#if you were wondering. despite all this i mostly just look like a hick in jeans and flannel

[keroseneinhalers]

CURRENT HOT BOY SUMMER REGIME:

- rice water for face

- 100% unsweetened cranberry juice

- argan oil for hair

- SUNSCREEN!!!! i use eucerin because its the only one im not allergic to ❤️

- water and tea all the time

- vitamin d and garlic supplements because there is no sun and i need to keep the pep in my step i PROMISE im not a vampire 😭

- nonwhitening toothpaste because my dentist told me i was eroding my enamel by brushing too vigorously <//3

- red hair dye in a natural shade because no one can know im just mousy brown i have a reputation to uphold

thats all ^-^ it is my solemn mission to be the most bafflingly well-groomed person with bad fashion sense on campus

[sweatersexual]

just some black ink on some blue lines (and a shadow you won’t recognize)

Read on AO3

Stan wished he knew what was going through Ford’s mind when he’d packed this box and shoved it in a closet. When they were kids, they’d insisted to their mother on cleaning days that the piles of the stuff in their room were organized, they had a system. Ford probably still had one, but Stan was no longer privy to it. He’d probably be annoyed with Stan for messing it up if - when - he got back.

But if Stan was going to turn this room into a gift shop, this closet would have to be cleared out. So he dug through the motley collection of vinyl records, books, part of a research paper, a jar of molasses, and a Cubic’s Cube, placing most of them in the pile of Ford’s things to be packed away and eventually returned to him. The book on Fifth-Dimensional Calculus, though, that might be helpful with the portal.

Two loose sheets of paper fell out as he flipped through the book. A letter, but not addressed to anyone. Still, Stan had spent enough time bent over that journal to know Ford’s handwriting back to front.

I’ve fallen in love with him, the letter read. I never imagined I could fall in love, let alone with a hog farmer from Tennessee, but he’s brilliant and charming and something electric runs through me every time we touch.

The confirmation that Ford was gay after all these years was hardly a surprise to Stan. He’d suspected Ford’s sexuality for about as long as he’d questioned his own. But Stan could never imagine writing anything so sappy about a guy he himself was into. Stan snorted as he continued reading.

I know you would tease me if I told you this in person. That’s only one of the many, many reasons I can never send this letter. But I feel like I have to tell someone about this or I’ll burst. Anyone else would think I was some kind of pervert. But somehow, I think you would understand.

I know we never talked about this, back when we still talked. We both knew how our father felt about men loving other men . . .

This letter was written to Stan. Ford had wanted to tell someone he was in love, and he had thought of Stan, even though they weren’t talking to each other. Ford must have picked up on Stan being bisexual in some way and known that it would have been safe to come out to him, if circumstances were different.

Well, he’d have been safe from homophobia. Safe from the usual brotherly mockery was a different story.

We both knew how our father felt about men loving other men, and his disapproval hung like a specter over everything we did. I know some psychologists would blame his overbearing nature for my current inclinations . . .

Overbearing nature, yeah, that was putting it lightly. “He’s an asshole,” Stan muttered to himself.

. . . but I can’t help but feel that if an overbearing father makes one queer, there would be a lot more queer people in the world. And psychology is a very inexact science anyway.

Stan had already figured, but it was nice to have someone as smart as Ford say that at least one of the theories people put out about why people weren’t straight was bogus. It didn’t matter why he or Ford loved men, because they weren’t about to change, and they weren’t hurting anybody. The sooner more people realized that, the better.

I’ve given up on analyzing why I feel the way I do about F. The fact that we have so much in common probably has something to do with it, but we didn’t always get along so well. When we first met a few years ago, I found his unique blend of hick and hippie mannerisms very off-putting. He thought me stuffy and intractable. Still, we managed to stand living together long enough to become close friends, and now, something more romantic in nature as well.

A few weeks ago, he insisted we take a break from studying. We drove out to the middle of nowhere and stargazed, something we’ve done several times before. Talking about space excites our imaginations. It has sparked many a conversation about the future, not just our own hopefully bright ones, but that of the world and humanity at large. This time, however, we got on the subject of how grateful we were to have each other in our lives. I’m a loner by nature, as you know, so connecting with anyone as well as I do with F is rare and precious. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than his lips were on mine, and I was reciprocating wholeheartedly.

When the kiss broke, he looked at me questioningly, worried, I think, that either of us would come to our senses and acknowledge the enormity of what we had just done. Instead I simply kissed him back. We’ve shared so many since then, and the close quarters of our dorm have proven too enticing to get schoolwork done without distractions. I’ve had to relocate to the library several times in order to get any real studying done.

That nerd. Of course his main concern about getting a boyfriend was how it would cut into his study time.

Despite how busy we are, we’ve still found time for things like walks around campus or daringly holding hands in the back of a dark movie theater. But mostly we’ve spent an increasing amount of time in each other’s arms back in our dorm. We made love last night. I’ll spare you the details, but I’ll have you know he’s just as considerate and patient in bed as he is anywhere else. Perhaps even more so.

Oh come on. “Considerate and patient?” That’s how you’d describe your waiter, not your lover. Had the sex not been that good? Not that Stan wanted to know the details, Ford had been right about that, but sheesh, Stan expected something more spicy than “considerate and patient.”

I can’t believe I just put that down on paper. Thank goodness you’ll never read this, you’d say I’m such a sap. I can’t help it, I’m in love and the only one I can talk to about it is the object of my affections. And as much as I do love talking to him about us, it would be nice, just for once, for someone else to know how happy I am, and why.

Yeah, Stan had been there before, when he’d dated guys who weren’t out. It sucked, not being able to introduce him to your friends, having to worry about who was watching when you so much as held his hand. So much of what was normal for couples just couldn’t be for you.

But sadly, disappointment is just as much a part of life as love is. You taught me that.

Stan winced. Ford had basically just called him a disappointment. Stan had known their father had felt that way about him, and Ford probably did too, but damn. Seeing it in writing like that still hurt.

Even F may leave me someday. As lovestruck as I am, I can still see the obstacles ahead of us clearly. I try not to let it taint my time with him now, much in the same way I still look back on our childhood fondly, even though it ended so badly.

I still keep that photo of us on the Stan-o-War, you know. F has seen it. He thinks we should talk to each other. I have no idea how I would even start. And sending this letter is still very much out of the question. Ma thinks you moved from the last address you gave her anyway. I would tell you to call her, but that would involve talking to you.

See you never,

Ford

Stan turned the letter over and sighed. Disappointment or not, at least Ford didn’t completely hate him. You didn’t write a letter like that to someone you hated. You didn’t keep a picture to show your boyfriend. You didn’t fondly reminisce on old memories. It sounded like Ford had considered reconciliation as a possibility, but not one he knew how to pursue. Stan could understand that. He had felt the same way.

Stan wondered if he had enough information to look up this F guy. Surely it wouldn’t be hard to track down a Backupsmore alumnus who’d been a hog farmer from Tennessee and had the first initial F. Maybe he was the owner of the smaller sized clothes Stan had found lying around the house, or of the vinyl records that didn’t seem to fit Ford’s music taste. Or maybe Ford had moved on from his college sweetheart and they belonged to someone else.

No, looking up F was a bad idea. Either he’d figure out Stan was impersonating his brother and ruin everything Stan was working for, or he’d believe Stan was Ford and Stan would have to pretend they had romantic history. Neither option was worth the hassle.

Stan ended up keeping the letter down in the basement with his brother’s journal. Whenever Stan reread it, he felt every minute of the decade plus he and Ford had spent growing apart. In another life, could they have shared those moments together? Could they have come out to each other in person? There was a whole relationship as adults they could have had, and maybe it was still a possibility.

Stan just needed to get that portal up and running.

[southernrays]

location: Fairvale + Jesup/Atlanta in flashbacks date: The second week of July 2020 + Ray’s entire life availability: closed solo tldr: Ray ponders his love life before-during-after the apocalypse cw for: transphobia, disclosure talks, transitioning, divorce, drugs (mentioned not used) and all of the general heart break affiliated with young love.

000.

Ray fell in love too easily.

It had always been a problem, really, but there was no real fix. Ray loved deeply, easily, and with his whole entire heart. He had done so since he was a kid, and he would probably always do so, apocalypse or not.

001.

His first crush had been on Brittany Walker when he was six years old. That was before he was Ray, before he was even Nate, but a crush was a crush.

Brittany was the most popular girl in their elementary school. Jesup was a small town that only grew smaller the older they got, and Ray was one of ten in his class. Brittany was classically pretty - blonde hair, blue eyes, a big smile, and kind eyes - but Ray knew it was more that that. He didn’t want to be Brittany’s friend, he wanted to be her best friend, and got jealous of everyone else. When the town got a new set of siblings, brother and sister, and Brittany started hanging out with them instead of him, Ray’s father noticed the frowns and sad looks at the dinner table.

“What’s wrong, champ?” David had asked, the nickname sticking from a t-ball championship streak of two years. Ray had pouted over the okra on his plate, and not just because it was slimy.

“Brittany has new friends and likes them better. But I like her more than anyone else on the playground.”

“Is that right now?” David had amusement in his eyes when he tried to keep a straight face, and Ray was old enough to see it. He was deceptively perceptive for his age and already a good people watcher at the bar. David knew that.

“I’m serious Dad. I’d marry her, like you and mom.”

Ray was still just six, though. He didn’t notice the tense of his father’s shoulder, the way he glanced over to make sure that his wife wasn’t in the room. He didn’t notice the frown lines on his face or how unhappy he had been for the last six years. He didn’t know that the divorce papers will be signed before their next Christmas, and it will be spent without Regina Turner. That all of his birthdays and holidays and life events would be without her, forever, very soon.

“That’s a whole lot of like, kiddo.”

“I mean it, Pa.”

“That’s alright champ. You can marry whoever you want to when you get older, alright? I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Alright dad,” little Ray had said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Don’t make it weird.”

David’s laugh had filled the kitchen, and Ray felt better about it all.

002.

Ray didn’t have a type growing up. The people he liked, he liked individually, not because they fit into a mold that checked off imaginary boxes. In high school his eyes turned towards a new girl in town that’s aesthetic screams southern gothic in an unironic way. Hailee wore her eye liner too thick, kept her music too loud, wore too much black and metal, and glared at everyone at Jesup’s only high school like their mere presence bothered her. Ray had no idea, in retrospect, why he was drawn to her, but he was. Ray was finally Nate by then, finally himself in his own skin and his own clothing and no one could take that from him. Not the busybodies of Jesup, not his mother’s stinging palm on his cheek, and not any pastor of a Church he wasn’t apart of, praying to a man he didn’t believe in. 

Ray was unapologetically himself, and maybe he was drawn to someone else like that, too.

Hailee avoided him like the plague, too, at first. She scoffed at his worn levis and dirty cowboy boots. She ignored Ray when the popular crowd stopped by his locker. Ray was popular, too, in spite of his transition and small town gossip. His father owned one of the only bars in town that made him cool, and a source of liquor for unage drinking and parties. Ray didn’t care much for that, but he did appreciate the socialization of it all.

“Hey, Hailee, wait up now,” Ray had called out, almost not recognizing his own voice after his second puberty. 

“What do you want, Nate?” Her eyes had narrowed, pretty and green despite the kohl surrounding them. 

“You to come to Nick’s party this weekend. What do ya say?” Ray rocked back on his heels, nervous of her answer. People in the hallway stopped to look at them, and Ray wondered what they saw. Was it the stubble on his chin, his recent growth spike, and the new squareness of his hips? Or was it the same kid that had been there since pre-school, unable to leave that old, uncomfortable skin behind.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah? You do that, then. I can pick ya up on the bike if you want?” 

Her eyes flashed with something dangerous, then, and Ray knew he had hooked her. What kind of edgy girl could resist showing up to the party on the back of a sick motorcycle?

They find themselves in a closet, of all places, in the middle of the night. Ray tasted tequila on her lips when she slotted their hips together. He pushed back, pinning her against a wall as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The groan she let out was sweet music to his ears and she melted like putty against his strong frame.

“Worth comin’ out for the party?” Ray asked against her lips. She bit his lip in retaliation before deepening the kiss. Ray’s hands wandered, fingers trailing the skin exposed by the black crop top she had decided to wear tonight. They separate when Ray needed to come up for air, harsh pants filling the small spaces of the closet.

“I didn’t expect it to be so good,” Hailee mumbled against his lips, and Ray can’t help but freeze.

“What? Kissin’ a redneck?” He tried to joke off, desperate for her to make some small town hick joke. Because Hailee was from Indianapolis. She was supposed to be edgy and alternative and beyond all of the small town gossip. She was different from the other people Ray had been taking hayrides with since the days of diapers. 

He expected more out of Hailee - maybe more than he should have, maybe more than what was fair - which is why the disappointment felt so much worse with her.

“No, you know...” A brief pause of hesitation and Ray prayed, dear God for her to say anything but what he thought she was going to say. “Kissing someone like you.”

Ray flinched back like someone had dropped a bucket of ice on him. His eyes sting for a brief second of embarrassment before the rage took over. He takes one deep breath, and then another. Man, testosterone was a potent thing, wasn’t it?

“I... I’ll see ya ‘round Hailey.”

“Wait - Nate - I didn’t ... I wasn’t trying to-”

Ray doesn’t hear the rest. He doesn’t need to.

003.

Dating Xavier was a mistake, plain and simple.

Ray was new to the area. He was finally free of his town, free of the stigma and the knowing looks, and the everything else that came with a town so small it felt like a fishbowl. Here, in Atlanta, he got to start over. He could be Nate from the beginning, without any need to pretend otherwise.

And Nate was a useless bisexual. Always had been.

Xavier was kind of a douchebag. He met Ray at a bar, of course, his band playing on the makeshift stage. Xavier was a drummer. He was so dang pretty, easy on the eyes, and kissed in a dirty, grungy sort of way that had it’s charms. He was nothing like Jesup kids; Xavier was spoiled, wild, a city boy through and through, and Ray craved the simplicity of it all.

Xavier (who went by X) was not a good guy and did drugs (most X) and got crossfaded out of his mind after shows. He stayed up crazy hours, usually high, and wrote all sorts of lyrics for his band. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was very brief and mostly physical.

“You should play guitar, babe, like for real, you know?” Xavier said, waking Ray up at five in the morning to tell him that.

“Why’s that, handsome?” Ray had answered, sleep still clogging his voice as he rolled over. It looked like X hadn’t been to sleep yet, which made sense considering the binge he had been on.

“It’d make you more edgy, right, like, you’d be hotter. Everyone’s hotter if they play guitar.”

“S’that why you’re a drummer?” Ray teased, but the fun nature of it went over Xavier’s head. He leveled a big scowl at Ray, and Ray sighed.

“No need to be mean, Nate.”

“Was just a joke, baby.” Ray opened up the covers of the bed, glancing at the clock again. Xavier’s pupils were so dilated that he couldn’t see his pretty brown eyes. “Come to bed soon?”

“You know I have to finish this song. We hit the road in three weeks for our tour.”

In that three weeks, Ray picked up a guitar and had his first lessons, broke up with Xavier, and never saw the guy again.

He was not more edgy, not in the slightest, but he did have a new guitar and a whole city to explore.

004.

Meeting Luci had been accidental in every way. He had picked up an extra shift at the bar that his manager forgot to write into the schedule, so when he showed up for it there was double staffing and no need for Ray to be there. Instead of spending a Friday night alone, at his apartment, he decided to stay. Ray nursed a couple of beers as the bar filled up and texted his friends to show up early.

The Drunken Crown was a sort of themed bar-slash-pub in Atlanta. It was smaller, which Ray appreciated, and had theme nights on the daily. A lot of the college kids from nearby spent their time there, and the average patron was generally on the younger side. On Fridays and Saturdays their theme rotated, and tonight’s was Historic Night. 

His friends arrived a bit later, dressed in Spartan battle gear. They did a couple rounds of shots before most of them took to the dance floor, leaving Ray laughing as he refused at the bar.

Ray had come dressed in an honest to goodness toga, including a gold spray-painted leaf crown and golden accessories. His time in the gym had definitely paid off as he was finally bulking up and gaining more definition in his shoulders. One or two girls had been orbiting around him, but Ray didn’t make any passes at anyone. He sipped on his beer, watching his coworkers make their rounds, and decided to people watch for the evening.

A group of flappers were tearing up the dance floor. Ray could see his buddy, Blake, drunkenly approaching them and attempting some dance moves that made him look ridiculous. Some guys in three piece suits were making out by the entrance. A group of hippies were eagerly chatting and mingling at the bar. Ray saw at least three girls who looked like some extras in a Nirvana video begging for some kind of song change from whatever was on the speakers.

