on your own tomorrow? We’ll go out for Chinese after.” 

“I’ll be fine, Stevie.” I tilt my head back. “Might even give your gaming system a go.” 

“I’m all for it if you can figure out my password.” 

Taylor mouths, “My nickname.” Steven’s nickname for Taylor is Valley, which is supposedly an inside joke from when they were in high school but I think it’s just because Taylor does a seriously effective Valley Girl accent. Enough to put Cher Horowitz to shame. 

Once Steven goes to bed, I take a quick shower then meet Taylor in the living room. 

There is a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine on the coffee table. I join her with a yelp, knowing exactly what is going to happen. It’s a tradition we made up with the other girls on our floor in first year: popcorn (extra buttery and caramel), the cheapest bottle of wine we could find, and a Disney Channel original movie. We would write our picks on ripped paper then dump it in the bowl of popcorn. Then whoever had kissed a guy that week would get to fish one of the choices out. It was usually a tie between Taylor or Malak. Then when Taylor started Davis – because boyfriends didn’t count – it became Malak, Emma, and sometimes me. 

A light of hope flares in my chest as Taylor shakes the bowl of popcorn in front of me. “Have your pick.” 

“But I haven’t kissed anyone lately.”

“I changed the rules. The winner is the person who is about to embark on a new life journey.” 

I let out a snort as I dig round in the bowl. When my hand comes back up, I secretly hope it says Stuck in the Suburbs. It’s been my comfort movie for as long as I can remember. I used to watch it all the time as a kid, often finishing homework as fast as I could so Mom would let me have the remote before a rerun. Today, on all days, I need it like air, like an anchor. 

Taylor snatches the strip of paper from my hands before I can take a look, then she’s reading the contents, and pressing buttons on her remote. “Hey! No fair!” 

“Just look at the TV, Drama Queen.”

“Ugh, fine.”

I do as she says, sinking into the sofa cushions. My hair is still wet from the shower, but I don’t care for detangling it or spraying leave-on conditioner. Today, I am free of all human necessity except the one that requires me to be present right here, right now. 

At the sound of the opening melody to Stuck in the Suburbs, a shiny grin spreads across my mouth, nearly making me ache with the ferocity of my joy. “I was secretly hoping for this!”

Taylor smirks then sets the remote aside, reaching into the bowl on my lap for a handful of popcorn. “Maybe your luck’s finally turning the tide.”

. . . 

Two days later, and I’m not quite sure how it happened exactly, Steven is loading up the trunk of his car with Taylor’s carry-on luggage while she paints her nails a striking yellow in the passenger seat and I’m fiddling with the car’s bluetooth – all in an effort to ready ourselves for a two hour drive to Cousins Beach, Massachusetts.

Jeremiah called earlier today, just before breakfast, to talk to Steven. When the video call inevitably landed on me and Taylor doing yoga in the living room, the boys began talking about us hanging out for the weekend. Alarms had started going off in my head as soon as Jeremiah said we should come because Taylor had told me, only a few minutes before, that Conrad and Belly still hadn’t told him they were engaged. 

Weeks ago, Belly said that Conrad was working on it; that he had a plan for how he was going to break the news to his brother. With the wedding set to take place in August, the church and reception hall already booked, I don’t know how much longer the two of them can hide the secret. It’s only a matter of time before someone lets the cat out of the bag, too. Jeremiah talks to his dad all the time, for work and personal reasons. Laurel checks in on him, too, when she brings him home cooked meals on her visits to Susannah. When the invites to other family and friends start going out next week, it won’t take long at all for Jeremiah to find out from someone who isn’t his immediate family. 

That girl inside me, the one from six years ago, burns with guilt. No matter how things turned out in the end, Jeremiah still loved Belly. He was the guy who fucked up his relationship with her, sure. But he was also the guy who carried her home after every drunken night, who wrote her sweet messages on the white board that hung from our door, and who learned how to cook her favourite meal straight from her mother during that time she was too sick to even talk. He loved her and that was an indisputable fact. You don’t almost get married to someone you don’t love. So for that reason alone, he deserves to know that there is a very real chance he is about to lose her to his brother forever.

An unsettling feeling ricochets inside my heart for most of the ride. When Steven offers to stop for coffee, I deny him even though the idea of a frappuccino is mouthwatering in the June heat. I’m afraid that if I drink anything, all it’ll do is come back up the second I see Jeremiah again. 

Taylor and Steven are in a heated discussion about cat breeds when I smell it. That faint, salty essence of boat rides and sandy beaches and endless ocean. I slide my headphones off, the sound of Technicolo(u)r by Chris Lanzon a faraway dream, as I sit up to breathe it in. I bring my window all the way open and stick my head out just a little, desperate to devour it with my lungs. I know I’m going to miss this place and I haven’t even arrived yet. 

“It’s nice, right?” Steven asks and I don’t even realize the question is directed to me until the silence in between his question and my response starts bringing me down from a high. 

“I wish life could always feel like this,” I tell him, meaning it. This free. This expanse. This wondrous. “When’s the last time you guys came here?” 

“Probably the last time you did,” Taylor answers. The last time I did was at the botched wedding of many summers past. “Jere invites us, but we never go. There’s never enough time.”

I hum. “This weekend must be special.”

Steven snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Taylor shoots him a look that says stop and I take it as my queue not to prod, even though I’m itching to know what it means. It’s obvious the two of them have an understanding of some sort that is meant to leave me in the dark. If it’s important enough, I’ll find out what it is somehow. I learned a long time ago to stay out of business that isn’t mine. Life is much simpler when you’re ignorant. 

My mind is in a trance as we keep driving. Down and down an almost empty road, save for a few minivans and a single sportscar. It’s not until we pass a sign which says Welcome to Cousins Beach! that a jittery, almost breathtaking emotion swirls in my heart and butterflies take flight in my stomach. 

Almost there. 

We pass by seafood restaurants, a farmer’s market called Rosie’s which is full of people donning artistic tote bags, a long stretch of motels, a water park, a country club, and then, we’re turning down a neighbourhood of houses that line a massive stretch of beach. The gravel beneath the tires reminds me of the last time I was here, like a lost memory or something I had intentionally extracted from my plethora of nostalgic ruminations. We were four girls in one car back then, taking turns with the aux cord and playing Kiss, Marry, Kill with our celebrity crushes, on our way to a wedding that just didn’t make sense.  

As I’m reminiscing, I get the brilliant idea of poking my head through the space between the seats in front of me. Almost comically, I start wiggling my brows as I stare at Taylor’s dainty profile with a million-watt smile. 

“Kiss, Marry, Kill: Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Henry Cavill, and…” I sneak a glimpse at her boyfriend. “Steven.”

Taylor erupts into laughter while Steven scoffs, then says, “If I’m not both kiss and marry, this relationship is over.”

“That’s not how the game works, buddy,” I laugh, apologetically patting his shoulder as I lean back in my seat again. “Personally, I’d kill Steven twice for Aaron’s fine ass any day.”

“Nice. Really good friendship, Bex.”

“Only the best for you.”

Taylor mulls over my question and eventually returns with, “Marry Steven, kiss Henry, and kill Aaron.” 

The answer is so insane that, at the exact same time with the exact same force, me and Steven burst out: “WHAT?!”

That sets Taylor off again and by the time she finally gathers herself enough to provide reasoning for her insane answers, Steven is cutting the engine of his Volkswagen Tiguan in the driveway of a house which enraptures you from the moment you look at it. 

Its porch wraps around; the posts white and pristine, like they had been freshly cleaned. Two adirondack chairs with a sun, a beach, and two boys waving sit next to the blue door. Flowers in hand painted pots lead up, up, and up to the steps where a man whom I had only last seen in my dreams is exiting his home.

Jeremiah is all luminous smiles and good humour as he walks down the steps of his mother’s house. The buttons of his blue, brown, and créme knitted shirt are clasped only in the bottom half, so you can see how his tanned skin glistens under the sun. A rope of tiny seashells line his neck. His hair is longer, too. Not too much to be messy but enough for a stranger to guess he lives by the ocean. 

He looks exactly like the surfer I remember from those summers ago, when he kept riding the waves instead of helping with preparations for his own wedding. Conrad made one or two snarky comments about it while Belly stayed mostly quiet, which pissed me off because it seemed like since the scandal that rocked their relationship months earlier, she stopped fighting with him. There was a disconnect and you could feel it from a mile away. One of the biggest days of Jeremiah’s life was around the corner yet the ocean waves couldn’t let him go. Or maybe he couldn’t let them go. 

Steven and Taylor tumble out of the car first. Steven puts his arms around Jeremiah. They hug for a quick second before both trying to put each other in a headlock. Then Taylor calls, “Jeremy” and they break it up. He hugs her and tells her her new hair looks great. It makes her grin. I have never known a person to love compliments as much as she does, and it’s nice to watch her bloom under the attention. There’s a reason why her yoga tutorials are so well received on Youtube. 

I’m still staring at the three of them when Jeremiah’s eyes flicker to the car. I don’t think he sees me because I jump back, away from the big window, like lightning has struck. I can’t hide from him and I don’t want to either but the thought of staying in this car for another minute sounds heavenly. A moment to relax, to gather myself. Maybe if they all go inside without me, I can slip out and head for the beach, dip my toes in the water and breathe the start of summer in. 

All of that goes flying out the window when Jeremiah knocks on it. He grins at me, that smile I can’t quit. Back at Finch, I used to punish myself by running twice as long on the days when I got caught up in it; when I began dreaming and hoping like a madwoman, like the worst friend in the whole entire world. 

He pulls my door open and if the scent of the ocean was exciting before, it’s positively exhilarating when it swims to me in the shape of him. I’m wonderstruck, watching him smile at me like it’s his favourite thing to do. 

His frame fills the doorway. He’s taller than the car so he has to bend down to talk to me and when he does, I get a whiff of his cologne. I’m patient with myself as I inhale, careful not to stretch myself too far. He smells different now. More grown up, more a part of the summer around him. 

He leans one arm on the roof while I stay rooted in place. “Hey, stranger. Planning on staying in here forever?” 

Until I heard his voice in person again, I didn't realize how much I missed hearing it almost everyday. Even after their breakup and even after he took some time away, Jeremiah was always there. He hung out at our student house, invited us to parties at his frat, and studied with us in the library. He was a present figure in our lives – in Belly’s life – and that was what normal was. Every time we spoke on the phone afterwards, when he was living in Boston and then Cousins, I wished I could hear it live and not through a machine. 

What is a person supposed to do when their wish comes true?

“Huh? O-Oh, no. I was just taking it in.”

“Better from out here, I promise,” he jests, and then reaches in to grab the hiking bag at my feet. He shakes it curiously. “Packed light?”

“We’re only here for the weekend.” 

“And if you fall in love?”

“W-What?”

He chuckles, his humorous nature on display, but there is a shine to his eyes that wasn’t there a second ago. “I’m only teasing. Come on out. The lovebirds went inside already.”

A picture of calm, cool, and cheerful, Jeremiah hoists my bag over his shoulder as I step out of the car, remembering to lock it behind me. When I face him again, he asks, “Am I gonna to have to wrestle a hug from you or are you just gonna give it to me?”

I roll my eyes at him, then wrap my arms around his upper half. I’m hyper aware of the parts of my body which rest on his. I tense up, especially when his mouth moves down to my ear. 

“I missed you,” he says, voice low and steady. He leans back and smirks. “Your heart’s beating really fast.” 

“I’m just excited.” 

“Because of the house or me?” 

“Neither, idiot. I’m here for the beach.” To emphasize my point, I turn to stare in the direction of the thing mostly so I don’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Whoa, let's at least get inside the house before you start calling me names.” He throws an arm around me, the way guys do, and it manages to give me some peace as he leads me towards his home. This is what we promised, this is how we had quietly decided long ago that we would be: two pals from college. No history apart from the one we shared with all our other friends, too. “Come on. Let's go catch up.”

. . . 

Inside the house, Jeremiah guides me up the stairs and to his mother’s bedroom, which happens to be the furthest one down the hall. He turns the knob and pushes it open, smiling back at me as he goes, like this is a secret between us.

His mother’s bedroom is big. Bigger than any room I have ever seen. My parents’ bedroom in my childhood home had certainly never been as big as this room is. 

It has triple-pane windows and when you look out, there’s so much beach to see that it mesmerizes you. I try to imagine what summer mornings must have felt like in this room, waking up to the ocean next to you, and it makes my heart ache. 

The walls are painted white with wainscoting visible on two of them. There’s also a queen sized bed, side tables with two frilly lamps, a matching dresser with two bottles of perfume and a porcelain plate of gold jewelry on it, and an oval-shaped standing mirror next to the closet. I catch sight of myself in it and immediately reach for my hair. It’s a mess. My ponytail is sloppy and the zillion flyaways aren’t doing me any favours. I smooth over what I can get to. 

Jeremiah sets my hiking bag on the ground and lets out a hefty breath of air. “No one’s been in here for months, so I cleaned up what I could. Not sure about the dusting, though.”

All I can seem to murmur is, “You didn’t have to…” and after a second, I find myself saying, “It feels so different, being here again.” 

The quiet of the room suddenly strains with somewhere to run. I glance at Jeremiah, wanting to see his face despite how awkward I just made things. His smile is still present though a little dim. He casts his eyes over the room as I mumble out an apology. “Nah, it’s okay. It felt weird for me at first, too. I kept thinking about the shitshow that went down that summer and hating myself for letting it happen in my mom’s house.” He moves his gaze to a wall of photographs. “This place was her heaven on earth.”

“Do you visit her often?”

“Every weekend. I’m gonna visit her tomorrow.”

“I bet she loves that.”

He smiles but it quickly morphs into question. “Do you… want to come?”

“To visit your mom?”

“Yeah, if you want to.”

Do I? I don’t know. The only things I know about his mother are from the stories he used to tell us back at Finch. Stories that Belly often experienced and could add to. Sometimes, Jeremiah would start a story and Belly would finish it because she remembered stuff he didn’t. Or she would be halfway through a story and Jeremiah would tell us how his mom reiterated it to her friends later because it made her so happy. That shared history was a bond I could never know. If I go, will his mother be upset that I came instead of Belly? 

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “We’ll go before breakfast. We can pick up coffee and pancakes for the others on our way back.”

“You don’t want to ask them to come?”

“Mom already knows them. She’s only ever heard of you.”

The words make my heart hammer in my chest. Has she heard stories about me, too? 

“You’ve talked to your mom about me?” 

“‘Course I have. I tell her everything.” His eyes leave mine and pan to the wall of photographs again. “My mom was my best friend.”

His admission makes my heart dip. Tears spring to my eyes. Very quickly, I forget that none of this is about me. He visits his mother every weekend while I haven’t seen mine in months. The last time I went to Albany, I was so caught up in everything with my dad and getting back to Chicago for work, that it hadn’t occurred to me to go see her. But even if I had the time, what would I even say? Sorry, Mom. I’m doing worse than you could ever imagine and selfishly, I’m glad you’re not here to watch me crash and burn year after year. 

“Bec?”

His call of my name tugs me back to the conversation. Centres me, like an anchor. 

“Sorry. I was just remembering something.”

A look of understanding passes over his features, but he doesn’t interrogate me, and for that, I’m more thankful than he will ever know. The very last thing I want to do on this trip is talk to him about my mother. I don’t talk to anyone about her, not even dad. It’s better this way.

Jeremiah runs a hand through his hair, looks around, then says, “The bathroom is through that door over there,” he points to the one next to the closet, “and if you need anything, just holler.”

I jokingly salute him, he salutes me back, we laugh, and then he leaves me to take on the bedroom of a woman I have never known. 

. . . 

Jeremiah is lounging on the couch when I come downstairs. Taylor and Steven are nowhere to be seen. The TV is on and there is a scent of citrus in the air. I catch sight of an orange wall plug as I walk to the couch.

He throws me the remote as soon as I sit down. I smile. “I get remote privileges? Must be my lucky day.” Back in school, we fought over the remote all the time, ultimately giving it to whomever won Rock, Paper, Scissors. It was almost never me and I was convinced Jeremiah was rigging the game somehow because I refused to believe I was that terrible at the kids game. 

“Just pick something funny.” 

As soon as I start scrolling through Netflix, the door bell rings. Jeremiah rushes up to answer the door. I expect him to return with our friends but he drops two boxes of sizzling hot pizza on the coffee table instead. He says, “They found a Mexican joint Taylor wants to try so we’ll eat without them.” 

“They’re going to have tacos without us? The jerks.” I don’t really care about tacos, but having the two of them here would have been nice. We could watch a movie together like old times and more importantly, I wouldn’t have to be alone with Jeremiah. It’s consistently been a heartbreaking occurrence every time in the past. 

“But we get to have two whole boxes of pizza to ourselves,” he counters, nodding at them. “Check the second box.” 

I do as he instructs then let out an honest gasp of surprise. “No, you didn’t!” 

Jeremiah grins and hops back onto the couch, making it tremble under his weight. He sits close to me, our knees practically touching. When he reaches out for a slice, our knees do touch. He drops the food on my plate with a smack. “The JereBec Special.” 

The JereBec Special is a concoction bred from a sad sad-turned-happy night in my First Year at Finch.

It was a Friday evening. I had had a tennis match at 4 PM. Taylor found out about it and rallied the group to attend in support. I begged her in private not to, that I wasn’t happy with myself that day so I knew I was going to lose. She didn’t listen, like she often doesn’t. Belly even got me flowers. Jeremiah held up a poster he and Redbird had made. When I lost, it was the most humiliating experience in the world. I couldn’t look at my friends. I wanted the ground beneath me to open up and swallow me whole. 

Afterwards, Jeremiah invited everyone to his frat house. They were going to have a small party. BYOB. Belly asked me to go see a movie with Annika and Sarah, a romcom we had all been looking forward to. Taylor went on a date with Davis. I said no to everything and just went back to my dorm. I knew I was being mean, saying no to everyone’s attempts at getting me to be happy, but the truth was, I wasn’t happy and no amount of faking it would make me so. 

At first, I tried to listen to a podcast and do Sudoku puzzles. When that became boring, I grabbed my blanket and went to the TV room where luckily, no one was around. I put on Law and Order: SVU, sat back on the couch, and watched episode after episode for two hours straight. When I got hungry, I thought about grabbing the bag of chips from under my bed or perhaps going to the dining hall for an overpriced snack, but the door opening and Jeremiah’s voice calling my name stopped me. 

I looked up to find him walking up to the couch. I asked him why he was there and not at his party, and he said it got boring so he came here looking to hang out. When he couldn’t find me or Belly in our room, he asked one of the girls in the hall where I was and she told him I was here. 

He asked, “Are you hungry? Because I’m starving.”

“I could eat.” If I was honest, I wanted to tell him I could eat a feast. I wanted all the food in the world right then. Maybe if I ate my weight in rice or noodles, I could fend off some of the embarrassment I was feeling. “I have chips in my room.”

“Nah, I want pizza. We can order in.” 

I couldn’t afford pizza from a restaurant, but we could eat at the dining hall. I still had a lot of credits left. “Lets go to the dining hall,” I suggested, already standing up. “We can get ice cream after, too.” The idea piqued his interest and so off we went. 