Luci had been dressed up as an old writer, someone Ray knew the name of but couldn’t remember, not truly and definitely not any more, and kept all to herself in the very corner of the bar. She was sipping on some mixed drink and Ray’s eyes stopped on her. What was her story? The quiet girl, alone at the bar, barely hanging onto the fringes of all of the activity. 

He was intrigued, and he wanted to know.

A simple introduction was given. Ray prodded, trying to get a feel for the quiet girl, who opened up immediately when asked about her costume. Ray was no academic, but he appreciated the passion in her eyes when she spoke about something, voice louder than either one of them expected.

“I’m Nate, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

And it was. Luci was his opposite in so many ways. He hadn’t expected to see her again after that night, too shy to ask for her number and unsure if she was interested in giving it. His coworkers had given him hell for chickening out, and Ray just gave them a good-natured smile.

A week and a half later, Luci came in, dressed normally, while Ray was working. He spent the entire night neglecting his duties, trying to get a conversation out of her and working his own natural charm. And she came back the next week, and the week after, too. Soon Ray was brave enough to ask for her number. And she gave it to him.

Being with Luci was different. Their first date, Ray had taken her out of the city to a local dirt track. They went mudding in ATVs and Ray nearly fell off of his trying to impressive her halfway through. Luci’s eyes had been wide the entire time, soaking up the whole thing with a curiosity that Ray came to associate with her. One date turned into two, which turned into a whole series of exploring together. 

They took turns taking each other outside of their comfort zones. Ray taught Luci how to have fun the country way, with mudding and camping, and picnics in the bed of his truck as they watched the sun rise together. Luci surprised Ray with her deep thoughts, her sharp mind, and the push to better himself with her. She didn’t let him keep up his self-deprecation. They would have late night conversations, under the stars, all alone, wrapped up in each other.

She met his friends, his family, incorporated herself in his entire life.

Ray fell head over heels. And he told her so, earnest and eager and open to love. Open to a lifetime of learning and exploring with her. 

And she left him, at the edge of the cliff he was ready to jump off with no parachute, without so much as an explanation. And she took a part of him with her, whether she realized it or not, that never really came back.

005.

There were more. Some before Luci, some after. Each person was different - different backgrounds, ages, race, gender, personalities - but one thing always remained the same. Ray loved too hard, too much, too easily. Ray was open to the idea of commitment, and committed, too easily. 

 It didn’t matter who he was dating, he was the constant, he was the issue, and it hurt to admit.

Ray tried, and he loved, before-during-after the outbreak. And it went like this:

There was Rob, a brewmaster he met while at school. They dated for over a year, before graduation hit; Ray wanted to go to Atlanta and Rob wanted to go to family back in Miami.

“It’s like - you know - I really like you Nate. I like you a lot. But long distance? It never works. It’s better to end it now.”

There was Sage, a wild child trust fund girl that wanted to save the rainforest with Daddy’s money. She laughed when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

“That’s cute, you thought we were dating? It’s not that serious babe.”

There was Fi, a survivor in a camp Ray had stumbled across after leaving the Fort. She was the reason Ray stuck around for three weeks. They had had an awful fight before the camp was overrun, and she hadn’t made it out alive.

“You’re too soft, Ray. I’d chew up your sunshine and spit it out. I don’t want to see you again.”

There was Ronnie, the permanent student with four different bachelor degrees. He cheated on Ray with one of his roommates after six months of dating.

“I was bored, Nate. I’m not ready to just settle down, dude. You’re smothering me.”

There was Destiny, a small town, kindred girl he found in Atlanta not too long after Xavier. She had looked at him in the worst way when Ray had come out to her.

“I’m - I’m not - That’s not what God would want for you, you know?”

There was Jenny, a financial advisor that Ray had met through the bar and mutual friends. She had always been so carefree, maybe too carefree, maybe just too free in general.

“Oh Darlin’, I don’t think so. We’re not exactly endgame, are we?”

It didn’t matter who, when, where they were. Ray wasn’t worth keeping around - that was the universally proven fact. It was one he had to stomach his entire life, and well, it sucked, but Ray was not one to stay down. He washed off the mud, dusted off his boots, and got back up again.

000. +

Ray tried not to play the self pity card. It just wasn’t his style. But with the outbreak, losing his family, and trying to re-invent himself yet again? A relationship was the last thing he wanted or needed. Fairvale was a clean break, it was (mostly) mess free. He could be whoever he wanted or needed. He could start over, again. He could protect himself and his heart.

Love mucked all of that up. It always had.

So when he caught himself - again, Ray, really? - people watching with his eyes settling on one person, he ignored it. When he felt that small flip-flop in his belly at their smile, he pushed it down. When his day would brighten at the familiar face of a kind-of-regular-that-showed up, Ray decided he would not have a crush again, thank you very much, and make things uneven. 

He could not afford to give up his heart any more than he already had. He couldn’t afford to be let down, disregarded, by someone again.

[hopelikethemoon]

Delivery (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Delivery Rating: PG Length: 1600 Warnings: Angst (discussions of childbirth)  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in May 31st 1997. Short cause #selfcare. Summary: Reader knows it’s almost time.

@grapemama​​​​@seawhisperer​​@huliabitch​​​​@beccaplaying​@rogrsnbarnes​​​​@thewallpapergoesorido​​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​@gooddaykate​​​​@livasaurasrex​​​​@ham4arrow​​​​@plexflexico​​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​ @hdlynn​​​​@lokiaddicted​​​​ @randomness501​​​​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​​​  @roxypeanut​​​​@snivellusim​​​​@lukesrighthand​​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​​​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​​​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​​@awesomefandomsunited​​​​​ @ah-callie​​​​​@swhiskeys​​​​​@lady-tano​​​​​ @u-wakatoshii​​​ @space-floozy​​​​​@cable-kenobi​​​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​@findhimfives​​​​​@pedrosdoll​​​​​@frietiemeloen​​​​​@arrowswithwifi​​​​​ @random066​​​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​​​@heather-lynn​​​​​@domino-oh-damn​​@cyarikaaa​​​​​@ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​​​​@yabby-girl​​​​​@xqueenofthecraziesx​​​​​@punkass-potato​​​​​@coredrive​​​​​@pascalesque​​​​​@theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​​​ @queenquazar​​​​​@sabinemorans​​​​​@buckstaposition​​​​​@holkaskrosnou​​​​​@yespolkadotkitty​​​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​​​@jaime1110​​​​​@katlikeme​

You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip as you stared up at the ceiling and focused on what you were feeling. You ran your hand over your swollen belly, smiling to yourself as you felt baby Sofía kicking beneath your palm — or maybe it was her fist. It was hard to tell, now that she was so active. 

So active. 

Josie had been a livewire towards the end of your pregnancy, but Sofía was an entirely different beast. 

Except the way you felt was very familiar. 

You still had a week until your due date — which was the whole reason Chucho had gotten into town the day before — but something felt off.

Not bad off, but different off.

With Josie you’d had to deal with Braxton Hicks, which you fortunately hadn’t had to deal with during this pregnancy. A blessing in disguise considering everything else you dealt with. 

You pressed two fingers into your radial pulse point on your wrist, focusing on counting out your pulse rate. It wasn’t too high, but it definitely felt elevated. 

And you couldn’t shake the feeling — the one that was deep in your gut, a creeping sensation up your spine. Your instincts were telling you that today was the day, but there was something else too. 

Something felt off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

Javier knocked twice before opening the bedroom door, “Pops just took Stevie and Josie for a walk.” He told you, moving to sit on the side of the bed beside you. “How are you doing, baby?”

You tilted your head to look at him, blinking slowly as you tried to clear away the strange haze in your vision as you focused on him. You’d probably been laying down for too long — you’d gone back to bed directly after breakfast and it was after lunch now. 

“I’m okay,” You told him, reaching for his hand and curling your fingers around it. “Your daughter kept me up all night. I’m fucking exhausted.”

He chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to your stomach just above your belly button, his warm palm skimming over your bare skin. “She’s just excited to get out.”

You laughed when Sofía kicked right beneath Javier’s palm — the look on his face was worth all of the discomfort. “I can’t wait to hold her.” You said as you played your fingers through his hair. “I still remember when you first held Josie.”

“I cried.” Javier smirked, kissing your stomach before turning towards you. “I know Steve’s got bets on whether I’ll cry over Sofía.”

“Uh, yeah.” You snorted, “I started that betting pool.” You started to sit up slowly, giving his leg a firm pat. “You’re a sap and I love you for it.” You leaned towards him and stole a kiss. “You should pack the bags.”

“What?” His jaw dropped a little, eyes widening as a stroke of panic marred his expression. “Wait, did your water break? Are you having contractions?”

“No and no.” You rolled your eyes. “But mother’s intuition is telling me that it will be soon.” You grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed and stuffed it beneath you for support. “I just have this feeling.”

Javier brushed his knuckles over your cheek, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Anything in particular you want packed?”

The suitcase was already mostly packed. Javier had fretted about it almost a month ago, to the point where you gave up the fight and let him pack everything early. “Shove Alias Grace in. I haven’t read it yet, but maybe I’ll get a chance to read it at the hospital.” You shrugged. 

He arched a brow at you as he grabbed it off the nightstand and moved to shove it into your suitcase. “You think you’ll be reading?”

“You never know what might happen.” You rubbed at your forehead, frowning as you felt the faintest twinge of pain there. Was the weather changing? Maybe it was a pressure headache starting. 

“Did you already pack the uh, special gear you had me pick up last week?”

“The adult diapers?” You shot back with a short laugh, “Yeah. You never know, they might be the next sexy craze.” You wiggled your brows seductively. “Don’t forget your glasses.”

“Already got a spare pair in the car,” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You think it’s gonna be today?”

You rubbed your lips together thoughtfully before nodding, “I do.” It was a little surreal to think that in a day or two you’d be coming home with your baby girl. 

Javier left the suitcase sitting close to the bedroom door before he moved back to you, perching on the side of the bed. “I can’t believe after all these months, we’re finally here.”

“I know.” You smiled brightly at him, trying to ignore the way your vision was fuzzy at the edges. You were clearly just exhausted. “After how hard it was to get here… I’m looking forward to the easy part.”

He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. “And you’re positive about the name choice?”

“Of course I am.” You smiled brightly at him, “I can’t imagine a better name for our daughter.” You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “And we’ll just never tell Steve what her middle name is.”

“You really think Connie can keep that secret?” Javier chuckled, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. 

“She’s better than Steve is, that’s for sure.” You rolled your eyes. “You have to admit, Sofía Constance Peña sounds right.” 

He nodded, “Yeah, it does go together. Now we’ve just got to make sure we keep the Murphys as friends. Otherwise it’ll be awkward explaining to her who she’s named for.”

“I mean, we moved here so you could have your friend back.” You gave him a pointed look. “So it’s on you to maintain the relationship.”

“Daddddddddy!” Josie called out from the family room a split second before the sound of feet running down the hallway gave way to the bedroom door bursting open. “Mommy!”

“Hey baby doll,” You patted the bed beside you. “How was your walk with your abuelo?”

Josie grinned, “We saw an inguana!” She giggles as she bounced onto the bed. “Mommy, how’s sissy?”

“You sound like your father,” You laughed, pulling her into your side and kissing the top of her head. “I think I’m going to be having the baby very soon. Are you going to be a big girl for Chucho and Monica!”

She nodded, “I’m gonna be the best girl for you mommy.” She hugged her arms around you, “I have a present for you.” Josie told you before she was shuffling out of the bed and running down the hallway. 

“I’m almost afraid,” You laughed, pressing your thumb against the point between your brows before exhaling steadily. It was definitely a headache.

Josie returned with one of her Beanie Babies, “I want you to take this with you, mommy! Since daddy said Stevie can’t go with you to the hobs-stable.”

“Hospital.”

“Hobspitle.”

“Close enough.” You frowned as you felt your pulse quicken, the sensation throbbing in your neck strangely. That wasn’t normal. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Javier questioned softly, his expression darkening. 

“Hey, Josie… why don’t you go see if Stevie’s got water. I bet she’s thirsty.”

Josie was easily shooed away. Anything that had to do with Stevie got her attention.

“I’m alright.” You exhaled slowly as you sat up straighter, running your hand over the side of your stomach. “Just a lot of movement.” Did you really want to worry him?

“You want to get up for a couple minutes?” Javier questioned, brushing his fingers over your hair. 

You nodded, “Yeah.” 

Javier helped you out of the bed, his fingers curled around your forearms as he helped you keep steady on your feet. “You sure you’re good?”

“Well,” You lifted your gaze to meet his. “A little dizzy.”

“Dizzy?”

“I’m good.” You assured him, shaking loose his hand so you could rub your hand over the spot where Sofía was kicking you repeatedly. You wondered if she could feel the way your pulse seemed to be off. 

“Just tell me if you think somethings wrong—“

“Nothing’s wrong.” You said quickly, shaking your head. “She’s just very active today.” You glanced towards the door that led outside. “Can I sit outside for a bit?”

Javier nodded, “Of course, baby.” He assured you as he helped you walk outside onto the patio. The weather was nice — a little too warm, but you enjoyed sitting outside after being cooped up inside for months. 

“So I think I’m starting to have contractions.” You told him, chewing on your bottom lip. “There’s this funny twinge every time she starts getting active and… I think it’s contractions, but we’re still far out.”

Javier sat down beside you on the picnic table, “So it really could be today?” He smiled a little, “I’m gonna be a father again.”

“Our girls are very lucky.” You squeezed his hand three times. “Even if you drive me crazy.”

He snorted, “You love when I drive you crazy.” 

You made a face, “You’re sadly not wrong.” You lowered your gaze to where your hand was curled around his, “Javier, you know I love you, right?”

Javier nodded as your eyes met his, “I know you do, baby. I love you too. More than words.”

Despite sitting completely still, your pulse was pounding in your ears. Hell, you could even feel your pulse in your legs and your fingers. Something wasn’t right, but you hoped it was just pre-labor anxiety and nothing worse. 

All you wanted was for this delivery to go smoothly for Javier. You wanted him to have this, the experience he was robbed of with Josie. 

[edspageds]

18+ Drabble - Home

Summary: Frustration builds, but sometimes a stranger can sooth the raised hackles of the heart. Eddie meets Richie at a bar. 

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Warnings: notSFW, alcohol, explicit sexual content, implied drunken sex

Word Count: 1.2k

Part vent work, part smut. But mostly smut lol.

Eddie likes to think he can deal with a lot. 

Despite his thorny exterior, he's not actually the type of guy to snap on a dime for no reason. And even then, he doesn't get truly frustrated and angry to the point that he holds it against the people at fault. That takes effort. That takes time. That takes build up. 

Resentment. He's familiar with it. Living with his Mother, it grows in him, slow and sure, the little sapling nourished with every cloying call of his name and tear stained bat of her eyes. He hates feeling like this, letting things fester into an unrecognizable soupy mess, till his anger becomes an all consuming cloud of apathetic contraction. Tightening his muscles, and sitting like a stone in his stomach. 

He yells to get it out, to let his feelings free so they don't bottle up inside him, pounding harshly around shaken and fizzy, ready to explode. 

He hates it. 

His skin stretched tight over the set of his shoulders, throbbing dully. Harshly digging his teeth into the soft flesh of his lip, a distraction to the rattle of cool anger in his veins. 

He's not the type to drink his feelings, but the light amber liquid sloshing in his stein would tempt him otherwise. It's swill, disgusting sawdust sludge that drags across his tongue on each swig. 

He keeps sipping it. 

He shouldn't even be here. She'll smell it on him, the minute he gets home like a blood hound, and ask him in that same cloying voice, "Eddie-bear, where were you?" The phantom memory driving another sip down his throat. 

He intends that to be his evening, stewing in silence, eating up the tiny back corner table closest to the hustle and bustle of the back room where a rowdy group plays pool (far too loudly) that no one else wants the little section he's dug out for himself. And even if they did, his deep set glower keeps them away. 

Free to wallow in his self-made misery, Eddie doesn't expect the door to the back to swing open quite so suddenly. Nor the stranger that stumbles drunkenly, falling into the seat across from him with a laugh. 

He expects him to take one look at Eddie, and turn tail from the buzz kill. To rush away with a chip on his shoulder, and then go back to his buddies gossiping about the asshole in the corner booth. 

But, he looks at Eddie and does the least expected thing he could imagine short of punching him.

He talks.

"Whoa, you a cousin of Oscar the Grouch? Hey, never met a celebrities cousin before!" It's clearly a joke, but he says it with a serious earnest flare that has Eddie's lips threatening a smile.