The dining hall was mostly empty, with just a few stragglers here and there. Some people sat in a booth nursing a milkshake while others were typing away on their laptops. I led Jeremiah to the only booth which was still open at 9 PM – Walt’s Pizzeria. 

“We can get the medium pizza with two toppings,” I told my companion, who was looking at all the topping choices in awe.

“Man, stuff like this makes me wish I still lived in a dorm,” he told me. Then his eyes lit up. “What if we got six toppings?”

“Six…?” It’s not that I couldn’t afford it, but that it would be a waste. Why spend money on so many extra toppings when I could use it to buy us the best ice cream? But Jeremiah looked at me with stars in his eyes so I had no choice but to give in. “Sure. But I get to pick three and you can’t say no.” 

“Deal.” 

We shook on it and then he picked his first: caramelized onions, ground beef, and ricotta. I chose corn, roasted shrimp, and pepper jack. 

“Shrimp and corn? Really?” 

I shrugged. “Don’t judge the hand that’s feeding you.”

Jeremiah snorted. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

Much to our surprise, the pizza turned out to be really good. Delicious, even. We ate the whole thing in under an hour. We talked about our classes and how he wants to take Belly to France in the summer. “Paris. She can speak French, you know? It’ll be easy getting around.” 

I told him about taking a trip back to Albany to see my dad. He was dating a new woman and he really liked her. But it would have to be before I started my job at Wal-Mart. I didn’t want to take time off to go visit him when I was working full-time to afford my room off-campus. 

Jeremiah didn’t ask me about my failed tennis match even once. I could tell he wanted to a couple of times but he always found something else to talk about instead. I really appreciated that and after a while, I forgot all about it. All I could focus on was the amazing pizza and the person in front of me. 

The last time we had the JereBec Special was just before Jeremiah graduated. We didn’t have it alone either. Belly was in Spain, studying at the University of Barcelona, but everyone else was at home. We had a small party at Jeremiah’s frat house with his closest brothers. Everyone got really drunk and we spammed Belly with pictures so she wouldn’t feel left out. The two of them even spoke alone for a few minutes, off in the corner of the kitchen where the noise wasn’t as loud. They were still friends. They would always be friends, as Taylor put it. There was an entire childhood between them. Two years of dating and an almost wedding couldn’t delete that. 

“They’re really missing out,” I tell Jeremiah now, grabbing a slice to slap onto his plate, too. 

He grins. “Remember that time we ate so much of this stuff that we had a stomach ache for two days?” 

“How could I forget? I had to ask Annika to attend my lecture just so I could have notes for my exam.” I take a gigantic bite and say, “God bless that girl.”

“I heard she’s in Angola these days. What’s up with that?”

“Maybe she met someone?” We both giggle at that. Annika having a boyfriend is like pigs learning to fly. It just won’t happen. Not yet, anyways. She’s too focused on medicine. “I’m proud of her. She’s chasing her dreams.” 

“What about you?” 

I chew on a bite of pizza. “What about me?” 

“Has your dream changed since college?”

“Many, many times. Sometimes, I think I’ll be stuck in this rut of not knowing what I want to do with my life forever.”

Jeremiah nods understandingly. “I think if my Dad hadn’t forced me to work at his firm, I’d be the same way.”

“What happened to the Jeremiah I knew who wanted to surf and travel?”

He chuckles. “He’s still here… somewhere.”

“Well, promise me you’ll bring him out this weekend. I still don’t know how to swim.”

“What happened to taking classes?”

I don’t know how to tell him that I never had any money leftover to sign up. Instead, I just shrug. Better to be seen as busy than poor. “Schedule’s been tight this year.”

“And the year before that… and the year before that…”

I playfully punch his bicep then regret it instantly. Though football ended for him years ago, it’s clear he still works out. His biceps are firm and strong, like nothing has changed since he was twenty years old. “Okay, smart ass. You don’t need to remind me that I’m constantly in survival mode.”

“You know you don’t have to be.” He bites down on his own slice of pizza, thinking for a minute. “We’re hiring. You could apply.”

“At your dad’s bank?”

“Sure. If you know how to work a computer, you can be an administrator.” A smile plays on his mouth, taking us back to yet another memory. 

“That was one time!”

“Who doesn’t know how to use print screen, Bec?!”

“I never needed to know until that time!” 

“Excuses, excuses.” He reaches out and touches my chin, wiping something away. I stiffen and he says, in that same low voice he used on the driveway, “Same old, Rebecca Mederos, wasting perfectly good Italian pizza sauce.”

That moment from before returns. That quiet hum of yearning, of asking what if? 

Over the years, I have taken these moments and stored them in memory jars in my mind, too afraid to even jot them down in a diary. With him, there is a consistent fear. Fear of the past, fear of mistakes, fear of hurting someone we both care about. It’s ugly, knowing I still want him despite everything. 

His lips part and he gets ready to say something, something to feed the silence I can’t stand, so I cut in with, “Is this a serious offer or are you just pulling my leg?”

“I’m being one hundred and ten percent serious.”

I bite down on my lip, thinking it over. “How would this even work? Do I apply on LinkedIn or come in with my resume?”

Jeremiah eats some more of his pizza, the crust crunching under his teeth. “HR is small right now. Just one girl – Maggie. Come into the office on Monday and drop off your resume. I’ll ask Maggie to expedite an interview with our manager.”

My heart lifts, starting to sing a hopeful song. “Jere, that’s… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” 

“If they hire you, you’d have to move here. They expect us to be in the office three times a week.”

Although I expected as much, given the scarcity of work from home jobs even in major cities, it suddenly hits me that if I accept this new path that is being laid out for me, I will have to forgo my plans of moving back home and being closer to Dad. I thought I would stay with Steven and Taylor until I had something solid in Albany, but Cousins isn’t that far. Four hours. I could take a bus or if this job offers a decent enough salary, I can start setting aside money for a car. It’s been so long since I last drove a car. 

Albany or Cousins… Albany… or Cousins… 

The answer comes to me just as Jeremiah finishes off his slice. “I’ll start looking for a place as soon as they hire me.” 

Jeremiah grins and reaches out for another slice of pizza. For the next few hours, we talk and eat and drink so much soda that my teeth begin to hurt. I’ll have to brush my teeth extra well before bed tonight. I can’t even imagine adding “visit a dentist” to my to-do list right now. 

By the time Steven and Taylor return from dinner, they’re exhausted and head up to bed with Steven promising Jeremiah that they’ll play video games tomorrow. Taylor says “shopping” to me and I laugh, excited to see what the shops in town have to offer. 

Then Jeremiah and I begin cleaning up, too, moving around the living room picking up half-empty pizza boxes because our older selves just don’t have the stamina for that much pizza anymore. He’s light on his feet as he packs up what’s left and sticks it in the fridge for later, stuffing the boxes in a recycling container at the end. I wipe down the coffee table and set the cushions right. The room looks exactly like how I found it. 

“So…” Jeremiah says, walking in as I’m setting a timer on my phone for tomorrow. “Any chance you wanna go down to the beach?”

“Right now?” 

“Yup.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see.”

And see, I did. Because when we got out there, with a blanket and something to lay down on, the stars were out. Hundreds and hundreds of stars shining in the sky. We watched an airplane fly through, too, making guesses about where it was taking the passengers.

“Greece.”

“Morocco.”

“China.”

“Scotland.”

Jeremiah lets out a bark of laughter. “I was gonna say that!”

“Too slow.”

“Guess I am.”

We stay quiet after that, for a long moment. It’s just us and a world of stars above. I almost think he’s fallen asleep when suddenly, I hear him say, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you.”

“I…” 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know it.” 

I let out a breath. “I missed you, too. A lot.” 

“Is that why you didn’t call?”

“Jere…” 

“I’m just asking. Friends call each other, but you never call me. I’m lucky if I get a text back.”

“I was just… going through some stuff. I didn’t think you wanted to hear me talk about all the crap in my life.”

He turns on his side to look at me while I stay rooted in my spot, staring up so I don’t do something stupid like kiss him. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends. Aren’t we?”

“We are.” 

“So then?

I shrug. “Bad coping mechanism.”

“Yeah, it is. It makes me feel bad, too, just so you know.” 

That makes me snort and then he’s turning on his side again. I breathe out a sigh of relief, but the stress-free atmosphere is short lived.

“Out of everyone I ever met at Finch, you’re my favourite. I thought I was yours, too.” 

I can’t help myself when I blurt, “You are.” 

Jeremiah settles in some more, the sand beneath him softly shuffling. “Good.” 

We don’t talk after that and end up falling asleep on the beach, only to scramble up in the morning, laughing to ourselves as we head inside to wash up, feeling like little kids who have so much to look forward to. The funny thing is, I think we really do.

[spell-cleaver]

Portrait of an Empire

Angstober

Day 5: Do Better

“It isn’t good enough, Lord Vader.”

Sheev hadn’t given him permission to, but Vader rose from his kneeling position anyway to better look up at his master. They glared at each other.

“I know how to get through to my own son,” Vader bit out, his vocoder spitting static at certain points.

“Then why does he flinch from using the dark side?” Sheev demanded. “Why, when he has lived his whole life in it, embraced by it, cohabits perfectly happily with us in the Force, does he refuse to engage with it himself? We both understand the effort it takes in a place such as this”—he gestured to the palace at a whole—“to use anything else. The two of us have worked to make this the centre of our empire, and the centre of our power. So why does Luke not use that?”

Vader said nothing for several rotations of his respirator. “He is stubborn,” he said at last.

“We both know that intimately, Vader.”

“He does not want to!”

Vader’s hands were balled into fists. He looked up at Sheev, on his royal dais, and he looked so small.

“He dislikes pain. In everyone��not just himself. He cannot understand that it is necessary.”

“Then draw on his anger instead. His fear that people will get hurt—”

“He fights it,” Vader parried. “He has anger. We have both sensed it. And while he has little to fear, it is no stranger to him, either. But hatred is a less familiar beast.”

“Hatred is taught. In fact, it is your job to teach him.”

“How? We cannot make him hate us.”

They both paused, staring at each other. It was true, what Vader alluded to. The Sith training technique was effective in one consistent way: to teach someone hatred, you had to direct it. And even if that target was someone else—for young Anakin, the Jedi, the Tuskens, the Separatists and slavers; for young Sheev, his own family, and the inferior beings of the galaxy—the ability to hate was a flexible skill. It always bent backwards, until it was focused solely on the teacher.

That was the way of the Sith. The apprentice must kill the master, in the end.

“The way you hate me,” Sheev said.

“I will not do to him what you did to me.”

They were enormous words; it must have taken Vader—poor, terrified Anakin—enormous courage to say them. What did it mean that his passion brought them forth now?

The forging of Darth Vader had indeed been brutal. A decade of poisonous whispers, of feeding his natural fears and dislikes. Neither of them had flinched from that with Luke, but the truth was that Luke had fewer of them. Anakin Skywalker had been a slave; Luke Skywalker was a prince. There was no danger in his life; no assassination attempt had ever penetrated the shield that was his father’s obsession with protecting him. No courtier would dare despise or insult him—he was too close to power for them to risk it. Some had been subtler, certainly, and as a confused child it had upset him. But that well was already poisoned, the residue long since settled at its base. Luke knew who he disliked at court, and he knew they were not important enough to worry about.

The Rebels, then? He had never met them. Never so much as heard of them, other than the large names: Mon Mothma, Saw Gerrera… He was too young and naïve. He thought he was invincible.

How, then, did they twist him?

And why did he fight their attempts?

“It could save his life one day,” Sheev said, to keep the conversation going while he pondered.

“It would kill him.”

That too was true.

Once he had created Darth Vader, Sheev had poured all the cruelty into him that he could. His training had been violent and demeaning. His suit was designed to perpetuate the lesson. Every time Vader breathed, he remembered his master’s power over him; he remembered the lessons of the Sith. His life had been misery already; Sheev just gave him the physical pain to accompany his emotional pain at all he had lost. All he had failed to protect.

In Vader, Sheev had created a crown jewel in the treasury of the Sith.

Luke had the potential to be one as well. If only Vader would raise his hand to strike.

“I will not do it,” Vader repeated.

And, Sheev realised with horror, neither would he.

What difference was there? Luke was only six or seven years younger than his father had been when he’d brutalised him in that way. He was even better suited to take it, in fact, not pre-emptively undermined by his own foolish injuries. The result would be glorious. A Sith Prince to defend the Empire, bloody blade in hand, more power in his fingertip than in the entire Starfleet. A few scars was a small price to pay for such a wonder.

A few scars, and the inevitably of Luke’s hatred.

Sheev thought of that: thought of Luke turning to him, the affection beaten from his body, with one familiar thing burning in his golden eyes. He thought of the scars that would litter his face. He thought of how that would upend their lives—the life that, right now, Sheev had found himself enjoying.

“If you do not,” Sheev said, “then I will.”

Sheev was a very good liar. Vader stiffened. Good—Sheev’s mind was still racing in dismay.

There would be another way to teach Luke hatred, surely. There were so many enemies to point him out. So much they could achieve by pitting him against them. He was sure there had to be another way—

But the fact that the Emperor Sheev Palpatine, Master of the Sith, needed another way was disgusting.

Why did he cringe from doing what was necessary? What threat was this?

A threat, he realised. That was all that it was: a threat. To him. To his empire. To the Sith themselves.

“I will give you a month to improve his training,” Sheev said. “After that…”

He squared his shoulders. His own hatred, a faithful dog at his side, reared its head inside his chest and sniffed the air. It growled—and for the first time, it growled in Luke’s direction.

Sheev steepled his fingers. “I will do what must be done.”

[farmerbebop]

Can you talk more at all about Mcgoohan and The Prisoner, I followed you for the art but now I want the tea. Admittedly, I know zero about Mcgoohan or his work outside of recognizing him from TCM reruns.

Thank you for the question and for enjoying this blog.

McGoohan was an enigma, and so was The Prisoner. Almost everyone who has ever tried to explain The Prisoner ended up saying more about themselves than about its creator.

Generally, everyone agrees that McGoohan was a rebel, but no one really knows when it started. Probably very early, because his daughter once mentioned he got a scholarship to a prestigious school in England called Ratcliffe (he was from a working class background and grew up on a farm in Ireland) and then immediately said "He hated it, but he went, because he had to." The only good thing about it was that he learned boxing there.

The official story always starts with something like: He worked multiple jobs before becoming a self-taught actor (he was the stage manager and one day the actor was sick) when it should start with his childhood in the countryside. Even though he always seemed like someone who could hold the sky up if it fell down, it's also well-known that he was a hopeless romantic, and his childhood was probably responsible for that.

Anyway fast forward to a rainy night in England, when the Lyric Theatre was dead silent after his performance of Brand because the audience forgot how to breathe, or to clap. He got off stage and told his wife his performance wasn't good enough and she agreed. His co-star later said those two people were the only ones in the world who could see something wrong in such a performance.

He soon moved on to TV. He agreed to do this spy show, even though he disliked the whole James Bond thing. The producer realized that too late. He was already changing scripts on the spot. No womanizing, no kissing, no gun (well, in a few cases there were guns but they hardly did anything). Some big boss from the US flew over to tell him they wanted more sex and violence. He told the guy to fuck off.

That was Danger Man. If I get a dime for everytime a woman fainted over John Drake, I would be a millionaire. At some point during my first watch of it, I started hearing music when he walked. Literally.

John Drake was a spy with a moral standard. It was McGoohan's work. He gave the public a hero in every sense of the word. But he made sure John Drake was always interesting. After all, he happened to be one of the greatest actors ever lived.

Then he got tired of it. Of course that was not good for the network. He was the biggest TV star in the UK.

So he told them he could do another show. And it was The Prisoner.

Oh before that, I must mention that he got married early in his life, was in love with his wife until the day he died, wrote her love notes everyday and occasionally got soft meat thrown at him during their fights.

So he made The Prisoner, basically did almost everything. Was very angry at times, probably slept like 4 hours a day, went through several nervous breakdowns. His co-star Leo McKern didn't go through "Once Upon a Time" unscathed either. According to McGoohan: "He'd truly cracked."

The Prisoner was McGoohan's baby. No one in the crew was allowed to mention the word television. He wanted it to be more than that. He made sure it was of the highest quality. It was his vision that carried the whole show.

It was about an ex-spy called Number Six. No one knows what he did, only that he resigned. People still argue whether or not he is John Drake. To me, no one really knows who John Drake really is, and so Number Six could as well be John Drake. After all, what is the difference beside that Number Six has a past and John Drake doesn't?

Number Six was kidnapped to the Village, where the Village authority (the Number Twos) tried everything to extract information out of him. They wanted to know why he resigned. And he wouldn't tell them that.

And then there's Number One, who gives out order to the Number Twos, hires and fires them at will. No one knows who Number One is. But in order to get out of the Village, Number Six will eventually have to face them.

This show gives you complete freedom from the very start. It will ignite your imagination. It was a marvelous feeling.

It doesn't coax you into liking Number Six, it doesn't even tell you who he is. But when you see the fire burning in his eyes, when you hear the thunder in his voice, when you see him walking up and down his room like a lion in a cage, you will understand why you are here with him.

The Village is a mirror of our modern world. The Prisoner predicted so many things we are seeing now. And yet, it feels so new, so strange, so fresh. It was like seeing the inner workings of McGoohan's mind laid out before our eyes, the beauty of its dreams and the horror of its nightmares.

I think you need to watch it completely open-minded, let it change you, and it will let itself be changed by you.

Its conclusion drove some people mad. They couldn't accept it, they wanted a Bond-like ending. They couldn't handle McGoohan's 'absurd' ending. He went from being the highest paid actor in the UK to someone who hid from the angry public in a place with no telephone.

Fame. Money. Status. All of that gone over night. But we know by now that he wasn't someone who cared about that.

But I think he wanted it to reach its audience, to reach future generations. He wanted to leave something behind for eternity.

He was so ahead of his time. And if he was still alive, he would still be ahead of our time.

I could go on forever but I only slept like 4 hours last night so I'd better stop before I start talking more nonsense. All of my followers know they should take whatever I say about McGoohan with a grain of salt. My only motto is: the only ones I shall make fun of on here are McGoohan and myself.

[anamericangirl]

The most frustrating part of the discussion about drug shows, LGBTQ, pedophiles, and kids is how quickly leftists will change the subject to religion.

1: This drag queen who does a reading hour was found with CP on his computer.

2: There are pedophiles in churches too!

1: I'm aware of that. If there was a pedophile priest I would bring it to your attention too. I'm not talking about something that happened years, or months ago or any hypothetical pedos who still haven't been caught. I'm talking about what was reviled this morning.

2: You Christians are always demonizing poor LGBTQ people, making them look like they're after your kids. Deal with pedophiles in Churches first!