"You write that yourself? I'm impressed."

"Really? I thought that one was, like, at most a 4, could use some work."

"No, I'm impressed you can write." 

The other man smiles a wide toothy grin, clearly caught off guard, slapping his knee laughing a throaty chortle. "And he's got jokes! Richie Tozier's the name, and laughter is my game. Care to play?"

He's wiggling his brow and clearly drunk (or perhaps just drunk on his own overstuffed ego). Eddie opens his mouth to tell him to fuck off, and maybe shove it up his ass.

They end up talking for hours. 

If asked to repeat the conversation, Eddie remembers maybe something about Anthony Perkins and Squidward? How that translated to this mans hands on his ass, shoved up against the wall of a hotel (a fancy one in Upper Manhattan no less!!) Eddie doesn't know. 

What he does know is the drag of his beard across his chin and lips is driving him up the wall. Literally, Richie hicks him up easily, groping and grounding his palms across the clothed surface of his ass. Nibbling at his lips, both of their hard cocks unignorable between them. Eddie's never done this before, gone back to a mans room, one he just met at the bar after some hours of conversation. 

He barely remembers the jump from there to here, mind distracted by the press of his lips, wet and hot on his own. He wonders what Richie's lips will feel like dragging across his thighs, trailing up to his spread cheeks. That irresistible tongue lapping at every inch of exposed skin, his beard prickling pleasantly in it's wake. 

Richie presses more firmly against him, and Eddie goes nearly feverous with want, the hard press of his cock into his own, even covered by layers of clothes has his hips twitching in anticipation. Savoring the feel of every inch of Richie colliding into him. 

And, God, is that a lot. 

Eddie can feel him, how big he is, and he wants him. Wants that cock fucking him hard, fucking him until every last thought in his head is banished, but the blissful drag of that cock pounding into his prostate. And it'll hit deep, he knows it will, it can't possible not with such girth. He wants to shove Richie down on that bed, and sink down on his cock till it presses so deeply inside him he can think of nothing else. Till Richie can think of nothing else. Thrusting up into him, gripping his thighs tightly while Eddie bounces on his lap, moaning without a care who hears them. Wanting them to hear, wanting them to know how hard Richie fucks him, and how much he enjoys it. 

That just for tonight, even if it's only tonight, Richie is his, just as Eddie is his.

Fucks him hard enough that he forgets his mom. Forgets her and her bullshit, and her fingers constricting around the back of his neck like an unseen vice. Forgets her self inflicted victim-hood, and crocodile cries. Forgot his job and his stress, building one on top of the other. Demands for more, bigger expectations, despite an ever growing in-box of paperwork, paperwork, paperwork! And clients surgery sweet knives, stabbing him, digging him right between the shoulder blades because its just One Simple Request, Eddie. One favor, one favor, one favor until its a million and one favors and he's rubbed to the bone, shiny and breakable, but it won't stop! Won't ever stop, so he drowns himself in Richie. 

Not on the bed, or on the wall, but face first against the large reinforced window of his hotel overlooking the city. Richie's fat cock pressing into him, as his vision blurs the lights below into a mass of colour, and all he thinks of is the man fucking him like he knows him. 

It doesn't make sense, but he fucks him like it’s the first, and last time. Fucks him till all Eddie cares about is more pleasure, more delicious burning pooling in his gut, his hot panting breath fogging the window, bracing himself on the sill with his arms. Fucking him deep and hard, right to the core, till Eddie's spilling across the wall and carpet in clear glops, and Richie grinds into his ass. Emptying himself into the condom with a groan. 

And for one peaceful, wonderful night, he feels like himself again. Not the man with a sickness called anger and bitterness stewing inside of him. But, Eddie, just Eddie. Normal, happy, content, Eddie. 

He doesn't see Richie after that night. Not until the Jade anyway.

But even while he forgets the face, the name, he doesn't forget that night. 

And the echo of the man who felt like home.

[iheardarumorxxx]

Midnight Sun, Chapter 2 - Open Book

Not even a full paragraph in and I have to call Weirdo on something. In the Twilight canon, it is often mentioned that vampires are always always always cold. Like, big old blocks of perfectly sculpted ice. But here, Eddie boy says that his skin had cooled to match the air around him. Can’t work that way. Either Pires are heat sinks that are always freezing, or their temperature can change based on the temperature around them. Can’t be both.

Also gonna bring up the chapter titles real quick. Maybe SM will try to hamfist it, but in Twilight the chapter titles were (supposedly) related to the chapter. First Sight was Bella (supposedly) falling in love at first sight w Edward, and Open Book was Bella going on about how she was an open book and couldn’t hide anything and wore her emotions on her face etc etc. It doesn’t make sense to me to keep the same chapter titles when we’re obstensively living in the head of a different character.

Would have been, if I'd been able to really see it.

What SM was going for here was ‘Edward was so lost in his own head that he couldn’t even see the sky above him even though it was beautiful’ but this doesn’t work. Wanna know why? It’s because of this:  The sky above me was clear, brilliant with stars, glowing blue in some places, yellow in others. The stars created majestic, swirling shapes against the black universe - an awesome sight

Weirdo described the sky with perfect, flowery detail, expressed outright the colors that were swirling above him and the way the stars swirled and made shapes. He wouldn’t have been able to do that if he was too focused on his own thoughts to pay attention to it. This is what I mean when I say that SM hasn’t really mastered the First Person POV. This would have absolutely worked if instead of ‘I’ it had said ‘he’. 

As a note: Weirdo calling Bella ‘unremarkable’ in terms of how she looks just comes off as those shitty ‘you aren’t even that hot’ responses from people when they get rejected.

And Weirdo describing the way Tanya leaps at him reads really flat and boring. The play by play method to show how Graceful and Ethereal the Pires are is gross and the flat emotionless tone makes it read like a laundry list of actions. 

Chagrin sighting number two. And I’ve gotta say, this little thing with Weirdo and Tanya reads a little more realistically than any interaction between our main couple throughout the entire Twilight Saga. Sure, Widdle Eddie isn’t into her, but they’re openly and honestly communicating about it, which is more than Bella and Weirdo ever did.

Mostly Tanya preferred human men

This sentence right here completely invalidates Weirdo’s entire argument about how he would murder Bella with his Schlong if he ever gave into his desire for her, as there is clearly a way to hook up with a pathetic, weak human without killing them.

Two chagrins in one chapter, I am blessed.

though her feelings were not deep, hardly pure, and, in any case, not something I could return.

This goes back to that thing I was bitching about in chapter one about Weirdo and only reading surface level thoughts. He isn’t an empath, he can’t descern from her surface thoughts how deep her feelings might be. Based on how his power comes across, it’s likely that he can’t actually interpret any kind of tone at all, and is guessing at the emotion behind the thought. Just because Tanya makes a passing thought about Eddie that may be ‘unpure’ (gag) doesn’t mean that her feelings for him are strictly lusty and naughty.

By the way, it’s only chapter two and I’m already sick of hearing about Bella’s ‘chocolate brown eyes’.

That time jump that they did from Snowy Alaska back to Fork High cafeteria was jarring. We have literally travelled through space time to get back to The Plot(tm) as quickly as possible. Maybe, just maybe, it would have been beneficial to see some of Weirdo’s drive back, get some more introspection, more of an idea of how he plans to handle himself re: The Bella Thing, even if it is in his whiny, affected urple prose.

Humans were constantly desperate to feel normal, to fit in. To blend in with everyone else around them, like a featureless flock of sheep.

Unlike our great, wonderful, perfect Pires, of course. They would never dare to try fitting in with the Sheep that they have decided to live among and try to blend in with. This goes to prove my point that SM’s Pires don’t give a flying shit about blending in with humans, even though it is supposedly Vampire Mafia Law that they don’t get exposed.

"Maybe you're not as scary as you think you are,"

Despite the fact that SM tries so hard to make him come off as the stereotype of ‘dumb jock’, Emmett deserves a better series than this one. Not being afraid to roast Weirdo is absolutely fucking A+ in my book.

We are, yet again, applying Pire logic and physics to not Pire things to show how Strong and Powerful and Amazing our Pires are. I must once again posit that these things are not Pires, and therefore, would not behave in this manner, even when a Pire is interacting with it.

I am once again unconvinced by this Let’s Shit On Jessica Stanley thing I’m having to schlock through. Sure, she’s a lil petty, but she doesn’t come across as overt mean girl bully and she never has. SM never made her feel like anything more than a (in fairness, extremely stereotypical) teenage girl trying to be nice to the new girl in school and being put off by her weird behavior.

Small point to make here, just because I realized how bored I was with the debate over whether Weirdo would go to class and murder Bella or not. Because this is a companion piece to an already published novel, we know what’s gonna happen. Now, a good author wouldn’t let that stop them from making the tension feel real. Even though I know the outcome, I would still be focused on the journey to get there. But I’m not, because it reads as dry and dull. The tension isn’t there and I’m not enjoying the journey to get to the ending I already know. The characters aren’t even likeable enough to keep me entertained. This is why companion pieces and POV shift retellings are so hard to do.

it was hard to believe that anyone so vulnerable could ever justify hatred.

I feel like this is supposed to be the first lil glimmer that Weirdo is In LUV with Bella or whatever in this POV, but the thing is, his patronizing tone and the way he is seemingly always going on about how weak and pathetic Bella is just kinda makes it feel like he’s acting like her Dad. 

Though they didn't want to stand out from the herd, at the same time they craved a spotlight for their individual uniformity.

I only have one thing to say about this. Fuck You Edward Cullen.

I feel like Weirdo is starting to craft this idea of Bella in his head, much like he does with everyone else, but because he doesn’t have the crutch of using his surface thought mind reading powers, he has to guess at her thoughts (much like typical normal human people do because we’re weak and pathetic unlike the Pires), and he’s basically assigning her the thoughts he thinks she should be having. He’s crafting Bella into the perfect ideal for himself without taking her atonomy into consideration.

"Ladies first, partner?"

This is a continuity error. In Twilight, he did not say ‘Partner’, just ‘Ladies first’. It’s nitpickey, and I’m aware that it’s nitpickey, but it’s jarring if you know Twilight well enough to know the dialogue. If we’re going to see the same scene from a different POV, the only thing changing should be the inner monologue, not the dialogue between characters.

I could feel myself warming slightly to the higher temperature.

Bzzzzt, no. I already talked about this earlier, but everything established in canon shows that Eddie doesn’t ever warm up. He and Bella cuddle under a blanket and he is still described as rock hard marble adonis ice. He can’t warm up, according to established canon.

And in this chapter, we finally start the Shitting On Mike Newton run. Mike is the fucking worst in this book and is treated like shit, all because -- can you guess??? -- all because he thought the new girl was pretty and had a little crush on her. Mike gets shit on SO FUCKING MUCH in this series just for daring to think Bella is pretty.

Ignorance was bliss to the human mind.

OR EDDIE YOU’RE JUST ARROGANT AND RUDE AND NOT AS INTERESTING AS YOU THINK YOU ARE. The Cullens fucking PRANCE around this school in their designer beige turtlenecks with their flashy fucking cars and look down their noses at the pleb humans who could never be as good as they are, and especially with the way SM wants to paint Forks as this fucking insular hick town where everyone knows everyone and are probably socioeconomically lower than American average, its RUDE AND GROSS and makes them look like stuck up fucking JERKS. But sure. Keep touting on about how humans are scared of you.

And yet again, we get an example of Eddie boy ignoring the fact that Bella (for all of her faults) is a HUMAN PERSON and not some game for him to play. ‘Wahhh, I can’t read her thoughts, that makes me angy and frustrated’ and whining about how he wants her to GO AWAY because her blood makes his froat hurt but how he wants her to stay because she’s so MYSTERIOUS AND DEEP. 

This didn't fit with the scenario I'd been constructing in my head.

And this is exactly the point I was making up there. Edward is making wild assumptions about Bella based solely on his experience with the human condition from his immortality, but he is also crafting her into what HE thinks is the right way for her to be in his mind without taking into consideration that she is a complex human with feelings and emotions. But instead of actually correcting himself, he continues to do this, and we know he does because he continues to posit that she’s deep and wise even though we know different from being in her POV for three and a half books. 

A lot more of this dialogue is changed from the conversation in the original Twilight than I thought. It should be easy to keep at least the dialogue consistent.

I clearly was not as perceptive as I gave myself credit for.

This is the most true thing that Eddie is going to think in this entire book, and it isn’t even genuine and that upsets me so much.

my mother always calls me her open book.

I would like to use my solid four years of Twilight knowledge to point out that Bella Swan is not an open book, she’s a lying liar who lies about things, even though she says all the time that she doesn’t like lying. She was always going on about how she fakes her emotions for the benefits of others, she is not an open book at all.

The reason she was upset was because she thought I saw through her too easily.

And, of course, Weirdo eats this shit right the fuck up.

"I find you very difficult to read." "You must be a good reader then,"

This exchange didn’t make sense in Twilight, and it still doesn’t make sense here. Unless Bella is being sarcastic based on her previous statement, the exchange just... isn’t good. And it’s pretty clear that Bella isn’t being sarcastic. So. Explain it, someone, pls.

Emmett still deserves a better book than this one. He is literally out here like ‘Everyone makes mistakes, Eddie boy.’ But we are still talking about murder here, so... 

And that’s chapter two. I didn’t mean to do it all in one long post, but I couldn’t really see a good break in it to cut it in half. The human bashing is already getting worse and it’s making me annoyed. As you can probably tell from the Cap Locks. We get the first glimpse of Eddie being ‘protective’ that we know is gonna get creepy and paternal as the story goes along. And I know that SM was going for an old timey thing with Eddie, but Bella’s inner monologue was really dry and boring, and Weirdo is even worse in that area. Yet again, we see the First Person POV slipping. Little things that just don’t work in Eddie’s head.

Join me tomorrow for more, and thanks for reading along. 

[artificialqueens]

Nostalgia, Part 6 (Rujubee) - Dartmouth420

nostalgia is a series that follows the re-ignition of raven/jujubee’s friendship (with benefits) while jujubee competes on all stars five and raven is working on set. there will be one chapter for every episode of AS5 where jujubee appears. drag names used with male pronouns.

summary: Sewing challenges aren’t easy, and Jujubee’s just trying to keep his head above water… but two certain individuals are making waves.

a/n: apparently I can’t write anything without it devolving into angst so, uh… sorry not sorry?

tw: angst, love triangle, mild dom/sub dynamics, degrading language, smut

Jujubee threw a hand out to steady himself against the bathroom wall as Raven dropped to his knees before him, tore open his belt with frantic hands, got his rapidly hardening cock out of his briefs and ran his tongue down the length of it and took it in his mouth.

Jujubee grimaced and ran his hand over Raven’s head, holding onto the back of his skull, and pulled him closer, pushing his cock deeper into Raven’s throat. Raven took it like a pro, as usual, no sign of a gag reflex in sight.

“You filthy fucking bitch,” muttered Jujubee, and Raven managed a weird muffled laugh, despite his mouth being very much occupied.

-

It had begun earlier, after his conversation with RuPaul. Ru had decided he was going dig deep today and while Jujubee knew it was coming he wasn’t particularly comfortable with the conversation. He couldn’t just brush the personal conversation off however, it was part of the show. But RuPaul was not a trained psychologist, and he was dredging up some sensitive shit. Jujubee needed a moment to himself afterwards, off camera. 

So Jujubee left the Werkroom and wandered down the hallways backstage to compose himself. He took off his glasses and dabbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist. Maybe he’d go outside to smoke for a few minutes.

But then he looked up to see who else but Raven coming around the corner, tossing some comment over his shoulder at someone Jujubee couldn’t see. Raven paused when he saw him, and Jujubee looked away. He didn’t particularly feel like dealing with Raven right now, their argument the previous night had left a bad taste in his mouth. He quickly put his glasses back on.

Raven didn’t seem like he wanted anything to do with Jujubee either, and he walked past him with a stiff hello and hardly a glance.

But then he’d stopped and turned.

“You good?” asked Raven. 

“Fine, fine.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed, “Ru’s been playing therapist again.”

Jujubee shrugged, “I’m good, I just needed a break.”

“Alright, well-” Raven took a few steps back and then he stopped again.

“So, do you want company, were you going for a smoke or-?” he asked, and then glanced up and down the hall before inclining his head towards Jujubee, suggestive, “Would you rather…?”

The tension spiked between them, and Jujubee rocked on his heels. It was a bad idea. Literally the day after they’d had a conversation, well, an argument about professionalism and how they interacted on set. There was power sliding around between them again, but it felt different this time. It was easy, too easy-

Gripped with impulse, Jujubee said, “Show me where, bitch.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Raven, his expression shifting, coy, and then he turned, heading down the hallway. Jujubee followed him, his heart accelerating.

-

Jujubee snapped back to the present, where Raven was going to town on his cock with one very clear goal, just like that first delicious encounter a few weeks ago. Jujubee let out a steadying breath, trying to keep himself under control. But control was something he very much lacked right now. Raven had it, today. Unusual. A little discomforting.

But instead of doing anything about it, Jujubee surrendered, barely holding himself up against the wall. One of Raven’s hands was wrapped around the base of his cock and the other holding his hip, then reaching behind knead his ass. He watched Raven’s head bob rapidly, utterly shameless, those stupid fucking lips of his saliva-slicked. Raven’s expression was focused, with a mischievous undertone, and he was clearly enjoying himself, doing things with his tongue that should be made illegal in every state.

Fuck, Raven’s mouth was warm and wet and perfect-

“Shit fuck shit, I’m gonna come-”

When it was over and Jujubee felt less like he was astral-projecting into sex heaven, he blinked hard and looked around. Raven wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, shook his head once and stood. Jujubee quickly tucked himself back into his briefs and did up his pants.

Raven made a strange half-motion like he wanted to lean in and kiss him, but then appeared to think the better of it.

The tension was back, but it was awkward. 

“Well, I have to go make a dress, so,” said Jujubee, motioning vaguely.

“Right, yeah.”

Jujubee pushed himself off the wall, looking away, and turned towards the door. Their conversation from the night before hadn’t led to any real conclusions. While this quick, distracting fuck in the bathroom meant Jujubee’s own personal life traumas were no longer as close to the surface (thanks, Ru), he also didn’t like the lack of control, the sheer impulsiveness that came over him around Raven. Like he was being pulled in by Raven’s own chaotic energy. He needed to return to his normal, chill state.

“From what I remember, you don’t sew,” said Raven. Jujubee glanced back at him.

“Not really, but I’ll make it work.”

“At the end of the day a dress is just a tube of fabric, so-”

“So don’t overthink it?” cut in Jujubee, teasing.

“Just make sure it looks good,” replied Raven, with a smirk that held a challenge.

“Well,” said Jujubee, unlocking the door and pulling it open, “That won’t be too difficult, will it?”

-

He would never be a great seamstress, considered Jujubee as he laid his barbecue items out, but he could make it work. As Raven had said, a dress was basically a tube of fabric and it was all about embellishment and presentation. Bianca had won Season Six wearing the same dress every week, so Jujubee figured he could wrangle something that looked just about as good if he styled it right. Shea was proving extremely helpful and kind in that department, Jujubee’s own janky seams aside.

His feelings of discomfort faded and he found he was having a great time with everyone, especially Cracker and Shea. Jujubee cut out watermelon pieces and built his outfit, and messed around with Alexis and the whole India-leaving-notes drama. 

Jujubee was… what was it the kids said these days? Oh yes, vibing.

Time to write a monologue, bitch.

“I’m gonna wear this macramé dress I brought,” announced Cracker, sitting down next to Jujubee with their notepads out, scratching out ideas.

“Full Stevie Nicks realness, huh?” replied Jujubee, nudging Cracker with his elbow.

“Oh girl, I grew up in the sitcks,” laughed Cracker, “I may work in New York but I’ve got country roots. I know exactly the hick woman I’m writing here.”

“I’ve mostly lived in Boston,” replied Jujubee, tilting his head to one side. Cracker had been friendly the past couple weeks since their encounter in abandoned equipment room, even bordering on flirtatious, and Jujubee was growing to appreciate him as a friend as much as a competitor. “But in Laos there were what we referred to as the hill people.”

“Inspiration for your drag, I take it?”

Jujubee burst into laughter, slapping the table. Fuck, Cracker was funny. Cracker grinned back at him and even Blair joined in, and sending a gentle read their way.

-

As promised, Raven didn’t interrupt Jujubee again while he was filming. Unfortunately, Jujubee couldn’t tell if Raven was doing as he’d requested out of actual respect for his wishes or merely performing obedience to play into their power exchange. The fact that Jujubee couldn’t discern Raven’s usually very transparent thought process was a little unnerving.

The challenge happened, and the runway happened and the post-elimination discussion happened and Jujubee was goddamn tired. Raven was still nowhere to be seen, for which Jujubee was simultaneously grateful and disappointed.

They were ferried back to the hotel and Shea gave Blair some words of encouragement as they headed up their rooms. Cracker caught up with Jujubee.

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“I’m alright,” replied Jujubee. He was very tired. But here they were, the top four and there was something invigorating about it, the competitiveness and determination growing under his skin. The crown was in his sights.

“Does your room have a balcony?” asked Cracker, “Mine doesn’t and I’d rather not go all the way downstairs again to have a smoke… ”

“It does,” said Jujubee, pausing and considering Cracker’s intentions. Their interaction in the abandoned equipment room hadn’t been unpleasant. And well, Jujubee wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with him and Raven. Things had been left unresolved. But Cracker made for good company. “Yeah, I’d like a smoke too, honestly. Come in.”

Jujubee turned and unlocked his door with a flick of the key card. As intended, the bedsheets had been changed and the room no longer smelled like he’d had spent all night fucking Raven, thank god. 

“Congrats on your win,” said Jujubee, turning to Cracker, “I want to snatch up that twenty thousand next week, let me tell you that much.”

Cracker chuckled, nodding in response, “Yeah, thank you. This whole thing is such a trip. I loved your dress, by the way.”

“I know how to do one thing, and it’s make sure a tube of fabric looks good,” replied Jujubee, opening his bag to look for his vape pen. 

“You know, it took me a little while to warm up to you,” said Cracker over his shoulder, walking around the bed towards the sliding doors of the balcony, “You early season girls are intense.”

“The show was different back then,” shrugged Jujubee, briefly checking out Cracker’s ass as he followed him, and wondering where exactly this conversation might go, “But I’m the chillest one of the lot.”

“Well, I’ve heard Raja can smoke anybody under the table-”

There was a knock at the door. Cracker looked up, frowning with surprise and Jujubee’s stomach dropped. There was only one person that could be. As he walked back across the room to the door he hoped it would be anybody else, Shea or Blair, or even some random PA, but-

Jujubee opened the door to Raven. 

Raven had his arms crossed and looked, well, he looked annoyed but that was just the way his silicone-filled lips sat on his face. Resting bitch, as it were. He also looked vaguely apologetic. 

“Hey,” said Raven, with a quick smile, “I saw you managed to pull that dress together.”

Jujubee nodded, “I did. Thanks.”

“So, uh, look,” continued Raven, “What I said the other night was bullshit. I’m okay to keep this more on the down-low if you want, like with today-”

But he paused, looking over Jujubee’s shoulder, a frown crossing his face. Jujubee glanced behind himself and noticed Cracker approaching.

“What is he doing in here?” demanded Raven.

“Having a smoke on the balcony,” replied Jujubee quickly. This was… not ideal. Uh oh.

“Well, we’re both contestants on a certain reality TV show,” answered Cracker dryly, standing next to Jujubee in the doorway, making it very clear that he wouldn’t be inviting Raven in, “But I don’t think you are anymore. So I could ask you the same thing.”

“Back off, you know I work on set. I just want to talk to him-”

“Little late, isn’t it?”

They both looked to Jujubee. Jujubee resisted the urge to laugh hysterically. This gay posturing was hilarious, it was like a telenovella. As entertained as Jujubee was, here were two people who he both very much wanted to fuck, and they were both mad as hell to see the other. How fun.

“I mean,” said Jujubee with a suggestive, flirtatious shrug, “Since you’re both here… and there’s only one bed…?”

It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

But Raven just rolled his eyes and Cracker raised his eyebrows at Jujubee incredulously. 

“I’m not particularly interested in that slice of burnt toast,” deadpanned Cracker, eyeing the visible sliver of Raven’s heavily tanned chest, where his shirt was unbuttoned.

Raven made a noise like an angry cat and Jujubee coughed violently to cover his laugh. But then Raven turned to Jujubee, and head cocked to the side expectantly, lips pressed together. 

A beat passed and Raven demanded, “What, you’re just going to stand there and let him insult me?”

“You can fight your own battles,” responded Jujubee, uneasy. Was Raven expecting a display of authority, as per their agreement-

“So you’re not gonna read me?” said Cracker to Raven, amused, “Gone soft in your old age?”

“Oh bitch when I come for you, you’ll know!” snapped Raven back to Cracker, taking a step towards him. That was not good, Jujubee needed to deescalate this right now-

But Cracker responded first with a snort of derision, not even remotely intimidated, and turned back to Jujubee, “Look, whatever history you two have is your own business. But come find me when you need something more interesting than whatever that is.”

Cracker cut eyes at Raven who glared back and snapped an insult as Cracker stepped through the doorway and brushed past him, heading down the hall to his room. Jujubee sighed and looked back Raven, who’s jaw was once again set in a way that guaranteed an argument.

“Okay, I see how it is,” said Raven, embittered and angry, “You and your double standards. You think I’d come all the way up here and, and offer to adjust for anyone else but you? Like I don’t have better places to be right now!? Do you think this is a fucking joke-”

Jujubee sighed and ran a hand over his face. Nostalgia was a complicated emotion. It was so tempting to fall into, warm, familiar, and deceptive. Jujubee tried to avoid it when it came to looking back on his own self-destructive behaviour, and there’d been so much change and self-reflection involved in finally getting sober. There’d been a lot of people he’d had to leave behind. But somehow Raven always clung on, their friendship was long and complex and unfortunately pretty public-

But maybe the time was up, considered Jujubee as he tuned out the rest of Raven’s increasingly malicious rant. Raven was self-centered, inconsistent, and tied up in some of the messiest parts of Jujubee’s past. In fact, Raven was complicit in, or at least present for, the harmful behaviour that had dragged Jujubee down for so long. Finally there was silence, and it stretched out between them.

“I don’t think you’re good for me anymore,” said Jujubee quietly, resting his hand against the doorframe and holding eye contact.

Raven’s mouth fell open and a hurt expression flashed across his face.

“Well, I-” managed Raven, “Well… fuck.”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed off down the hall. 

Healing was painful, considered Jujubee as he shut the door, the ache settling in below his ribs. Healing really fucking hurt. But hopefully saying no to Raven would be like tearing off a band-aid. A dirty, nasty band-aid that had been siting there for so long it felt like it was practically part of his skin. A band-aid that really, really, did not want to come off.

Fuck was right.

[chayanne-z]

I know it’s wrong, but it’s so hard to stop it alone (I can reach out to someone not like me)

Quirks are a mysterious phenomenon. Sure you could study quirk genetics as you would with any other science, but do not forget that science is just magic that can be explained. Unfortunately for everyone living with quirks, there can be unforeseen consequences. Have you ever thought (and I mean really thought) about how the quirk gene affects the DNA, about how the body compensates for these supernatural abilities? One girl, Momo Yaoyorozu , thinks about this every day. Sure there are quirks that are not compatible with the person's body, such as Yuga Aoyama or Izuku Midoriya, but that is not Momo's problem. No, her problem is that her quirk is too compatible with her body And that is something that is constantly plaguing her mind.

momojiro, as well as Midoriya and Yaoyorozu friendship

read on AO3

Chapter 1:

Mirror mirror on the wall

Tunnel vision on the flaws

In the scale of things it's unimportant

So no talking but it's still an intrusive thought

I'm shivering and shaking, and I tell myself it's fine, but

You can't fool your body, you can only fool your mind

Quirks are a mysterious phenomenon. Sure you could study quirk genetics as you would with any other science, but do not forget that science is just magic that can be explained. Unfortunately for everyone living with quirks, there can be unforeseen consequences. Have you ever thought (and I mean really thought) about how the quirk gene affects the DNA, about how the body compensates for these supernatural abilities? One girl, Momo Yaoyorozu, thinks about this every day. Sure there are quirks that are not compatible with the person's body, such as Yuga Aoyama or Izuku Midoriya, but that is not Momo's problem. No, her problem is that her quirk is too compatible with her body And that is something that is constantly plaguing her mind.

I can reach out

To someone not like me

If you ask for help it doesn't make you´re weak

Being an underground hero meant that being observant was essential for survival, this was undoubtedly something Aizawa knew. As a UA teacher, he had to use his quirk on his students often, in an attempt to prepare them not to rely on their quirk so much. Every time he used his quirk on a certain student, Momo Yaoyorozo, he could see a brief flash of panic run across her eyes, before she regained her composure. He chalked it up to the fact that since her quirk was extremely strong, she was less confident in her abilities outside of it. He earnestly tried gently encouraging her in his own ¨Aizawa¨ way whenever they practice combat without quirks (the ¨encouragement¨ consisted mostly of telling her that she ¨did ok¨ but that was really the most praise you could get out of him.) Shockingly, despite Aizawa´s best efforts Yaoyorozu still always flinched when she felt her quirk depart from her body. This really made Aizawa sad, try as he might to conceal his feelings, he deeply genuinely cared about his students. He didn't have favorites but if he did, Yaoyorozu would be rightfully it (Shinsou doesn't count since he is his son.) Yaoyorozu by heart was a studious young girl; who had ambition, skills, and never goofed off. So why she was so deeply insecure, Aizawa didn't know.

He thinks he started to piece it together when he overheard ¨The 1A Gurlz¨ (as they have affectionately dubbed themselves) discussing the topic of motherhood after class.

¨I don't know if I'll want children, maybe someday, though it's unlikely, kero¨, Tsuyu said.

¨HELL NO, I don't got time for kids when I'm a hero¨ said Mina.

¨Hell yeah, stick it to the patriarchy!¨ Jiro fist-bumped her pink friend's fist.

¨I kinda agree with Mina, I like the idea of children, but heroes are awfully busy. Plus what if it puts the child at risk since villains would target them¨. Uraraka said.

The rest of the girls nodded understandingly but Hagakure sighed, ¨Still I'd love to be a mother one day¨.

Jiro rolled her eyes, ¨you´re such a romantic, Hagakure, no wonder Ojiro is head-over-heels in love with you¨. She tried to give her invisible friend a playful shove, but missed and had to promptly catch herself. Hagakure´s quirk meant that her skin cells refract the light around her making her invisible. Unfortunately, this did not apply to her blood cells; she was blushing beet red. She stammered a lot until Tsuyu interjected with a question she had.

¨Would a Hagakure-Ojiro child be visible but with an invisible tail?¨

¨Or maybe they would be all invisible except for the tail!”, Ururaka exclaimed

¨so you would just see a floating tail?¨ Mina asked. The girls burst out with laughter (even Yaoyorozu, who throughout the conversation has remained stiff and quiet, started to giggle).

¨What about you Momo? You've been awfully quiet ¨ Uraraka turned to Momo. Now all the attention was on Yaoyorozu, and she did her best not to look visibly distressed.

” You ok ‘Mo?” Jiro quietly asked, always showing concern for her girlfriend.

¨I-I I'm fine! Um, I just...¨, Yaoyorozu stammered, ¨I´d sincerely like to be a mother one day...b-but I'd probably have to adopt since...you know...¨ Jiro and Yaoyorozu both blushed and looked elsewhere, ¨also I worry… about...some unintended ramifications of my DNA if their quirk is...Not...” Yaoyorozu trailed off. The lunch bell rang and “The 1A Gurlz” left, Yaoyorozu stayed behind for a second before taking a deep breath and walking out the door. Aizawa was extremely concerned, to say the least, he made a note to keep an eye on Yaoyorozu to make sure she was safe.

Kyoka Jiro was a very insecure girl, sure at first glance, she seemed confident and stand-offish that was not at all how she felt inside. She cringes at the memory of being sad that m*neta wasn’t harassing her but harassing all the other 1A Gurlz. Internalized misogyny was SO not punk rock. Sure she liked being her authentic self but there were times she wished her authentic self was seen as normal. It took her a long time to accept her feelings for Momo, and even longer to actually ask her out. But- it was ‘Mo; beautiful, smart, badass MOMO! How could she deny or hide her feelings for such a wonderful girl? Gradually with the help of her friends, Kyoka started increasing her confidence. Kyoka recognized that Momo was just as insecure as she was, though she could never understand why. Why would someone as competent, skilled, and amazing as Yaoyorozu Momo not be able to recognize how she lights up everybody’s life? Nevertheless, she recognized that ‘Mo was in pain, and she needed to support her. She just wasn’t sure how. At lunch Momo looked down at her food sadly, she still ate, thank goodness, Kyoka thought. Though Momo was always a stickler for portion control, what she ate, and when. Come to think of it , Kyoka pursed her lips, s he’s always been a little obsessive when it comes to food. Make no mistake Momo was not starving herself. She consistently made sure she had enough to eat- her quirk depended on it after all. Knowing ‘Mo it’s probably a system designed specifically for her quirk -that nerd, Kyoka thought to herself with a smile, still she does put an awful lot of planning into what she eats.