1: First of all, it's not only Christians who have problems with kids being taught LGBTQ and Drag Queens. Those things are obviously sexual. Talking about who you prefer in bed. Talking about changing your privet parts. ''Feeling'' like another gender. It confuses kids! That's why there is so many LGBT youth who later regret transitioning. Second of all, we are dealing with all kinds of pedophiles everywhere at the same time. There is no ''deal with it first''. There always be another one of these people. If we're only allowed to talk about pedophiles in LGBT spaces after we deal with pedos in Churches we will never get to talk about it. And even if by any chance we did succeed there would be no telling because of all the hypothetical pedos that can still be there. Also, why do you only bring the Christian religion? What about other religions that don't support LGBTQ? And what about religions that practice marriage between children and adults, actually, plain to see pedophilia?

2: So you're not only homophobic but also racist!?!

1: Religion is not a race!

2: Here, I found an article about a pedophile priest just a day ago. I will vandalize local Churches which have nothing to do with this guy.

1: What? Why? How will it help? If you're worried about children being abused why don't you just observe people around them and look for something suspicious?

2: The unfortunate truth is there always be pedophiles where kids are. Predator follows its prey. I don't think they go out of their way to work at a senior home instead of a school. Speaking of which there is much more pedophile teachers. Will be just as passionate about getting rid of them from schools as you are about getting them out of Churches?

1: I don't want to get rid of them from the Churches. I want Churches and Christianity gone.

2: By that logic, should we get rid of public schools?

1: I don't care about logic. I care about feelings, MY FEELINGS regarding hating anything Christian and loving anything ''progressive''. I use children to guilt trip you into agreeing with me.

A pedophile is a pedophile! Stop protecting them because they belong to your group! It makes that group look terrible.

That's a pretty solid break down of the problem here. Instead of just acknowledging the pedophiles in their own group when they are discovered they just deny, deny, deny and immediately just turn it onto christianity for some reason and find a news article about someone child molester from a church as if that makes a point against the pedos in their own camp.

And the thing is we're not even denying that some people in the churches are pedophiles. There are pedos everywhere and what we need to do is remove them, not act like they aren't there or just shrug and go "well I found one in your group too!!" Uh good job?? Let's get rid of them both.

Instead of trying to find who has more pedos we should just be able to unite on expelling them. Not denying the problem and trying to shift the focus elsewhere.

[dufferpuffer]

Dufferpuffer Lupin fiend… I want to know what you think: do you think Lyall knew about the Order of the Phoenix? Do you think he knew what his son got up to after graduation?

I believe he’d be very eager to support his son (financially, offering him a home), and Remus would be very eager to decline that support - but would he eventually say “it’s fine dad, I actually don’t need a job because I’ve been camping out at my rich friend’s house, which became a headquarters for a guerrilla, which I fight for full time, so don’t worry about me”?

I have a small obsession with Lyall and I am a Lyall survivalist (I believe he lived to bury his son). The reason for my obsession is because I hate the old overused children’s adventure trope of dead parents! I think it’s delicious to try to make sense of a relationship that could be very complex and problematic.

Could he have been someone like Andromeda and Ted, not an order member, but a distant supporter? Or would he disapprove completely? Or would he be completely ignorant?

it is I, the Loopy Lupin Fiend I too am a Lyall Survivalist - I wrote a little thing ages ago, just a tiny little story about Lyall walking up to accept Remus' Merlin of Honor on his behalf while being haunted by what he has said about werewolves in the past. Just a silly thing :) Maybe needs a rewrite idk, i'm no writer. I'm a yapper. I yap.

Remus is the sort of man who cuts off those he cares about most. If it weren't for the war he would have NEVER spoken to Harry, Sirius, Albus... anyone ever again. He would have fled when Tonks showed any amount of love for him. He would have fled Arthur's unwavering support and Molly's kindness despite her fears and prejudice.

He would have held their positive feelings in his heart like treasured memories and not dared ruin them with the disappointment he would surely bring. Leave them happy.

That is what I think he did to his father. He 'killed' his mother, after all. Just a sweet accepting Muggle, and she died earlier than she should - after his childhood left her thin and weak from stress. (of course he DIDN'T kill her, but the stress parents show when looking after disabled children... it hurts us. Speaking as a disabled child, it hurts a lot seeing parents suffer from being unable to help. it feels like it is our fault for being unwell, confusing and hard. Remus is the type to REALLY blame himself.)

He didn't want to put financial or social strain on his father, who already would have been a target: Specializing in the study of Boggarts and Dementors and such - the exact Dark Creatures Death Eaters use... alongside the fact he insulted Fenrir personally...

I don't think Remus told him shit. I think Remus cut contact completely, at least for the war - maybe, hesitantly, letting his dad know he was alive afterwards... But the best thing he can do for the people he loves is let them live without him - and I think he truly loves and idolizes his dad. He knows Dementors inside and out, and the first think he caught and taught at Hogwarts was Boggarts. His dads specialty.

I think Lyall would be supportive of the whispers of an 'Order of the Pheonix', a secret group maybe perhaps curated by Dumbledore. An underground illegal militia working outside the Ministry. He may have worked with the ministry himself sometimes - but he has seen their incompetence first-hand and experienced their lack of support for the most vulnerable in society.

But if he knew Remus was a part of it all he would do was worry, even if he was proud of his son... so Remus wouldn't tell him. If anything - just let him know he was safe and well (even if its a lie) and he wasn't being pulled in by Fenrir's nonsense.

I like to think he wrote to Lyall telling him he was going to work at Hogwarts. Albus hired him - he was going to be a professor!!! That every time he wrote to his dad it was good news, and Lyall treasured the fleeting contact with his son - even if he knew if he ever wrote back "Come see me sometime!!!" Remus wouldn't respond.

[s10127470]

As I'm sure many of know, it was announced this week that the Max original animated series, Velma, has been officially cancelled after two seasons and a Halloween special.

And the entire Internet collectively went.....

And rightfully so.

Velma was truly a one of kind show.

It was the thing that brought just about everyone....

From all walks of life....

From all cultural backgrounds....

Together. To all collectively say...

"This is legitimately one of the worst things to ever be created by a human being."

Just about everyone has gone over everything wrong with this show, as it's flaws are blatantly obvious to anyone over the age of 10.

The mystery and story is bare bones and a total joke, with hardly any effort put into it.

The humor is an unholy amalgamation of all the worst styles that have been plaguing tons of media for the last decade.

From ha-ha funny man quips, to pop culture references, to everyone's favorite.....META HUMOR!

In the words of my GOAT Cartoonshi.....

"The Marvel Cinematic Universe and Rick and Morty and their consequences have been quite disastrous for the human race."

The show prioritizes an agenda over the actual story.

And even then, it's done so half-assed and with little to no sincerity.

It's social commentary is borderline offensive and is often years to DECADES behind the curve.

Its characters are either bland, terrible, annoying, or in the case of Velma herself, The Anti-Christ.

And most importantly of all, it's a DISGUSTINGLY spiteful show.

Like, I've seen shows and movies made out of pure incompetence.

I've seen MANY made out of pure greed.

But I've never seen a show or a movie made purely out of spite.

Like, this series is just dripping with disdain towards the Scooby-Doo IP and the even medium of the animation as a whole.

And with all that considered, you can't help but wonder....

Why was this show made?

It's pretty clear that the people behind this show hate Scooby-Doo, so why are they even trying to make a series based on the IP then?

Well....

If The Witcher, Rings of Power, and She-Hulk: Attorney at Law has taught me anything, people in Hollywood have these vendettas against popular IPs for some reason and wanna spite people for liking them.

So they create pretty half-assed and unfaithful adaptations of the work because they love seeing the fans of those IPs getting angry at them.

I know that sounds dumb, but this is Hollywood we're talking about.

But anyway, pretty much everyone on the face of the Earth was happy to know this piece of shit was finally dead.

Made even better with the fact that the series ended with Velma literally DYING and getting her soul sent to Hell.

If there's one thing you give the show, it at least had a happy ending.

But back on topic, people were celebrating about Velma being over.

Except for a few individuals.

Yes. There are a few individuals who have a problem with people celebrating the cancellation.

And guess where this is all happening.

You guessed it, it's Twitter.

Because of course it is.......

Where else can you find people having a problem with something actually good and positive?

As for why those individuals have an issue with people celebrating the cancellation of Velma, it's because of the fact that the artists and animators on that show are now out of a job and basically we're celebrating these people losing their jobs.

Okay, I have some things in response to this.

If there's one good thing about Velma, it was that it had really good art direction.

The character designs and art-style were really strong and dynamic, the animation was solid throughout the series, and the backgrounds were really pleasant to look at.

It's pretty clear that the artists and animators on this show were very talented.

Wished their talents were used for a much better show....

Also, I can kinda see why this would look bad.

The animation industry has been in a very turbulent place lately.

And one of the many reasons for it has been the mistreatment, overworking, and underpayment of animators and artists.

So celebrating the cancellation of a show does seem like a dick move.

Even if the show is terrible, at least the artists and animators are getting work.

However, in typical Twitter fashion, I feel like they've blown this whole situation out of proportion.

And the reason I say this.....well, allow me to introduce you to Lauren Mattson.

She's an artist based in Burbank, California, who currently works at Warner Bros. Animation.

Just this Wednesday, YouTuber Saberspark had posted a video on the recent announcement of Velma's cancellation.

And among the comments, one of them was from her.

Essentially, she revealed that was part of the crew that worked on Velma for entirety of the series.

And she did confirm that Velma was in fact over and done with, as the execs at WB have their minds on other things right now.

But the thing that really caught my eye was that Lauren said that she's glad the show is gone.

She pointed out how in spite of the friendly production crew and the surprisingly good work schedule, working on this show was a total chore.

Though she didn't really go into detail on why besides having to sit through the animatic reviews.

And I honestly think she doesn't really need to.

Why?

IT'S FUCKING VELMA.

It's flaws are just that apparent.