After lunch, the young couple headed toYaoyorozu's dorm to study. Jiro was a bit behind so she was grateful for the extra help. Kyoka sat comfortably on Momo's bed, her head resting peacefully on her lap as they head the hero studies textbook together. It was serene and peaceful. Momo cherished these small and intimate moments with her partner. We´ve been through so much lately... it was nice for the biggest problem to be an upcoming exam, she thought with a smile. T hick thighs save lives, Kyoka thought happily as she absentmindedly patted her GF's thigh. She then felt Momo tense up from underneath her when she did that.

¨...’Mo?¨

¨Hm? Yes?¨

¨What's wrong?¨

¨N-nothing! I'm fine!", Momo looked away and clutched her stomach.

¨Momo...¨ Kyoka rolled over and gently took her girlfriend's graceful hands in her own. ¨you're beautiful you know that right?¨

Momo blushed, ¨as are you, Kyoka¨. Kyoka´s placed her hand on Momo's face and slowly bridged the gap, as they shared a tender kiss.

[justjessame]

Silence Chapter 4

As we grew closer to the meeting point, Negan grew quieter. A blessing AND a curse.

I’d never been gifted at guessing anyone’s age. Even prior to the world aging everyone at an average of five years a fucking week, I sucked at it. The woman waiting for us could have been around my age, or she could have been closer to my mother’s age, had she survived giving me life. She doesn’t seem to take notice of me at all, which gives me time to study her and try to make some sense of her and Negan’s exchange, but that seems less than helpful.

Mostly Negan seems lacking in her esteem.

From their back and forth I gather that it took him far longer to murder/assasinate/decapitate Alpha than the woman he addressed as Carol had expected. While he had technically fulfilled his part of the deal, she wanted more time to complete hers. Instead of rushing to Alexandria, the community they were a part of, she wanted time alone to process. Since I have no background and it would appear that I gained the power of invisibility- Wait, if I was invisible, why not take advantage?

I was about to do just that when the slight movement caught my captor’s keen eye. Damn it.

“Elara,” his tone sounds pleading and my eyes close in an attempt at gaining strength. “Please.”

I go with him, again, and he tells me about Alpha’s daughter. Lydia, a name I didn’t know, but a child I vaguely recalled from the sightings of their group during my travels. He’d hidden her in another spot, to keep her safe from a mother who wanted to end her life. Together we go to the cabin, another of my haunts, one that I use sparingly and only during the harshest weather. When Negan enters first and a fist connects with his face, I’m stunned into submission. A wild, crossbow wielding man stands demanding answers, and I have to say, I’m both impressed and slightly terrified.

“Where’s Alpha?” He’s growling, and I blurt it out. That she’s dead, that her head is lodged on a pike at the border of their lands. “The hell are you?”

I’m glaring now. “Nice of you to ask that NOW.” I manage to bite out with an eye roll. “I’m no one of importance, clearly. Think of me as just an innocent pedestrian.” Innocent pedestrian who’s been taken hostage by a maniac, and then kidnapped by a redneck crossbow freak. My day gets better and better.

“She’s dead?” His eyes land on me again, and I nod. “Do you even know who she is?” the ability this man has to doubt my intelligence both impressive and irritating. Seriously.

“Yeah. Dumpy. Gross. Whispery. Hick. Creepy as FUCK?” Pointing with my thumb at Negan, I tell a secret that even I wish I wasn’t privy to. “He played ‘hide the pickle’ with her.”

I wish I had a camera and film. Something, ANYTHING to capture the looks on their faces. They were PRICELESS. And Negan’s sputtering attempts at explanations.

“Why’d you kill her?” Crossbow was lowered from my person, so now they could get down to the nitty gritty, I guessed. I relaxed marginally, pulling my pack from my back and sitting down.

Negan had recovered from the horrifying knowledge that I’d managed to get Alpha Does Negan Live and in Living Color quickly and started tossing shots about Daryl’s ‘girlfriend’ and some more back and forth that made me consider how many puddles of manly piss I was going to have to dodge before I could escape the testosterone fueled wonderland I’d wandered into.

Eventually Daryl insisted that we vacate the cabin. I started to argue, but I got fucking overruled. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a fucking wonderful good goddamn reason why I am NOT a joiner. Then he went a step further and tied up Negan for the trip.

“Bondage?” My eyebrow raised as I took in the ropes being tied around Negan’s limbs. “Kinky much?” Their heads raised, eyes locked on me as I kept my voice down from habit. “First the whipping thing in the forest, now ropes in this cabin-”

I’d done it again, I created a vacuum of awkwardness. Good. Now maybe they would let me-

“Come on, smart mouth-” the gruff roughneck muttered, pulling Negan’s bonds. “Let’s get goin’.”

We head back toward the fucking border. Negan and Daryl having more back and forth and I feel like the third wheel in the WORST version of a buddy cop/odd couple movie ever optioned. I’m tired, I’m bored, and I am very much overloaded on the too peopley button.

When we get to the border I nearly scream. Her head is fucking gone. And of course, Daryl the wonder brain thinks this means Negan is lying, and by extension he somehow has manipulated me into being his bard. Because Negan is so fucking what? Charismatic that my brain melted and I IMAGINED what I fucking witnessed. Um, OK.

“I saw what I saw,” I offered, moving forward toward the pike where I’d watched Carol pop the weird fucking prop earlier. “They’d never leave her here.” I muttered, thinking about her pack. “They’re creatures of habit. This line is for enemies. For the disgraced. For showing who has been taught a lesson and for a reminder. She was their leader, their saint. They’d never demean her and leave her here.”

“Are you saying-” Negan was watching me like he’d never seen me before, and he probably hadn’t. Not like this, not as the academic version of myself.

“Pack animals, or people who are pretending they’re pack animals, are habitual. Whereas they line their border as a warning for those who break ranks, they would never show their own loss or mourning in the same horrifying light.” I sighed, looking at each spot that was empty. “The last time these pikes were filled, they were filled with-” I looked at Daryl. “Your people?” His nod was curt. “Putting her head here, that’s an act of war and aggression, I hope she knew that.” I was talking about Carol, and I know that they both knew it. “You know that the leader role goes to-” I didn’t have a chance to finish. Men.

They argue about whether Negan enjoyed his time with Alpha, a gruesome topic so I went back to studying the pikes. The markers, the ground. One day, very soon, they’d learn who the new Alpha was, and I REALLY hoped they were both together and I got to see it. Fucking ignoring males.

Daryl gives up on waiting for the elusive Carol’s return to the pike line. He insists that I accompany him and Negan back to Alexandria, and I feel like a prisoner that Negan once mentioned being. Although to be fair, neither of us were bound when we arrived.

I was given a room in a house, and a little girl, inquisitive and cute, wearing an odd hat came to greet me.

“Hello, I’m Judith Grimes,” she was wearing a gun that was almost as long as her forearm and a katana was strapped to her back. I was impressed despite myself.

“Elara,” I held out my hand and hoped I was smiling. Negan stood beside me and she grinned up at him, which I found strange. “I think you must know this one-” I gestured to him dismissively as she shook my hand with gusto.

“Oh me and Miss Grimes are old friends,” he was close enough that his body head was bleeding into me. He didn’t say another word, but she nodded toward a building nearby and his head gave a small tilt that could mean a number of things. “Do you mind showing Elara around?”

“Course not,” her smile grew, and my tour began as Negan headed off toward the buildings nearby.

The community was impressive, but I missed the wildness of the forest. Even the shower and the bed in my temporary room wasn’t tempting enough to make me want to stay. My fingers felt around the window frame, tugging until I could open it enough to get a bit of a breeze flowing. Sighing at that tiny shred of freshness, I sat down on the soft bed and pulled my notebook out of my pack and the pen free from its pocket to fill in the blanks since my last attempt.

I was still writing when I heard the small notice go up that Carol had come back.

The first warnings come and I find it lucky that I wasn’t attached to my new digs. Moving again, this time to an abandoned hospital, a tower where we divy up the chores and tasks, something I am more than capable of aiding and abetting, regardless of how often I’ve managed to run and hide to survive.

I haven’t seen Negan since he rushed off during my tour with Judith and I hadn’t spared much thought for him. I updated my history of the times, so to speak. I managed a nap, for which I was certain to be thankful for later. I’m sent to search for Negan at some point, seemingly to make sure he’s behaving himself, much to my chagrin, and I find him with a young woman. Thinking that I could do with one less Naken Negan Fun Times scarred into my psyche, I’m about to turn and go, when I hear her tell him that most people had hoped he would have died while he was gone as well as Alpha. Oh dear.

I sigh, louder than intended and the dog with the two of them alert them. Shit. “Sorry, I was sent to do a head count.” Using an exaggerated finger point, I do so. “One, two, and puppy makes three,” I’m turning to go, when the girl brushes past me. Fuck fuck fuck. I stop and drop my head. Dear God, if you’d like to do me a serious solid, let this fucking floor swallow me right fucking now. Please. Amen.

“Elara,” quiet again, not pleading, just quiet. Tired. I turned back to see that the dog went with her. Lydia, it must have been Alpha’s daughter, cleaner than I’d ever seen her, but clearly taking her mother’s demise well. He looks beat, worse than I’ve seen him. Not that I’d seen him all that much. Christ. “Come here for a second?”

“I was sent to find you anyway, so look at me, first day on the job and already head of the curve.” I walked closer. “You can’t force it, you know that, right?”

“Who are you?” He was leaning against a wall, staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time again, always so surprised. “Seriously.”

I shook my head. “A lifelong student.” I mirrored his posture and sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Negan. Who I was, who I am? None of it matters anymore.” I shrugged. “Nuggets of knowledge, that’s all I have.”

“How do I help her?” He wanted to, it was so clear and heavy. His need to make it right. To fix it for Lydia. “How can I make her feel-”

“Better?” I was staring at him like he was crazy, because it was insane. “Negan, her mother is dead. You killed her. Her mother wanted to kill HER. There’s no easy fix for that.” I shook my head. “Lydia’s a victim and has been one since the moment she drew her first breath. Until she comes to terms with that, and the mixed up shitstorm of fucking modpodge of shit that she feels for that woman who birthed her? She can’t grieve it, she can’t let it go, she can’t fix it and feel all better.” I pushed off the wall and started for the doorway. “If she can’t, then I hate to tell you Mr. He-Man Alphamale, you haven’t got a prayer.”

I hear that the horde is coming, and calls to each post. Daryl asked that I’m found and given a position near Carol, since he noted my bow and I suspect that he chose to believe it was more than an accessory. She too is an archer, and as I move to stand beside her, I suddenly feel less invisible.

“Didn’t really get a chance to speak before,” she says, as she checks her bow one last time, and I too am doing final checks. “I’m Carol.”

“Elara,” I offer, notching an arrow and readying my first shot. “Are we aiming for walkers first, or Whispering freaks?”

The flurry of activity keeps my mind from thinking about the endings. Endings are the WORST when you become a joiner. It’s why I stay apart. It’s why I don’t introduce myself or learn names or sleep in beds or-

Cause the endings come after the battles you don’t run from and you see the girls or boys you spoke with and learned about piled high or tossed like dolls thrown aside by irate toddlers at the end of a destructive playtime. Endings ruin walls and people and destroy bodies and lives. There are always the both sides' arguments, but the truth is that there is a good side and a bad side, but when the bodies are stacked, when the limbs are entwined and the blood is splashed around, I dare you to separate it into good and bad.

Carol and Lydia lemur the horde, from what I hear later, as I’m being bandaged on wounds that I didn’t notice being given. I’m not present when Negan’s given the title I knew he’d accidentally earned with his decapitation of Lydia’s mother, for which I will FOREVER be saddened, but the look of shock on his face when he tells me about it later, much much later when we have a quiet moment alone will forever be etched in my memory banks.

When he tells me that he and Lydia have made a sort of peace, I roll my eyes.

“What? I didn’t push her.” A raised eyebrow and his smirk is my answer. “I think my charm is growing on you, Elara.”

“You mean like fungi?” I ask, trying to sit up, but he won’t allow it. “I am NOT an invalid.”

“No, but you do have a head wound, you stubborn-” and then he does something that shocks me enough to render me immobile. His lips touch mine, a slight brush, enough to stop me from moving, but not enough to make me freak completely out and hit him.

Not to be outdone, as he’s about to pull back, my hands, traitors that they are, slide through that hack job of a haircut and hold him to me. I can feel the smirk return as his lips press back against mine, but I could give a shit as my mouth opens in invitation and he takes it. His tongue touches mine and then his arms are around my back and I’m not prone anymore, but sitting on his lap wrapped around him. My teeth tease his now kiss swelling lower lip, and he groans as he pulls back.

“We shouldn’t.” That’s my cue to groan. “You have a head wound, Elara, and as much as I want to,” he shifts and I feel just how fucking much he WANTS to. “We can’t. Not yet.”

I shake my head. “Where’s pervert Negan?” I mutter, flicking my tongue against his lip and smiling as he moans. “I REALLY like pervert Negan.”

“Fuck if I don’t LOVE pervert Negan, sweetheart,” he laughed, leaning forward to lay me down on the bed again. “I promise he’ll come out to play with you as soon as you get the all clear.”

I pouted, letting him tuck me in, but feeling quite peeved that I couldn’t have more. More of him. NOW. “Can regular Negan at least hold me while I have forced celibate naptime?” I sighed. He chuckled and slid into the bed beside me. “I guess this’ll do.”

“Course it will,” he murmured into my hair. “Just make a list of all the fun things you and pervert me can get into instead of counting sheep-”

Like that was going to help my sorry ass go to sleep...

[imaginedickwolf]

*requested by @fictionalfangirls

“Well?” Munch asked as the technician moved the wand around your growing bump.

“It’s a boy.” She confirmed. She pulled the computer screen into your view. Those are his hands and his feet are up here.” She pointed at various points on the screen that honestly mostly just looked like blobs to you.

You walked out of the appointment, the sonogram gripped tightly between your fingers. Munch helped you into your seat before getting behind the wheel.

“It’s a boy.” He breathed.

“It’s a boy.” You replied, smiling at him.

“It’s a boy.” He turned and you could see the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. “I’m going to be a dad.”

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad.” You rubbed his arm. “After you take me to the store and get me those everything bagels.”

John snorted he laughed so hard. 

“Yes dear. I hope this is just a phase; I don’t think I can eat onions for every meal forever.”

Days passed slowly but somehow the time flew. You were counting down on a calendar in the kitchen and the baby’s room was getting completed at a glacial pace. You hadn’t wanted a baby shower but Liv convinced you it was probably the fastest way to get the room finished. And as always she was correct.

You invited the whole squad as well as Cabot. Liv helped a lot and you admittedly just stole food while she cooked. John scolded you when you tried to mop the floors and told Liv not to let you work hard. He was a bit overprotective but you really did hate housework so you couldn’t complain too much. Everyone brought such wonderful and thoughtful gifts you cried, though that was not really unusual as time had gone on. After all the gifts and Elliot brought you a box of tissues, you took them to the baby’s room. Fin and Elliot started building the crib that Elliot had given you. Huang and Cragen started hanging pictures. Munch and Cabot broke out the changing table you had bought earlier. They finished the room before the sun went down. You cried again.

At your 30th week, you got Braxton Hicks contractions for the first time. Munch panicked more than you did, despite both of you taking a pregnancy class. With your permission, Munch touched the baby a lot. He liked to feel him kick inside of you. You both played music for the baby though you debated which he preferred; you supported classical while John advocated for Vietnam era music. John read The Chronicles of Narnia to him at your request.

At week 37, you were getting antsy. You were still two weeks from the due date but you were starting to get tired of feeling like a bloated watermelon. John doted on you while he was around but that was not as often as you wished. You understood his work of course, but some things were just no longer possible for you to do. 

You got lunch with Cabot on Wednesday, needing to get out of the house and get some fresh air. You had woken at 5am, earlier than John for once when you felt a contraction. Since you were still two weeks away, you brushed them off and continued about your morning, occasionally pausing to groan in pain .You were eating at a quaint cafe near the courthouse when you felt the strongest one yet.

“[Y/N] are you okay?” Cabot asked.

“Yeah. Just those stupid false contractions. They woke me up at 5 this morning.”

“Are you sure they’re not real? That seems like a long time.”

“He’s still got two weeks. I’m not ready and John’s on a case. This little dude is going to have to hold out for at least two more days.”

“I don’t think he’s going to listen to you.” Alex replied, smiling but still looking concerned.

“I’m his mother, he will do as I say.” You glared playfully at your very round belly.

Your food came out and you forced yourself to eat, though you found yourself not very hungry. You nibbled while Alex ate and chatted through, trying to grit through the stronger contractions.

“How about a walk?” Alex suggested as she finished her meal.

“I would love to.” You replied, rising slowly from your seat and using the table as a balance.

“Not too long of course. I’ve got a case and you shouldn’t be on your feet too much.”

You nodded as the two of you left your table and began walking down the sidewalk back in the direction of the courthouse. As you passed the front of the building you felt water rush down your legs.

“Oh no.” You groaned. Alex looked at you and then looked down.

“Oh my god!” she gasped. “You are definitely in labor. Sit down, now!” She ordered. You lowered yourself to the steps of the building. “I’m calling Munch and driving you to the hospital.”

Sooner than you could believe, you were in the hospital, lying on a bed hooked up to a frankly frightening number of machines. The pain was getting worse and the contractions were coming faster. Time blurred as doctors and nurses came in and out. Alex stayed with you until Munch got there at which point, she headed to the waiting room. With intense pain came even worse memory. You had no idea how long you were there waiting for the doctor to say push. John was there for you the whole time. Encouraging you, supporting you, letting you almost break his fingers as you squeezed his hand during a contraction. He never complained, never stressed you, just supported you. He talked to you a lot though there is no way you could know for sure what he said. But there were a lot of “I love you”s. Of that, you were certain.

Finally the doctor said those magic words: “It’s time to push.” The next thing you knew, you had a small human laying on your chest. You and John discussed the name. You had thought you had time to decided but now was the moment. John cooed over the baby. He could barely believe that he was now a dad. He was too happy to be scared. This little life in his hands was his child. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

John was nervous to hold him, but you insisted. He talked to the child a lot but you were so tired, you couldn’t make out most of it. You did hear him tell the child that his hands and feet were remarkably small, which made you laugh. After a bit, he handed the baby back to you.

You agreed it was time and John brought the team in to meet your newest family member. They filed into the room, one by one. Liv, Stabler, Cragen, Fin, Huang, and Cabot. Your whole family.

“Hi everyone.” You greeted, holding your son close to your chest. 

“He’s beautiful.” Cragen told you. You smiled and pulled the blanket away from his face so they could see better.

“What’s his name?” Olivia asked.

You glanced at John and smiled. There had been some indecision and some hard choices, but you had settled on one.

“This is Oliver Andrew Munch.”

“Oliver came from Olivia, in case you were wondering Liv.” Munch added.

Olivia’s hands flew to her mouth. Elliot put a hand on her shoulder and Huang nodded in approval.

“Welcome to the family little man.” Fin said, leaning forward to smile at your bundle of blankets.

“You all can hold him if you like.” You offered. Liv approached and leaned down to take him into her arms. She lifted up his hand and Oliver curled his tiny fingers around one of hers.

This baby was going to the the most loved and protected baby in all of New York, you were certain. With a people like this, he would never be lacking in family.

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar’s Pillage 1

A cigarette leaks smoke from the corner of my frown as I work, hacking the neglected path clear again with my machete. My garden bed should be back here. I grow all kinds of things.

There's magenta irilis which gives my "snacks" and snacks their unique, fresh, lovely flavor. It also adds a nice touch of color, I think. Then there's the weight pullers: tall, weedy drogul plants, harsh smelling buds of grengis, and the innocent looking but deceptively potent white composite flowers, yequin.

Don't wanna remember all that? Don't worry; all you need to know is that they're drugs and drug enhancers, and people want what I harvest out here. It's a mixed bag, this business. It gets me into all sorts of mess with people, but I wouldn't do it, you know, unless it payed the bills.

And it does that, really well in fact. I huff I sigh into the humid air, grateful that at least it's relatively cool, and I'm finally through. I look over the state of my garden, and observe, unsurprised, that the rest of the evening must be spent weeding.

The middle class in my town is probably what's called riffraff elsewhere, and whether we're farmers, craftsmen, or prostitutes, we spend much of our time bent over.

I stretch occasionally when my back aches. I wonder if it's normal for a guy my age to have back and shoulder pain at rest, though. I grit my teeth and shrug it off when it happens, because it's not like it's a surprise, for how long I've been working the land.

Despite all the violence, dishonesty and threats I have to contend with in my line of work, I love this time after I've finished doing something. I feel small yet accomplished as I look up at the starry night sky, unpolluted and uncontested by city lights. On the ground, darkness, dirt, leaves and chirping surround me. I'm alone in the most perfect sense, but then I have to go back home into the residential district of town.

I trudge out of the woods, tired and hungry by now, and looking forward to getting home. I hop on my scooter. I'd call it something like "Trusty Rusty", but even though it's old, I take care of my things, so it's not rusty at all. I buzz down town, taking the back roads so I don't really run into anyone. My house is modest, but comfortable. Some dust can't be helped out here, but I've put my foot down against mildew, stains, and muck.

I strip out of my rough, dirt-crusted pants and torn shirt, enjoy a hot shower, and put on some fresh clothes. As I'm enjoying my warm meal, a knock sounds on my door.

I open up in my boxers and shabby grey t-shirt, with my usual lazy-eyed, irreverent expression.

"What do you want?", I ask the guy standing there.

We're friends, I guess, but only because I lack a better word. Reyfon scratches his messy brown hair and laughs lightly.

"I came to talk to you about that thing."

His thick glasses and somewhat shy demeanor would kind of suggest and innocent young man, but many of his actions paint a corrupted picture.

Truth is, I totally forgot about whatever event we have planned, but I just say, "Okay", like I was planning on him showing up at my doorstep in the middle of my beans and rice.

He steps in on his nervously light feet. I watch as he does a brief, sweeping glance over my home. I never say anything, but man, do I hate it when people evaluate and scrutinize me or my stuff like that. Reyfon smiles. "Looks like you're still your usual neat self."

"It hasn't been that long", I reply.

"Yeah, I guess so", he says. "Maybe a couple of weeks?"

"I bet you've had your hands even fuller than mine", I say.

"Yeah. It feels pretty hectic adjusting to the influx of tourists, no matter how many summers I spend at the brewery."

Reyfon comes from a family of artisans- brewers. While I haven't particularly missed him, I have missed the free beer. I look down and sure enough, I see one of the reasons why I always graciously pardon his intrusions into my home. "Oh", he says, lifting up the paper bag once he notices my eyes have locked on it. "Here."

I immediately take it, put it on the table, and unpack the assortment of pricey drinks, darks, lights, ales, ambers, et cetera. Needless to say, I'm very pleased. "Thanks", I say, then pause. "I suppose you want me to thank you some other way as well."

Reyfon smirks and nods. I'll have to help him again. "You know my father's health has been declining", he begins.

"Yeah."

"More and more of the responsibilities for the business have come down to me, my older brother, and kid sister." Then he scoffs, "Well, mostly me and Veralia. Yet, according to the tradition of favoring the eldest, the one to inherit the brewery will be Theorion. You know my brother, arrogant and lazy, and worse, incompetent and irresponsible. It wouldn't 100% be up to him even if he were the owner, but with enough poor decisions and investments, he could end up making a mess of generations of our family's hard work. So please, help rid us of this pest."

I grow tense, and hold up my hand. "Hold on. This sounds pretty serious. Knocking off some poor scrubs from the west side of hick town is simple, something nobody cares too much about. But now you're asking me to help kill the heir of a wealthy business. Everyone knows you guys around here, and whatever happens to him, it will thoroughly investigated."

"I know it's too much to ask as a friend, so on my word, you will be compensated generously", Reyfon says.

So far, I'm not too keen on this, but that word, "generously" hangs in the air tantalizingly.

"Do you even have a plan yet?", I ask.

"I was hoping you could take care of everything on that front. Of course, though, I'll provide whatever inside info you might need."

"I'm taking a huge risk here, hitting such a prominent target, but how much would you be willing to give me for this?"

"How does 10,000 buckaroos sound?"

"Nice try. This could break my life, so I need enough money to make it if this goes well. 20,000 buckaroos."

Reyfon cringes a little, but says, "Okay. I'll pay you after it's done."

I frown. "You think you're the one of us who trusts the other less? Who's at the other's mercy? You'll pay me before, or there's no way I'm doing shit."

"Hey, it doesn't have to be like that", he says. "How about a compromise? I pay 10,000 upfront, and the other half after it's done."

"15,000 up front."

"Fine. So you'll do it, then?"

I pause for a moment. "Yeah."

"Great", Reyfon says with a small smile, sighing in relief, as if assassinating his brother were an innocent request like any other. "I should be going then. Enjoy the brews. This could earn you a lifetime supply, Beriphitar."

With that, he left, leaving me standing, trying to keep myself from slowly being overwhelmed by what the fuck I'd just agreed to do. Nothing was set it writing. I could still back out, but I feel that that would be unacceptable for me. But then I get another idea. If I'm going to do something like this, if I'm going to take this kind of risk, might as well go all out. It seems like Reyfon can pay me, easily, whenever this gets done. That makes me suspect that the Greyhorns have a lot of cash sitting around.

The next day, Reyfon meets me at my house again. He answers all my questions not only without hesitation, but with enthusiasm. As far as he is concerned, we're in the process of turning his scheme into reality. At the end, I know the schedules of the inhabitants of the house, their maids, and Reyfon even gives me a detailed map of the layout of the house when I ask where his brother's bedroom is.

For better or worse, Reyfon decides that he should be out during the assassination. Actually, it's for the better.

The next night, I lie on my stomach in the dark, rich carpet soft against my chin. Reyfon graciously left the back door unlocked after he left this evening. I came in, went up two flights of stairs to Theorion's room, or chambers if you will, because it's like a whole pad in here- a big personal bathroom, dining and sitting area, and bedroom. I've been camped under his bed for like two hours, waiting for him to come back, hopefully alone.

I snap into tenseness when I hear whoozy female giggling and a good mooded, but douchey male voice approaching. Figures a fuckboy would be bringing a girl back with him. No matter. I prepared for the possibility of having to dispatch multiple targets quickly and silently, but maybe I should've hidden in the closet. Getting out is going to be awkward.

The door opens. "I wanna see that awesome shower you were telling me about!" The girl says. Theorion replies, "Yeah, well how about I give you a tour?" Their flirty tone and words are obviously telling of plans for a shower fuck, a way to bang that's highly overrated in the movies, but pretty good for me now.

Once they've rather stupidly sexy walked into the bathroom while swaying and groping, I start slipping out from under the bed. The bathroom is further down the wall, to my left. They left the door open, but cannot see me as I siddle along the wall towards it. Before they get in, or even have a chance to scream, I've swung out into the doorway, and fired a shot from my silenced pistol.

The pop goes off, and a bullet zips through the air, hitting its marks with beautiful precision. You see, I caught the love birds in a smooch, the guy's back to me. The bullet punches through the back of his head, and then tears through the front of hers. The blood and matter of two brains splatter, making a rather jarring contrast against the clean white and beige rugs, marble floor, and counter. I doubt very much that those were the kind of fluids they were planning on exchanging tonight.

I look up from their toppled bodies, and damn, that shower is pretty awesome. It's massive for one, and.. ah fuck it; this is not what I'm here for. I walk over to them. They'd make a pretty cute couple, just, not exactly like this. I shuffle through the guy's pockets and pull out his wallet. Very nice. The girl doesn't have anything worthwhile in her skirt pockets, but she's got something in the skirt.

According to Reyfon's info, I should have plenty of time. His sister's out having drinks with friends. His dad is emaciating in the hospital, and his mom is dead. So, I decide to help myself to what Theorion was about to have anyway. I brush the girl's wavy brown hair out of her face. It's sticky with the blood that's pouring out of the hole in her head and dripping down her face. Her hazel eyes are closed, her face didn't have time to contort into horror or surprise, so it's stranglely peaceful despite her undue and random end. She was pretty, well is, for all intents and purposes at the moment.

Ugh, it's like stripping a hundred pound sack of meat. Actually, it's exactly that. The human body is really a pain to move when it's dead weight. Getting my own clothes off only takes like 10 seconds. I stand buck naked in the bathroom with two dead bodies. I was mocking it earlier, but I drag the girl into the walk in shower anyway. I turn it on and warm water sprays from a marble seal's mouth. I flop the chick over the marble shower seat, kneel, and start pumping her from behind. It's only been minutes since she died, so her vag is still very warm.

Once I finish enjoying myself, I turn the shower off, dry myself with a towel, and get dressed again. I check my watch. It's only been 15 minutes since I killed Reyfon's older brother and his squeeze. My head is wonky. I can't remember whether I was supposed to leave the bodies or dispose of them.

I rush back over to the bed, and pull out the three bags that I brought with me. I pillage the house, rummaging through drawers, closets, and cabinets favoring speed only slightly more than precision. My last stop ends up being Reyfon's chambers. My 3rd bag is still empty.

After swiping a couple of snazzy watches and 200 buckaroos from around his room, I check under his bed. Sure enough, there are a couple of chests. They're locked, but I prepared for this. After being pried open with my crowbar, the chests reveal their treasure.

In one of them are various trinkets, an old scarf, a few journals, letters, papers- it seems to be a bunch of sentimentals mixed with important documents. The other contains cash, likely a lot of the money Reyfon was planning on paying to me. Upon looking through the bills appreciatively, something beneath the neatly bundled stacks catches my eye- five gold bars curtained beneath. Oh, I love this boy.

I pack the remaining bag, and just for the heck of it, I throw one of Reyfon's personal journals in. I never considered myself the gossipy sort, but who doesn't find it at least a little entertaining to stumble across the juicy secrets of someone they know? I sling my booty over my shoulders, make sure my mask is in place, and head on out of the house. Trusty Rusty is parked a block away.

I mount the scooter and buzz away into the temperate night. First thing I'll do later is buy a new bike, and a car too. This thing has been reliable, and I know how to fix it up, but I could have to make some serious distance, and I can already feel it slowing beneath me under the weight of my goods.

Reyfon plans to head back into his house, find the horrific scene and call the police. He plans to give an account, enjoy the sympathies, gifts and attention he will get as the victim of such a horrific tragedy, and prosper from here on out as the head of the brewery.

I park my bike at the dirt strip around the back of my little house called the backyard. I dip inside to drop off the bags, clean up, and change clothes. Taking my crowbar with me. Reyfon is hanging around a bar in town. I'm supposed to make an appearance there, so he knows that it has been done, but we're not to interact.

When I enter, he notices me immediately. He's probably been watching the door, scanning every patron that comes in. He turns back to his beer as soon as he sees who it is. Reyfon's eyes are clear; he's likely just been nursing that one drink this whole time. If he was gonna come to the bar as an alibi, then he should've at least made an effort to appear more casual about it, and maybe have brought a friend, and had a good time.

Thankfully, this bar also serves food. So while Reyfon is paying, I order a cheese sandwich and have them put it in paper lunch bag for me. I can leave shortly after he does, without looking too weird for not staying and drinking. I tail behind him as he walks down the street. I can tell he's nervous by the way his glasses constantly seem to need readjusting, and the paranoid glances back that I have to keep dodging.

He veers off eventually, into the shortcut through a patch woods that leads to the backyard of his family's mansion. It's here that I pounce. I remove the crowbar from my toolbelt rush forward. I hear him gasp at the sudden sound of feet rushing towards him. The crowbar hits just as his head finishes swiveling around, and his eyes see his attacker. After the big, dull thud he crumples to the ground, twitching a bit, but barely conscious.

As I bash his skull in, a few thoughts will pass through his brain before it mashes, asking why I've betrayed him. The answer? We are living in a material world, and I am a material boy. Hey, you wanna hear another quote? "People work together when it suits 'em. They're loyal when it suits 'em, love each other when it suits 'em, and they kill each other when it suits 'em." I get it, he didn't. And that's why he couldn't hold onto his life.

Reyfon's blood splatters onto my tattered beige work pants. After I finish and catch my breath, I observe. The face of the only person I ever really hung out with has been crushed into a bloody pulp of flesh that looks like fresh ground beef and bone chips. Frgaments of glass and pieces of the black frame from the young man's familiar glasses are mushed into the mess.

Something must be wrong with me to have such a compulsion, but my dick was out, hard, and being rubbed by my hand before I processed what was happening. My hand.. it's slippery with his blood, and it feels so good like this. I pleasure myself, looking down blankly at the battered corpse, lying on its stomach. I probably wouldn't even be able to tell that it was him if I found him like this.