Like, I already had the suspicion that nobody besides Mindy and her circlejerk of writers actually enjoyed working on this show.

But this essentially confirmed it for me.

And if you want to bring up the problem of the artists and animators being out of a job, well.....

According to Lauren, she and rest of the crew have already moved on to other projects.

So yeah.....this cancellation is not really as bad or disgusting as Twitter keeps trying to make it out to be.

Like, the artists and animators have already moved on other projects, so I don't see the problem here.

And even then, out of all the shows that got cancelled in recent years, why are people pulling the whole "artists and animators losing their jobs" card for VELMA of all things?!

I don't even recall seeing this for shows like Inside Jobs or The Owl House.

You know, shows that were actually good and liked by the majority of the Internet.

And even among the seas of bad shows, I've never anyone pull this card for shows like The Prince or Santa, Inc.

Which may I remind you, both of which were cancelled after just one season.

Hell, the latter of the two was essentially canned the moment it premiered.

But anyway, that's all I have for now.

I know this wasn't exactly the most structured, but remember, I was trying to make sense out of something from Twitter.

That already speaks for itself.

[starzzmissthesun]

For marauders fandom:

Ships- Xeno/James, Evan/Lily, Sirius/Evan

Characters: Xeno (Lovegood), sybill (trelawney), and Emmeline (Vance)

Hmmmm.... These are like RARE PAIRS if I've ever seen em. (Also btw I'm not big on multi shipping purely cause I get real set on things😭, so this is DEF. biased) (also sorry because I do dis all of these ships😭but i DID say honest) (also please don't take this too seriously 🙏these are just to me, I don't care what other people ship)

so for xeno/James...i honestly don't even know how that dynamic would work. To me, they would just be in VERY different worlds. James is in the typical(and I hate to say the marauders are this) "class clown", overly loud, " popular ", very likeable and conventional group, and xeno is in with the outcast people, almost opposite. I see how that could be fun, but I personally think xeno would want someone who has similar thinking and eccentricity(‼️) as him, while James is more arrogant and would scoff towards it. Not to say he'd be rude to them, just finding it weird and talking about it with his friends. I also just think that's not the kind of group or person James would find interesting to start with. The only way I even see them meeting is because Peter (to me) is friends with Sybill and she's friends with xeno. Overall I'd rate it a 2/10, it's not BAD or anything, its not against the characters morals or completely unlikely, its just a VERY far reach for me, out of sight.

Evan/lily: I DO think the Evan(s) is really funny I have to admit😭 BUT I think the main aesthetic I've seen of them (and bartylily) is always very booktok-y of like, bad boy with angst falls for smart-snarky girl who also has angst, and I just can't get behind it. ESPECIALLY in canon because I think Evan was a pretty die hard DE and lily was muggleborn and fought so hard against it. And not in canon, I picture lily to want the typical home-y life, she wants to get a beautiful house, befriend the neighbors, have a classic wedding, have kids, get a nice job she loves, and with her highs and lows her life is beautiful. Meanwhile Evan is peak FREAK behaviour, will never live that kind of life lily would want. The thing I DO think they would have in common would be their curiosity and experiments. lily loved potions and was great at it, she wanted to undo things and see how they work to create something new. Evan likes to undo and figure things out for the destruction, he enjoys the process a million times more than the result unless the result is decay, unending destruction. Overall a 3.5/10, I see it, I get WHY people would like it, just doesn't work for me and my ideas of these characters.

Sirius/Evan:um...i don't even really see anything there for them? I suppose the rosiers and blacks grew up with eachother, but I can't see why Sirius would ever be interested in any of regulus' little friends. As an older sibling myself (and it's probably different for some) I could only ever see my sibling's friends as an extension of my sibling. I also think (especially in canon) Sirius would see Evan as someone SO adjacent to the rest of the Blacks and the Rosiers, and in my idea of Sirius, he would completely stray from and genuinely not have any interest in someone like that. And I think Evan would be bored of him, I think he would figure Sirius out real quick when they were kids and crave an enigmatic aspect to his partner. This one's a 1/10, I genuinely don't think they would even LIKE each other that much.

(Once again, take that with a grain of salt🙏)

Xeno... Xeno, xeno, xeno.... Being honest I love him sm. (Someone who has REALLY good xeno thoughts is @florsial , so if you want more constructed thoughts go there) He's very odd, not just weird airheaded way, but just Is. Like they are just. The peculiarness is not taught or learned or developed, he just popped out with a different way of being, his thoughts will forever be a mystery of how they appear. I really like the HC that they're Lucius' younger brother. Such a fancy family, his brother immediately fitting into the socialite he's meant to be, meanwhile xeno is outcasted. He just. Cant. Understand these people and what the whole purpose is. He carries this huge imagination that he looses himself in, dreams become prophesies, "what ifs?" become reality, anything they want will be true. And they back it up, too. He is prime example of conformation bias.

Sybill Trelawny! Shes very very sensitive, very sweet. But!!! She is judgey, very gossipy, especially when it comes to her practice, if you don't believe her get outta here!! She knows what she sees, she doesn't doubt herself after a past of ignoring her visions. Ultimately frazzled and anxious, constantly running back and forth from door to door, something's lost? She doesn't know! Shes very very smart and logical, just not in the typical way, she applies it to her interests only, not any of the other stuff since it would be just useless to her. Shes trained herself to be very very good at connecting the dots and figuring things out (whether they have substance or not).

And Emmeline Vance.. I gonna be honest I don't know much about her because I don't see much about her, just her name is mentioned. From what I gather, shes very smart and preppy, in the "popular" group. Her relationship with the Valkyries varies in different accounts, but I personally think between 1st-4th year her group and theirs did not like each other and were almost catty (typical middle school drama), but she eventually got closer with them, and they with her. I think her ship with Mary is really cute from what I've seen!

Anyways! Thanks for the ask!!!!!(despite my first half being VERY opinionated)

[liquidluckandstuff]

In the Snape character meme ask thing you said Hogwarts has really gone to the dogs, and that you have opinions about it👀👀

Can you elaborate on it pls? I'm really curious👀👀👀👀

This is coming from a real world place not a fantasy place. As in "If a school like Hogwarts really existed."

First off, there are a lot of teachers like Professor McGonagall or Flitwick who are very very good at their jobs. Great. Fantastic.

But then you have teachers like Hagrid or Trelawney or even Snape who very clearly know their craft, but are absolute shit at teaching it.

This is why I HATE it when people think "Oh if you can't do, teach" because they think it's easy. It's very clearly NOT.

You have Hagrid whose heart is in the right place, and who knows what kind of experience, teaching all these kids about magical animals. There is no denying he loves what he does, and for some animals is very experienced but why does he keep teaching about the same animal all year? Skrewts, unicorns, nifflers and thats all we really hear about.

A lot of those are because he HAD to to get Umbridge off his back. Part of being a teacher is keeping student interest and doing the same thing over and over again makes them bored. They were very CLEARLY bored in his class and they themselves didn't think he was a very good teacher.

So now you have this man teaching them about something he clearly doesn't know much about, or at least HOW to teach it and these kids have to take these super important tests that could determine their fates in the wizarding world?

Hagrid clearly doesn't understand the pressure they are under because he never took a test like that himself.

Then, you have Trelawney who kind of just skirts on by with her lessons. These students are clearly faking their understanding and getting away with it for a number of reasons.

But mainly its because she doesn't know how to follow up with her teachings. She teaches it, has them do it, and then her corrections don't have any solid structure other than "Well you don't have the inner eye" which basically can translate to in the real world "You didn't get it the way I taught it the first time there must be something wrong with YOU not with the way I taught."

Honestly, part of me liked that umbridge had her leave the school. She herself could not provide one shred proof that she could do the things she claimed. Because if she WAS a good teacher, her students would have been able to put into practice the things she taught.

(I mean fuck umbridge but we are comparing to good teaching practices here. She "teaches", most of the students cannot do what she taught unless they have a natural talent, therefore she isn't really a good teacher) Sure those kids love her, but love doesn't help them pass those O.W.Ls

And finally Snape.

He is a MASTER at his craft. A POWERFUL wizard.

and he HATES children. Start there and how on earth does that make him a good teacher? He has the same problem that Trelawney has. Teach it and expect them to get it but if they don't they are idiots? And this dude actually insults them.

The environment he created is already working against him. Students do NOT learn well in an environment where they do not feel comfortable in and how are these kids supposed to be comfortable with a man who will insult them for anything?

He is literally just there because Dumbledore wants him there. Then, when does he actually offer remedial potions to anyone other than Harry? and even then it isn't real? Who would WANT to go to remedial potions with him when they aren't comfortable with it?

I would take that failing grade and a howler from my mom if it meant i didn't have to spend any more time with him.

So you have this unwelcoming environment with a man who is LOOKING to insult you (if you aren't in Slytherin but even then you might not be safe) and you better get his lesson down right the first time because otherwise there will be hell to pay.

The students who do learn do it out of fear, or get help from an outside source (like Hermione). And while I do love it when people work together like that it should NOT be how they are learning the content. That gets me PISSED.

That is horrible teaching because what is the POINT of a teacher being in a classroom at that point if the students are the ones doing all that work constantly? He isn't even monitoring them very well if that's all he is there for.

Sure there are classes where they do that but like.. that is the point of that class. There is also a lot of freedom in those sorts of classes to learn what you want to learn. But those kids? With all that pressure and having to do that for so long?

No no. It's not Snape that is a good teacher, those kids who do work hard and make those good grades on their O.W.Ls that is ALL on them. ALL their hard work and dedication. Snape just bullied them into it and sat back and got to take the credit.

Anyway. I really really hate a lot of the teaching styles at Hogwarts.