My white, hot cum bursts forth onto the ground between his legs. I sigh and put my penis away, slightly dizzy from all the exertion of today. Brown leather peeks out from the back pocket of his blue jeans. Like an idiot, he kept his wallet there. I slip it out, take his cash, then throw the wallet onto his body.

I walk back home, mostly through the woods so as to be seen as little as possible. I pack one small bag with a few clothes and hygienics. Four bags carried by one guy on a scooter is pushing it, but I want to leave town right now. Then I realize while packing how suspicious all of this looks. Three members of a rich family in a small town are gruesomely murdered, and the house is robbed.

And me, I suddenly skip town, abandoning my drug business, my house, and my land. Where did I get the money to up and leave all of the sudden, and why would I do that on the night of the murders? I should stay, hide the stolen stuff, and wait out the investigation for a couple weeks to a month. Before leaving, I should tell a few people,

"This town is just getting worse by the year. We've had scuffles in the trailerpark and occasional killings among druggies, but for something like this to happen to the Greyhorns... Even I worry. And Reyfon and I, you know, we went back a few years."

Yeah, something like that should be good. It doesn't come across as too on the nose, and it foreshadows my leaving. Others will leave too after this, I'm sure, because the kind of violence that occurred tonight isn't often heard of here. It'll shake folks, myself included, heh.

So if some gumshoe finds their way around to asking about me, like, "That dealer Beriphitar was a friend of the youngest son's wasn't he? He left soon after, didn't he?" the downtown scrubs will answer, "Looks like even he got worried. He was racking up a little that might'a been worth stealin' himself ya know. Not so tough, just a boy trying to carve out a living in a town that turned out to be rougher than he was ready for."

With that, I put my clothes back. I put the bags of stolen money and valuables into plastic trash bags, then take then out to my garden- on foot mind you, because the noise of the scooter at this hour would an overly obvious deviation from my usual routine.

There would be nothing strange about overturned soil in a garden, especially not with fresh crops on top. When I'm done, the bags are safely hidden under about a foot of dirt. Just so you know, the lawmen won't want to tear this place up anyway because of the drugs. What I'm doing is perfectly legal here.

By the time I get back home, it's the middle of the night. That girl seems even hotter now that I'm remembering her in my tiny shower. My tired brain spins a fantasy of her, Reyfon, and Theorion. Reyfon is sandwiched in the middle, Theorion plowing his dirty asshole from behind while he penetrates the girl's dripping pussy. The three move harder and faster, until the illusion comes to its climax, and my jizz sprays the shower wall.

"Sandwiched" though, that word reminds me that I have a perfect good cheese sandwich just left on the counter. I eat it on the way to bed, and then sleep sweetly. With the day that I had, I'm not sure if I'd be able to tell dream from memory.

I wake up to birds chirping, a sour mouth, and the pleasant brightness that comes from having one's home so close to nature. Then I smile little, when I think of the chaos that must be unfolding uptown. Lawmen like buzzards circling my crime scene, Veralia, distraught, shocked, and hungover, and Reyfon's father- I wonder if the news has made it to his hospital bed? At this point, they might as well spare the old man and let him die in peace if possible.

I climb out of bed, have one of the craft beers that Reyfon gave me for breakfast, and then brush my teeth. Over the next two weeks, I follow my plans. I attend the Greyhorn funerals, tell a few people that I'm thinking about leaving town, and sell my land and house.

The lawmen took me aside once to ask me questions. "Did you see anyone strange around town?" et cetera. My answer was simply, "No Sir."

On the day that I was packing my bags again to get on Trusty Rusty and leave town, a beautiful gift delivered herself right to my door. It was Veralia, Reyfon's suffering brunette sister who'd been becoming increasingly irresistable to me the more I saw of her.

Her entire immediate family was either dead, murdered, or dying. It had become unthinkable for her to even stay in her own house; the emptiness and the memories of what had happened, of what she'd seen there, were too much. I heard she currently lived with an aunt in the next town over, so imagine my surprise to see her at my hovel.

Her eyes were sunken, though puffy from what could have been her hundreth bout of tears, and filled with pain. She looked lost, like so many others who'd come to me, and I so then I knew why she was here. She had to find something good in her overwhelming plight.

"I know", she began quietly and not meeting my eyes, "That my brother used to buy leaves and stuff from you." She dug into her pockets and pulled out some crumpled bills. Veralia stretched the money out to me. "Yes", I said softly and with an air of consideration. "I was closing down shop, but please, come in and you can select what you want from what I still have."

There's hardly any stock remaining, since I lowered prices and had been doing a lot of peddling to get it off my hands,but I'm glad I left some. Turns out, Veralia doesn't know a cow from a cat when it comes to drugs, so when I show her my stuff she just says, "I don't know. Just give me something to... stop it." Her face twitches like she's going to collapse into tears, but she holds back.

Her ignorance doesn't matter anyway, because I was partially lying about the effects and the types of drugs anyway. I dope her up as she asks. The drugs take her mind to another world, while I take her body. She moans and pushes me away weakly, but she barely knows what's going on, and she sure won't remember any of this. I strip off her clothes and pound her. I finger her, stick my dick in her slit and her mouth, and rub it against her thighs, pussy and then her asshole before fucking that too. I roughly grope her breasts, then use her vag to finish, shoving my dick in harder and harder, faster and faster, until she wimpers a little even in her drugged state.

Once I get off, she just lays on my living room carpet by the coffee table, almost completely out of it. I think I'll relax for a while before redressing her, but upon having another look at her perky pair of tits and tight pussy soaked with my semen, I decide I'll have a second helping.

I turn her over and splay her legs before me again, completely exposing her genitals to my salacious gaze. I rub her privates, and roughly violate her asshole with two and then three of my fingers. I push my penis inside her body again. She moans sleepily and her hands reach up to swat around above her as I continue raping her- sometimes anally, sometimes vaginally. Her vision is blurry, I know, so she can hardly see me. Veralia's confused, and I feel her thighs pressing up against my hands as she makes makes feeble attempts to close her legs. I come all over her genitalia and asshole.

I wipe her up and put her clothes back on. I finish packing as I was before she came, hop on my scooter, and leave town. Buzzing down the roads to the north, cool wind blowing at my hair and jacket, cargo over my shoulders- I must say I've never felt this free in my life. I've done just as I've pleased, and now I have thousands of buckaroos in cash, gold, and valuables, and a new life of ahead. Life has finally gone my way.

I'm living my own dream as my own man.

[eternityunicorn]

Elijah’s Eternity: Part One

Author: eternityunicorn

Word Count: 1,396

Genre: Romance/Fantasy/AU

Warnings: Violence, Language, Possible Smut

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Summary: Elijah Mikaelson didn’t know what to expect when he encountered the strange archer in the night, but he certainly didn’t think his whole world would be turned upside down by it. Yet, he quickly learns that she is more than what she seems, having come looking for an Original after a large spike in supernatural being populations started cropping up on Earth a thousand years ago. Now, he must help her decide if the supernatural community should stay on their home planet or leave it for good? A task that is made more complicated along the way, as his life is changed forever.

NOTE: This is my first fanfic. OC is the main character from my upcoming book. There will also be elements from my book too. So, it's a fanfic with original elements.

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In the darkness of night, she moved with predatory stealth. She was on the trail of her target and closing in. This predator weaved in and out of the shadows, running along rooftops, leapt from one to the other with inhuman speed, until she had them in her sights. They were feeding in the shadows. She could smell the blood and just moments before had heard the piercing screams of their victims.

Damn....

She hadn’t made it in time to save the victims. Just one second too late. The poor bastards....

Still, there wasn’t time to mourn, pray, or berate oneself for failing the innocent. There was a job to do - justice to be had.

With her famous yumi bow and quiver of arrows, she struck the perpetrators hard from the vantage point the roof top provided swiftly. There were two of them and neither saw her coming. They were purified before they could even unlatch their fangs from their victims’ necks. There wasn’t anything left of them, due to her purification arrows.

Jumping from the tall building, the archer landed effortlessly at the attack sight, next to the poor dead humans that had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. She assessed the dead briefly, saying a silent prayer for them, before she turned from the scene to leave. There was no point in reviving the human victims, though she could have easily if she had so chose to. Their lives would be tormented with the memories of the night, of being killed, and that was no live to live; paranoid, fearful.

Most humans couldn’t handle experiencing the supernatural world. It drove them to madness, especially when said experience was negative - like when they become some vampire’s dinner.

No, it was for the best to leave them as they were. It was better.

Speaking of vampires, the human world had been purged of anything supernatural long ago. Ten thousand years ago, to be exact. The otherworldly had been separated from the ordinary. So, it was strange to find vampires feasting upon human victims. Now, vampires were well known, but the ones that the archer knew were different. They didn’t put off an aura of dark magic, as though they were created and not born. The ones she knew of were born bloodsuckers. They weren’t creations. Yet, for the past thousand years or so, she had encountered an ever increasing number of vampires, all with that strange energy signature.

These creations were not supposed to exist, not in the world of men or the world of any mortal people. Yet, they were out there living amongst their human counterparts. It was troubling, but she knew that she couldn’t commit genocide upon an entire people, especially when their existence wasn’t necessarily their fault. But even if it had, such a thing wasn’t an option.

Furthermore, ever since the creation of this new kind of vampires, there had been a return of magic to the human world. Witches and werewolves had begun to return to the world of man, creating yet another issue, as factions were born with infighting and outright wars between the groups that often left a trail of bodies, mostly of innocent bystanders. This was why magic and the otherworldly had been removed from the Earth, because not all creatures of myth and legend knew how to live in peace. They needed their own spaces; territories that were their own to rule, separate from each other and more importantly, away from the mortals.

So, how had this happened? Well, the archer knew. She had discovered the truth long ago, but couldn’t do anything about it since she had other obligations, other peoples that needed her attention more. She had to wait, but the fighting and the bloodshed had only grown worse, driving her to begin searching for the source of this new era of magic and myth: the Mikaelsons. What she would do once she found them was uncertain. She wanted to assess them before making any decision.

The archer had tracked one of them to a small American town in the state of Maine. That was where she was now, trying to find one of the vampire siblings she had heard so much about over the last thousand years every time she returned to the human realm. The place was so tiny and unassuming, just some hick town that it made her wonder how any vampire could hide there without someone noticing.

Unless, they were being compelled to overlook the presence of vampires.

A dirty trick, but an effective one, to say the least.

Suddenly, there was the appearance of another person directly behind her. She could tell that it was another vampire by the signature. She didn’t move. Thousands of years of fighting in battles and wars had molded her to know exact when to attack when snuck up upon. So, she remained perfectly still, knowing that she could outmaneuver whomever has dared to come.

“You’re the one that’s been looking for my siblings and I,” called a smooth voice, slightly accented baritone.

So, one of them had come out into the open. At last.

“Aye,” she replied, still unmoving, not even to turn and look at the Mikaelson.

“I’ve heard about you,” he told her. “I’ve seen the aftermath of an encounter with you. Your arrows have a strange magic, none of my witches can say what it is or where it comes from. All they say is that it’s of the gods.” He gave a slight scoff at that last bit, “So, my question is who are you?”

She grinned, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it, “Well, I’ll tell you now that I’m not a god. I’ve never liked such a title. Though, so many wish it upon me.”

“Then who are you?”

“Mr. Mikaelson,” she finally turned toward him, “I am Eternity. That’s all you need to know, because that’s all that is important.”

She could see the state of awe on the well-dressed vampire’s face. His chocolate brown eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly at the sight of her. It was a reaction she had seen countless times before in a variety of people. It wasn’t anything new, but as always, it was a rather amusing sight.

“What are you?” He asked softly, breathlessly.

She smirked mysteriously, “It matters not what I am.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want from me?” There was suspicion in his voice, but no fear.

“Nothing. Yet,” she said easily, in a friendly way. “Just your company?”

Instead of being surprised by her answer, he seemed to collect himself then, regaining that level-headed suaveness she had heard one of the Mikaelsons possessed: Elijah Mikaelson, if memory served her correctly. He saw that she wasn’t a threat to him, for the moment, and had instantly shifted his demeanor back to his famous cool-headedness.

Eternity recalled the information she had collected on him. He was the oldest living male sibling since Finn Mikaelson was put to sleep nine hundred years ago. There was a sister that none of them knew about, but that was neither here or there. He was cool and calm under pressure, but could be quite violent if provoked, especially where his siblings were concerned.

Not that his violence was a concern. She was well equipped to handle such things.

Elijah gazed at her curiously, as if assessing her and her motives. He was asking himself if he should trust her. She could see the question in those rather pretty eyes of his. But, trust didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking to be a trusted friend. She was only seeking to gain all the facts about the Mikaelsons, and the rest of the supernatural community, so that she could decide what to do about the new breed of supernatural on Earth. Nothing more and nothing less. Even so, he had no reason not to trust her or she him in that moment, because they weren’t looking to be enemies, not yet anyway.

Finally, after a quick moment of quiet consideration, he conceded to her request. “Well unfortunately, there isn’t much in the way of fine dinning around here, but I do know a little diner near by. We can go there to talk, if you’d like.”

“Lead the way, Mr. Mikaelson.”

“Elijah.”