[prettyshon10]

Good for everyone finding enjoyment in the new alive action show.

Personally, as it stands right now, I have no drive the finish the season. It’s not bad; I can say that much. There’s quite a bit that I like about it.

However, I really wish this show (and many other media pieces nowadays) would trust its audience and pace itself with an actual story and character development. Apparently the writing feels like it has to constantly tells us things instead of showing us. Not to mention the story is pushing ahead to aspects and events without any proper build up. Why did we have to see a vision of the fire nation invading the water tribe in the second episode? Can we get there first?

It feels like when your English teacher assigns a project and emphasizes that instead of just regurgitating information to prove that you know the unit just taught, you need to integrate that information into the work. Telling me things about the lore doesn’t impress me; show me you understand the core of the show by the expression of the story.

It’s the same with the characters. I wouldn’t necessarily say that they’re flat, but they don’t evoke too much emotion from me, and it’s because the writing is allergic to depth.

Which brings me to my next issue: the changes.

Look, I’m not the kind of fan who whines and complains about an adaptation changing things from the original source. I completely understand why that is, and there are quite a few instances where I love it (Shadowhunters and Percy Jackson tv series, for example). But in those instances, the changes were able to bring something to the table. They did well by the characters and the overall story. The changes I’ve seen so far with this show do nothing but make me ask “Why?” Why remove Aang running away from home, which serves as his guilt and shame? Why rework his skills and talents in airbending to be something he’s afraid of? Why make the driving force to get to the North Pole to prevent more bloodshed from an incoming attack when there was already a driving force to get there (learning water bending)? Why Kiyoshi in place of Roku? How does any of these changes add something to the characters? How does any of these changes elevate the story being told? Because I don’t feel like I gained anything new as a viewer.

Take away the fact that this is an adaptation. As its own show, I just don’t feel like it’s done a good enough job validating its existence and inciting me to want to watch more of it. Even for wanting to “appeal to Game of Thrones fans”, it misses the mark. Game of Thrones (up until the last couple of seasons) had incredible build up and depth of the story and characters at play. There was trust in the audience and in the journey. That’s why fans were so pissed with how it ended.

Also, I understand that this adaptation is “geared towards adults, not kids”. While I would argue that the original animation lands great with adults even 19 years after its debut, I’ll just say that the new show left this particular adult viewer underwhelmed.

Again, I’m glad there are people finding enjoyment in it. This is just my personal opinion. I don’t hate it—it’s MILES better than the film—but I don’t find it engaging.

I’m good off this. Y’all have fun, though.

[kkbardd]

hello! i haven’t sent an ask in a while because schoolwork has been piling up infinitely :[ , but your recent posts have been really interesting to me! i really liked the room sketch one, I can’t exactly explain why but there’s something so indescribably human about it. i love spaces that looked lived in, that have personality, and I think that your room (current one? made up? old one?) has done a great job of showing that. and I’m not very good at giving advice— I can hardly follow it myself, but if you don’t know something, don’t know what you want to do, try things. it’s okay if you don’t like them. i recently found out I’m more competent in languages than I thought! i can already read and understand simple sentences in german.

there’s always more to yourself than you’ll know, I think, but the world is kinder than people think. If anything, everyone is still very new at this. we’ve never lived before. do the things you like, branch out, don’t become less of yourself for other people. everything has a place, and my best advice is to treat life as you would a vacation. do all the things you can while you’re here. build a life that makes it worth it. (sorry for the long ask and my rambling, or if this is overstepping in any way. i just read what you wrote and kind of related to it in a way. thank you for continuing to create art, it brings me a lot of joy! :] )

hey isopod!!! thanks for the ask & I wish u good luck with ur school work!

Thank u so much for the compliments, im really glad the vibe of my room was conveyed in those doodles. i absolutely looove drawing my room! It’s extremely small (a renovated utility closet) and just barely fits a bed + my desk but its packed full of the things i love. It’s very lived in and I feel like it reflects my character well.

when i drew that page I was in my senior year of high school and pressures to decide my future were overwhelming. I never thought much about it until then and I didn’t have any idea of what I was going to do. The only thing I felt I had going for me was art but I didn’t want to turn my only hobby into a job I hated. I remember going through a master list of majors on random college websites and one-by-one asking myself if I’d be okay doing it. In the end I had nothing. I was really crushed about it and felt stuck. This was right after the covid quarantine too so focusing in school was difficult & I couldn’t bring myself to apply for scholarships. I started skipping classes, smoking weed, and pushing off my assignments. All of this only made me feel more miserable, of course, so everything seemed pretty bleak at the time.

But luckily I had the support of my family and especially my mother. She would always remind me that “we have option”, “we always have options”. Because I did! This was a fresh start to try my hand at a totally different experience than what I’ve done so far. I ended up choosing my major on a complete whim after hearing my aunt had a job in an adjacent field. I was pretty sure I’d drop out after a semester, yet here I am about to graduate soon & I’m having a ton of fun!! (Hell, I’m 10 hours out in the middle of nowhere right now for my Field Methods class!) It’s not that I had a knack for Geology that I just never tapped into, or that i secretly had a passion for rocks this entire time; I just found something that seemed like an okay fit and grew interest from there. I think that a small level of commitment like that is more than enough to get you going. I had a ton of ideas in my head about how I needed to have a perfect fit major that would connect every dot I’ve laid out in my life thus far, but that’s not true at all. Life is much more messy and unpredictable than that.

But enough of my rambling!! That time of my life may have been stressful but I’m very grateful that I went through it! It changed how I viewed problems and it taught me to always look for other options when everything seems helpless.

Thank u so much for ur encouragement, I really appreciate it <33 I completely agree with everything u said!! Life is an ever changing experience & often leads u in unpredictable directions!

[mdhwrites]

The Take On The Owl House I Hate the Most

Kind of because I see it WAY too easily. I probably wouldn’t actually make a blog about this because I could see it landing me in hot water but... Well, I keep talking TOH not liking the fact that it’s a kid’s show, that it’s a fantasy show, etc. like that. It doesn’t like comedy of kid’s shows, it doesn’t like the moralizing, Dana explicitly chose Disney because they would give her 22 minute time slots unlike other kid’s shows right now. It does create a show that feels different but also feels like it’s not wearing the skin it wants to be wearing.

That’s not the take though. That’s all stuff I happily agree with and have talked about in the past. No, this take is one I wish I agreed with less but that the show possibly supports and I REALLY wish it didn’t at ALL. The show wants to be a CW-esque, teenage/adult oriented, drama. And if it were... Luz would be wanting to fuck Eda.

Now normally I would hear someone pitch me this and go “Okay, you can go do your edgy AU. Have fun.” I’m not interested but fandom will do as fandom does. It only makes me cringe and recoil into myself because... How else do you explain the complete and total worship and obsession over Eda that Luz has? The first episode explicitly makes it clear that if Luz doesn’t want to do something, she won’t. In fact, the first THREE episodes, all reinforce that. Someone tells her to do something mundane and she goes off to have her own adventure. To have her own fantasy. Meanwhile, Eda is CONSTANTLY shitting on her and belittling that fantasy and that doesn’t really stop until post Once Upon a Swap. EIGHT EPISODES IN. And Luz and Eda have ONE more episode that has them together in a major way, Adventure in the Elements, after that for the entire season. That is the basis for Luz deciding to throw away her mom and not only go save Eda but destroy the portal. That’s not who Luz is, even in S1. She is too self interested in her own fantasy. It’s part of the problem with the Found Family as I’ve discussed before.

So this raises the reasonable question of, if Luz doesn’t find Eda’s normal work interesting, won’t listen to her, isn’t getting properly taught and barely has anything to do around the house, why does she stick around? Well... In episode four, we get this.

And that comment isn’t really new for the show. Eda’s attractiveness is just a blatant fact. She is made out not only to be attractive, but sexually attractive, MULTIPLE TIMES in at least the first season. Her looks get more attention, including by Luz, than AMITY, who is easily the next character who’s looks are even mentioned or glorified. In fact, her being on the market is a topic that crops up more than once in the series. Hell, it’s one of the first things we know about her, that people want to fuck her, as it’s in the fucking pilot. Warden Wrath finds her SO ALLURING as to drop his job to get a DATE with her.

And yes, Raine exists. Does Raine make sense with how Eda is portrayed in the first season, as someone who is happily on the market but also tired of how many assholes she meets on it? No. Admittedly, Eda’s relationship with... Relationships doesn’t make a lot of sense in general but she absolutely doesn’t feel like a character who is mourning the loss of their soulmate, which is absolutely how the show tries to portray it in S2.

She feels a lot more like she fucks around and finds out a lot of guys are assholes. There’s a reason why it was REALLY popular to ship Gruncle Stan and her when S1 was all that was out.

Worse yet, if you want to say Amity proves Luz isn’t into older women or the like, we get this chestnut from fucking First Day.

“And maybe meet a hot, yet vulnerable, upperclassmen.”

There’s... A lot of problems with this line but it also would fit WAY better in, you know... A CW drama and not a kid’s show. Especially from your MAIN FUCKING CHARACTER. She CANONICALLY, because TOH doesn’t think about its jokes WHATSOEVER, has unhealthy, fucked up relationship fantasies. Especially with school. After all, if it was to make them better, she could have said angsty, hurt, troubled, etc. But it’s VULNERABLE. Vulnerabilities are explicitly to be TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF.

*eye twitch*

Now, I do want to say that Eda did take her in and gave her a chance. Luz doesn’t do well with that chance, it’s less than one episode before she tells Eda to shove it for not thinking she’s not special enough, but you can maybe make a case there. She also gets with Amity. So if you wanted to, I dunno, prove that Luz was written in a way that made her seem more interested/cared about Amity more than Eda, especially since S1 does not earn that sort of interest, are there examples of that?

*dead eye stares the camera*

“Don’t you want to go save your girlfriend?” “I do but I’d rather be here and be prepared for if you guys need help.” This is from Clouds on the Horizon. Admittedly, her fear is warranted... But she literally would rather do NOTHING in order to support Eda, because she is explicitly not a part of this plan, than go help unstick her girlfriend. This is also the episode where Luz blatantly ignored Odalia threatening Lumity’s existence so that she can focus on saving the white boy there and get into a position that better, you know, helps. Eda. With the specific motivation that Eda is in trouble, despite the fact that she hasn’t made a plan for how they’re not all about to DIE! Like if Alador didn’t step in, Luz’s plan didn’t mean SHIT. At least Amity was actually dealing with the current problem while Luz was only focused on “Eda is in trouble. I need a way that gets me to Eda.” I personally vouch that the fact that it saved Hunter was tangential as Gus is MORE than powerful enough to make Hunter disappear and replace him with a clone and that’s an even less complex plan than what Luz made up on the fly.

Don’t like that? How about her desperate need for Eda’s approval, to be seen as a peer of hers, STILL, instead of being willing to talk to her, in Titan Where Art Thou? Or that Luz specifically needs to make sure Eda is okay in King’s Tide while her friends, who do not know the human realm or have connections there, are being forced through a portal? Including her girlfriend. How about the simple fact that Luz is WAY more honest with Eda than she literally ever is with Amity?

It’s all just REALLY awkward. But in the context of a CW show, it’s still not good writing, but it’s in line with those absurdities WAY more than with a kid’s shows absurdities. In fact... That’s kind of true in general for TOH. Having the twist that a relative ruined your life because you were better than them and they only became successful because of that choice? That’s in line. The comedy styling leaning more on either pure misery of a couple characters that the writers obviously hate and have there to make mean statements on? Yeah, that sounds right. The refusal to resolve plotlines, especially happily, when it could instead be milked for drama for the next three seasons? The fact that it obviously set itself up to go on for eternity? That sounds about right too. And I will admit I could be wrong. I don’t watch CW shows. Degrassi, Glee, Riverdale? They hold no interest for me because I don’t like mean spirited they often feel. But... with time, TOH absolutely feels more and more mean spirited. And even early on, that ridiculing of other media and fantasy and wanting to have fun all feels in line with that sort of spirit. Including the lack of interest in its fantasy elements.

Eda and Luz aren’t even the only ones that frankly make more sense like this. Lilith’s break with reality almost, and constant need for validation (including from Luz, including as a teacher which is uncomfortable in Escaping Expulsion in general, LET ALONE IN THIS CONTEXT) fits more in line with the sort of ‘insanity’ that those shows might give a character who’s life collapses. To add a chaotic element. Speaking of, that also fits the Bad boy of Hunter, who gets shipped with all the girls who are his age. Not in fandom BUT IN THE SHOW. All three of his introductions to Luz, Amity and Willow work as the start of a relationship arc, INCLUDING WITH THE LESBIAN. And... You know... Luz is Bi... And there are TERRIBLE plot lines you can do with that. *shudders and gags*

Meanwhile, characters like King, Gus, Willow, frankly Belos and his regime, and all the one off villains that other kid’s shows would embrace... Are kind of pushed to the side. Pushed to the side for characters who would feel entirely at home on something far more adult oriented. Something that was trying to be edgy and shocking and constantly have twists that prove how terrible these characters are. It even commonly sets it up. All of the reasons why Lumity WOULDN’T happen were part of why Lumity was so interesting between S1 and 2. But a lot of those plotlines admittedly felt more like this. Tackling racism, classism, Amity’s need to be the best, Luz’s flighty personality, etc. like that. Not helped of course by the fact that Hunter IS older than Luz and so IS a “hot yet vulnerable upper classman’ as he’s really only missing the BIG muscles of the dude Luz thought was “questing in all the right ways” back in episode TWO.

And if you’re wondering why this take has lingered with me... It’s because I keep asking why creative choices were made for The Owl House. Why are characters like this? Why is it a kid’s show when it obviously doesn’t like that it’s a kid’s show? Why is Luz so obsessed with Eda when they spend such little time together? Let alone POSITIVE time together?

And the idea that at one point it was meant to be an adult oriented cartoon, like Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel, but was just jammed into a kid’s show sized hole so it could be on broadcast television does help explain some of it. Do I think it’s actually true? NO! God no! Absolutely fucking not. Not for a second. Or bare minimum, I REALLY hope not. Also, I do want to point out that I don’t think the show would be GOOD like this, just that it leans weirdly on these sorts of tropes and writing styles and that it accidentally gives really awkward ways to interpret these characters, especially when what we’re told doesn’t match what we’re shown.

But ever since the concept was introduced to me, I could never quite get it out of my head. And I guess I just needed others to suffer with me. I’m sorry.

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I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[alphaman99]

Reposting this letter written by a Canadian Professor, Lena Bykhovsky who teaches biblical studies at Carleton University in Ottawa.

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“Dear Students,

I have spent the last 25 years showing you the beauty of all of the literary, cultural, philosophical, and artistic heights of the human spirit over the course of human history. Teaching you has been the most wonderful and satisfying of callings. I never wanted to do anything other than meet with you, discuss ideas with you, discover and rediscover human insights, truths, and wonders. I never regretted my career path, never hated my job, and never doubted my legacy. I felt privileged and honoured to show you how to analyse, to think critically, to weigh evidence, and to understand people and ideas, contexts and complexity, deeply and thoroughly. I thought my work was helping to make the world a better, more humane, more thoughtful place.

You have broken my heart. No: shattered it, irreparably. I don’t know how I will ever set foot in a classroom again. I don’t know how I will ever see you the same way. I know now that I was deluding myself that I ever had any impact, would ever leave any positive legacy, that my work ever made any difference.

I watch you all on social media, in the streets and the quads, marching in solidarity with a movement that seeks only to wipe me out. To exterminate me, my children, my parents, my entire family and community. I know, some of you think you’re trying to help the oppressed. You think that my kind is the white colonialist racist kind that you hate.

But I thought I taught you how to evaluate arguments. I thought I taught you the importance of understanding context, both historical and rhetorical. I thought that I taught you that the world did not operate according to dichotomies, like black and white, oppressor and oppressed, villain and victim. I thought I taught you about complexity, about judgment, and to examine your sources and not to take anyone’s statements at face value.

Zionism is the Jewish right to self-determination in our ancestral homeland. Israel is that ancestral homeland. Jews are the indigenous peoples of that land; not the only indigenous peoples of that land, to be sure. But Israel is the only land to which we are indigenous. After 2000 years of longing, the result of the Holocaust – a Nazi movement which sought to ethnically cleanse the world of Jews by systematically exterminating us – was that the international community granted us a sliver of that ancestral homeland.

It was to be shared, partitioned into a Jewish state and an Arab state. The Arabs rejected the partition and attacked the Jews when they declared the state of Israel in 1948. The Jews won. Arabs who remained in Israel became citizens with full rights and freedoms. 20% of Israel’s population today is Arab. They fight in the army, they are doctors, lawyers, members of Parliament and supreme court judges. There is no apartheid. Israel’s Jewish population consists of Jews from Arab lands, whose parents or grandparents were kicked out when the state of Israel was formed, and of descendants of refugees from Eastern Europe, Holocaust survivors who had no homes to return to. Some are more recent refugees from Europe, Russia, and the Americas who either returned to Israel for religious reasons or because the Jew-hatred in their communities grew too excessive and they decided to emigrate, to head for the one place in the world Jews can go if their neighbours or governments turn against them.

The West Bank and Gaza strip – along with refugee camps that still exist in Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan -- were the places that the Arab nations who attacked Israel at its founding told the Arabs living in Palestine (later to be known as Palestinians) to flee. It was supposed to be temporary, because the plan was to “push the Jews into the sea.” When the plan didn’t work out, all of these states refused to absorb the Palestinians. They wanted to keep them in camps because they still planned to annihilate Israel and the Jews that lived there and then the Palestinians could return. The West Bank was in Jordan and Gaza was in Egypt until 1967, when the Arab states tried again to push the Jews into the sea. Their failure this time ended with Israel capturing these territories.

When Israel tried to exchange land for peace and give Gaza back to Egypt, Egypt didn’t want it. And so the territories remained in Israel. In 2005 Israel pulled out of Gaza and left it to govern itself. Most of the West Bank is also self-governing, but not all because of the high number of suicide bombers and other threats to Israel’s existence fomenting there, so Israel hasn’t been able to fully remove itself. The current awful Israeli government has allowed religious fanatics, “settlers,” to build settlements there, which makes everything worse.

And you see what I did there? I criticized Israel’s government. I can do that, and still support the existence of a Jewish state in our ancestral homeland.

When you say “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” this is a call to ethnic cleansing of Jews from their homeland, from the only state in the entire Middle East that would look remotely familiar to you in terms of basic rights and freedoms and a democratic system if you were to visit the region. When Hamas supporters – like those who led you all in a rally on my home campus today – talk about Jews as “occupiers,” they don’t mean Gaza. They mean the whole state of Israel. They want Jews eradicated from the entire land. Hamas actually wants us gone from the whole world, as they have stated many times. Who are the Nazis now?

But here I am, teaching again. I can’t help myself. I wish that you cared what I had to say. I wish that some knowledge, some context, some understanding, could reach beyond the slogans and chants for my death that you are repeating mindlessly and endlessly as you march to the beat of hatred across the tattered remains of my broken soul.”

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