“Elijah....”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

COTW - 28 - update

Rei's surgery had taken place early on the morning of the 5th. Swept up in reconfirming their love for each other, by the time Levi had woken to find it lunch time, their pup was already in theatre... and Eren was a stressing mess. His omega feeling sick with guilt over not being there to say "goodbye" before the procedure in case something happened. After leaving the court house, they'd had a few intimate hours together before their apartment was gatecrashed by their friends. Krista scolded Eren for his behaviour, before giggling how she was so proud of him. Apparently despite the fact Eren had been escorted out the courtroom, Floch had still planned to call him back. A plan that had been ruined by the fact that "they'd snuck off to fuck", in Erwin's words. Mikasa and Armin hadn't joined the others, but Eren didn't mention it, so, neither did Levi. He hadn't been impressed to see them at the courthouse, but the pair had insisted that they were there to show Eren their support. He'd half expected Connie and Sasha to show up sprouting the same nonsense, but thankfully they hadn't. They had an hour long wait before there was any news on Rei. The tiny premie back in the NICU, and while they couldn't touch him, Eren sobbed in relief that their son had come through the surgery. His back no longer carrying its "tail", though there were definitely more wires and cords around the small pup than there were before. He'd need another surgery once he got older, and possible more in the future, but for now. He was ok, and that was the main thing. It was another two weeks before things settled down in the apartment. Trying to tell Eren to rest did nothing, the omega throwing himself into arranging and decorating the nursery, until it was finally up to Eren's standards. Both new cots were assembled, Rei's cot made up with soft green blankets, while his brother's was made up with soft blue blankets. They'd reused the furniture they'd bought for Viren, as Viren now had the wardrobe in Eren's old room. They'd had a small incident with their son pulling down one of Eren's old set of bedside drawers on himself. Viren giving himself a split lip and bloodied nose for his troubles, but now it was safely anchored to the wall, and the toddler was going out of his way to avoid Titan, who he'd been trying to reach in the first place. As for their room, Eren had remade their nest at least a dozen times... mostly because they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other. Eren spending more time in his lap, than on his own side of the bed... though Levi wasn't complaining. Especially not when Eren let him record him. His husband had been a little shy to begin with, but when Levi took over and topped, his omega was more than happy to film him as he fucked himself senseless. Each day Eren's stomach seemed to swell further as his breasts grew larger. Levi was completely addicted to it, and if they were having sex that meant Eren was spending less time sleeping, and less time suffering nightmares. Listening to the toilet flush, Levi sighed to himself. Eren had been up and down all night. His omega stripping down to his underwear because he was hot and uncomfortable. Though with how many times he'd been up down, Levi wondered why his husband didn't just stay in the bathroom. When the shower turned on, the alpha dragged himself out of bed. Heading into the bathroom, Eren was standing in the shower. His forehead against the wall, as he rubbed his hanging stomach, letting out small hisses as he did. Even under the running water, Levi could smell something off in his sweetness "Eren?" "Contractions" "Contractions?" Levi's voice shot up an octave... "I think they're just hicks... but they're pretty uncomfortable" Swallowing down the thick lump in his throat, Levi shook his head "You smell sweater... are you sure they're not..." "Don't even say it" "Eren" "I'm not due yet" "Bright Eyes, your body is going to decide when it's time. You can't will it not to be" "Lee..." "I think we better head in" "No... its too soon" "Eren..." "It... hurts..." "Ok. That's it. Shower over" "No..." Reaching into the shower, Levi turned the taps off. Gathering Eren into his hold, his husband whimpered "How close?" "I don't know..." "When they did start?" "Off and on since this morning. That's why I thought they were fake... I know what labour feels like..." Clutching his stomach harder, Eren shuddered through a groan "Yeah. And how's that starting to feel for you?" "Like... maybe I'm in labour" Supporting Eren through to their room, he sat him down on the edge of their bed "I'm going to grab a towel and dry you down" Eren nodded, fear flooding his scent "Hey. Hey, it's ok" "It's too soon. Couldn't this... be a false alarm?" "It could be, but I'm not risking it" "Can't we fall asleep and try again later?" "If it's a false alarm, I'll let you sleep all you want" Getting Eren dried was going so well, until Levi got him to stand. Eren let out a miserable whine as fluid pattered onto the flood between his husband's feet, both of them frozen before Levi found his voice "Eren..." "I think... my water just..." "Ok. You're ok... we'll get you dressed, and I'll get Viren" "Need my bag too..." "Yep. I've got it" "Lee..." Looking at at him with wide, fear filled eyes, Eren's lip was trembling "It's all going to be ok. It's normal for twins to come a little early" "He's going to be ok... isn't he?" "Yeah. Yeah, he's going to be ok. You both are" Of all the days for their to have been an accident, it has to be the day Eren goes into labour. Calling ahead, the stuttering idiot that was Olou informed him that neither Mike or Hanji were available. A violent alpha had caused an issue in the Emergency Department, coupled with an accident, had left things strained. Told to monitor his omegas contractions, Eren's labour was moving too fast him for him to be comfortable with. Eren hissing and breathing, assuring him he was ok, but after an hour, he couldn't do it. He needed to take Eren in "Baby, we're going to head in now" Giving him a pained smile, Eren nodded as he reached for Levi. Pulling his husband off their bed, Eren staggered before righting himself, before letting out a grunt an sagging "Ok... ok... we've got this..." "Lee... I don't think... we're going to make it" "Eren?" "I feel him... Lee, I feel him" Eren's pained moans and mews were getting sweeter by the second. Trying Mike, Erwin and Hanji on a loop, none of them were answering. Trying to coach Eren to breathe, his omega was making some pretty alarming sounds, as he placed dug one heel into their bed while kicking out with the other "Eren. Keep breathing for me" "Lee... It hurts... he's coming..." "You're ok, baby..." Writhing in their nest, Eren whimpered and whined. He knew he shouldn't find it erotic, but fuck... the way his belly moved, the way Eren's long form twisted as he panted... "Ow... ow... fuck... Lee..." Reaching out and grabbing his hand, Eren damn near broke the thing as he threw his head back to scream "Don't push! Don't push..." "Tell that to my body... I can feel him... I can feel him..." "Eren. Baby. Focus for me. Focus. Real talk, baby. How do you feel?" "I need to push... I can feel him" Ok. He could do this... "Eren, I can't through to Mike, Erwin or Hanji. We can try heading to hospital, but I don't know what kind of condition the traffic is going to be. What do you want to do?" "I... I'll... here, you can do it right?" He didn't want to be in a position where he was responsible for the life of their pup... "Mike" Leaping up from the edge of the bed as his phone started to ring, Levi could have laughed with relief. Grabbing the device, he slid his thumb across "Levi?!" "Mike. Eren's in labour" Mike swore softly "How far along? "It's been over an hour since his water broke, and he was having contractions before hand. I was told not to bring him in, but now it's too late" "There was an alpha earlier, trashed half the place before the cops finally got him down. Where are you?" "Home. He's in his nest. I tried you, Hanji and Erwin..." "There was car crash downtown. Car flipped, took out a power line and it's taken half the inner city out. You know what that's like. It's been all hands on deck. Levi, I'll be there as soon as I can. Make sure he's comfortable" "Mike..." "You'll be fine. You can do this" "But... complications?" "He should be able to deliver the pup. There's nothing saying that he shouldn't. Watch his stitch site, and monitor his blood pressure..." "Mike. I can't do this..." "You can. I'll be there... now put me on the phone with him" "Eren. Mike wants to talk to you" Holding the phone out, Eren twisted on their bed, moving onto his knees and sticking his arse out "I'm kind of busy!" Raising the device back to his ear, Levi sighed "Hear that?" "Reassure him I'm on my way" Mike ended the call, Levi throwing his phone onto the bed as he moved to climb up behind Eren "Baby?" "Ok... we need... to see how dilated I am... Shit, Levi... I miss the drugs" "I know you do baby. I know. Let's get you more comfortable" They weren't equipped for anything to go wrong. Eren's arse was scarred. He might not even dilate far enough to give birth safely... or... Arching his back, Eren cried his name out "Levi... please don't let him die..." "Neither of you are going to die..." Ridding Eren of his sweats, his mate was far more dilated than he'd expected. Moaning and grinding against his hand, Eren legs shook as come leaked from his spent penis... blinking in shock, his omega whined again "Levi? Is it bad?" "No. No baby... you're..." "Gaping open" seemed less than polite "You're dilated... nearly there..." "I want to push" "Not yet. Not yet, baby. Mike will be here real soon" Drawing his legs together, Eren turned to his side "I'm sorry..." "Hey..." "The contractions were over the whole day... they didn't feel regular... I didn't feel like I was in labour... I don't want him to die" Climbing up behind Eren, he pulled his omega back against him, crooning softly "You're not going to die. I've got you. I've got you..." "It hurts... don't let them take him" "No one is taking him. No one" "Please... don't let them take him..." "No ones going to. You're safe, baby. You're..." Eren grabbed his hand, back arching through a contraction. Levi didn't know how to help best. It wasn't his first birth, but it was the most important of his life as it was his child he was delivering "It hurts..." "Do you want to try standing? Changing position?" Eren nodded, as his feet kicked at the blankets, hunched over almost as if he was running on the spot "I... want to stand" "Ok. We can do that. Here, come here" Eren wanted to walk, the squat, then walk and squat again. Unable to get comfortable, they ended up with his omega on his knees, grasping Levi's hands. Crying out in pain, Eren looked beautiful. Sweat rolling down his face as his every bit of strength he had went into bearing down. Struggling to breathe, Eren sobbed through the pain, before slumping again. Sucking in a few deep breaths, it started over again "Baby...?" "His head... Lee, I can feel it..." Guiding Eren's left hand up so his husband could wrap his arm around him, Levi slipped his hand between Eren's legs. Feeling his mate bulging as their son started to crown. Elation rushed through him. They were so close, but so far at the same time "Can you feel him?" "Yeah, baby. Yeah..." Nuzzling into his neck, Eren whimpered "I've got you. Here, use my scent. Focus on my scent... I've got you. I love you..." Eren nuzzled into his neck until his next contraction hit, screaming as he pushed. Levi's hand growing wetter, as their son slowly started to slide from his omega "So good, you're doing so good" "Levi... it hurts... it hurts..." "You're doing so good. So good, now, another big push for me" Eren whined through his contraction, falling against him with his complete weight "Can't... hold this position" "I've got you" Guiding him to lay on the floor, Levi positioned himself between Eren's legs. His mate tearing as he clawed at the floor. With a long growl, Eren pushed, their son's head sliding free as Eren collapsed back "You've got this, baby. You're doing so good" Running his hands down Eren's legs, he wished he'd grabbed a towel off the bed or something softer for Eren other than the wood of the floor. Wiping come from Eren's thighs, his omegas flaccid penis continued to weep, stimulated by the pressure against his prostate "Don't you even think about it" "I'm not thinking about anything. Only you" "I love you, Bright Eyes. I love you. Take a few deep breaths, let the feeling..." "Don't tell me what to feel. I've done this" "Sorry. Sorry... baby..." Struggling to birth their son's shoulders, watching Eren tear put a dampener on the moment. Tearing meant scarring and surgery... more pain for his husband. Supporting the baby boy's head, Levi nodded "Ok... ok... push! Push for me, Eren" "I am fucking pusss... hing! Ahhh..." Turning their pup, and hurting Eren further, the boy's shoulders painstakingly slowly slid free. Eren straining to push, over and and over until finally he let out a roar so loud he was surprised Viren didn't come running. Twitching and shaking, Eren sobbed hard as their son slid from his broken frame. Blood, birth, slick and come pooled on the floor, Eren whimpering as he drew up enough strength to finally push him free. Finally. Finally their boy was there... Staring down at him, Levi let out a laugh as he wiped at the pups face, his smile momentarily falling as their son took his sweet time over letting out his first small cry. "Lee... want to see. Want to see him" "He's perfect" Lifting him up to lay on Eren's heaving chest, his omega and his son were breathtakingly beautiful. He would have liked to have enjoyed the moment, but there were things that needed to be done... like tying the cord and delivering the after birth. The amount of blood that seemed to gush from his omega was alarming. He couldn't tell if Eren was having a bleed or not. Gathering the towels from their bed, he draped one over their son, Eren in a world of his own as he held him. It was now that Mike finally made an appearance... with a completely kitted Erwin "It looks like you didn't need us after all" "Eren's still bleeding" Mike pushed past his husband, moving to kneel by Eren "Levi, take your son. Erwin, help me get Eren onto the bed. Eren, how do you feel?" "Fucked. Can I have drugs now?" "I think you've more than deserved them" Taking their son into his hold, he watched Eren be gently lifted by Mike and Erwin. His husband crying out in pain as the sat him on the bed. With all the tearing and blood, Eren was going to be butt hurt for a while "Levi, let me examine him" He didn't want Mike touching Eren, just as much as he didn't want Erwin touching their newborn. But both needed to be checked. "Congratulations, you two. You have a healthy baby boy. I think this time Mike and I have earned some credit in the naming" Swaddled into a towel, their son was laid in Eren's arms. Eren looked completely wrecked, but so very happy. Levi pointedly ignoring looking between Eren's bloodied legs. His husband too out of it to care he was flashing Mike and Erwin "Levi gets to name this little boy..." "We'll take a middle name. We're not fussy" "Well Rei's middle name is "Lee". Just keep that in mind... I thought Hanji might like to use Moblit for her little one" Since when was "Lee", Rei's middle name? Not that he was complaining. Rei Lee Ackerman, had a nice ring to it "I'll head down and get the gurney" "Gurney?" "Erwin may have appropriated an ambulance" "And Mike may have been completely behind it" Eren gave a weak laugh, followed by a groan "Don't make me laugh... I want to sleep" "You need to stay awake for me a little longer. You're going to need stitches" "Hurts" Mike patted Eren's shoulder sympathetically "I can imagine. Where's Viren?" "In his room. Lee, can you check on him?" Viren was curled in up under his bed. Titan laying in front of him, as if protecting him. Pulling the toddler out from under his bed, he gathered his scared son up against him "D-daddy!" "I'm sorry, brat. Were you scared?" Viren sniffled as he clung to him "Mummy?" "Oh, baby. Mummy is just fine. Here, come here. Do you want to meet your little brother?" "I want mum" "Ok, baby. Here, let's see mummy" Viren was shaking hard against him, his son had wet himself in fear. Carrying him into their bedroom, Erwin was still gone to get the gurney "Hey there, bud. Ready to meet your bother?" Sleepily, Eren smiled up at Viren "Hey baby. This is your little brother" "Mummy!" "Mike, can you..." Mike lifted their newborn out of Eren's arms. Eren reaching for Viren as Viren reached for him "He was under the bed with Titan" "Oh, baby. Mummy is so sorry. I'm sorry, baby" Nuzzling and kissing Viren's hair, Viren wept against his mother "Mummy..." "Mummy's got you, baby. Mummy's got you. And guess what, you've got a new baby brother... and mummy is going to be just fine" Looking up to him, Eren's guilt was clear "I'll take him and get him cleaned up. We'll follow you in" "Make sure he's ok... I can't..." "He's going to be just fine. He's just in shock" "I'm so sorry, my baby boy. Mike, can you show him?" Eren was straining himself as he moved Viren to sit, Mike lowering their son down for Viren to see "He's ugly" Eren laughed softly "That's because he was just born. You looked just like him when you were born" "I'm cuter" "You're adorable. And you're going to be the best big brother ever" "He's too small to play" "But when he gets bigger, you're going to have all kinds of adventures" "I don't know..." God. His son was killing him. Levi wished he'd filmed the whole thing. It was so incredibly precious. "Levi, why don't you take him and get him cleaned up. We don't mind taking him in the ambulance, if he wants to" "I think he might. Alright, brat. We both could use a clean"

[themissinggenius]

In response to this au (brought to my attention by @downthedungeon; thank you), I wrote a little something:

Clarice was 17 years old, in her final year at the Bozeman Lutheran Home, when she had heard about the arrest of Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter. It was all she could do not to go to bed and thank the Lord - if He indeed existed - that she had not met that “Hannibal.” Surely, she reasoned, there were other Hannibal’s in the world. She ignored the fact that she on her way to be a criminal justice and psychology major. And that he was a criminal and a psychiatrist.

Jack Crawford’s office, almost eight years later, was very lightly decorated. There was leftover paint on the walls from furniture moved, and most of the office seemed to be in a state of just slight disrepair. Starling shifted in her seat as Crawford continued to spout off about qualifications and all that jack shit that would hold her up from getting into Behavioral Science once she graduated. “Do you spook easily, Starling?” “Not yet, sir.” “See, we’ve tried to interview and examine all of the serial murderers we have in custody. To build up a profile, of sorts. Most were willing to cooperate. But the one we want most, we haven’t been able to get. I want you to go after him tomorrow in the asylum.” Clarice Starling felt a glad knocking in her chest and some apprehension, too. Mostly apprehension. “Who’s the subject?” “The psychiatrist - “ Starling felt her stomach drop. “Hannibal Lecter,” he finished. The trainee was apparently unaware of her ghost-like appearance. Crawford observed her to have almost suddenly fainted, or she was simply mortified.”You alright, Clarice?” She took a moment, looked down at her hands in her lap, and then back up to her superior. “Just fine, Mr. Crawford. A little nervous, that’s all, sir.” Then, something she had just thought of. She had an opportunity and she seized it. No need to tell either of them. She could get this done, and it could work out well for her. “Also, um, sir. I would prefer that you use my middle name if you would like to address me so personally. Clarice is my aunt’s name, and it just confused things for me when I was little.” Bullshit. “Marie is fine, for the time being.” Crawford seeing Starling so nervous left him simply off the rest of the day, at least until he took two aspirin.

Marie Starling had made her introductions to Dr. Chilton. To herself, and only to herself, she contemplated who the slimy doctor’s soulmate truly was. A voice in the back told her that the only suitable name for Frederick’s soulmate would be Hishand. Starling had to keep herself from smiling before greeting the orderly. It was a stupid joke. It shouldn’t have been that funny.

“Dr. Lecter, my name is Marie Starling. May I speak with you?” The prisoner got up from his cot and slowly approached Clarice, before greeting her. She started to explain to him the situation they had at Quantico, but he cut her off with a raised hand. “You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, I expect.” “I am, yes.” “May I see your credentials?’ “Umm. Dr. Lecter, I’m still in training at the Academy and therefore I don’t yet have credentials.” Jack Crawford’s freshly-printed temporary ID card sat in her bag. Despite her request to be called Marie in his presence, “STARLING, CLARICE M.” was printed in bold on the card. So much for that. “I see.” He moved toward his small bed once again. “Excuse me, Doctor, but I do have this badge Mr. Crawford gave to me just in case you didn’t believe me.” Lecter cracked a wide smile at that. “I also have papers containing his sign-off for this meeting. Will that suffice, sir?” “I think so. Although I do wonder why Jack Crawford sent a trainee to me. But that’s besides the point. Now then, what did Miggs say to you?”

Hannibal Lecter could hear Starling’s inexpensive shoes long after they clicked their way down the dungeon hallway. Migg’s particularly foul stench permeated the air, so much that Dr. Lecter retreated to the far opposite side of his cell as to avoid smelling it. He thought of the girl. MA-RIE. He sounded it out. MAA-REE. Heavy on his lips. MARIE Starling. It had an interesting ring to it. Was there a chance that it was not just Marie Starling, and that she was actually the Clarice he had been looking for for the past fifty years of his life? Yes. Was it probable? Definitely not. However, with four life sentences weighing down on him, he wasn’t quite sure when he was going to meet another woman, mind with or without the name Clarice. In addition, he highly doubted there were any men named Clarice around, so that ruled out that option. Hannibal’s upper lip nearly completely enveloped that of his lower. He bit softly. Maybe he had missed his Clarice because of his incarceration. While the doctor would not claim to know the plan of the fates, if they in anyway resembled his relationship with God, he was quite sure he was, crudely put, fucked.

“Years of silence, and then Jack Crawford sends down his girl and you just went to jelly, didn’t you? What was it that got you, Hannibal? Was it those good, hard ankles? The way her hair shines? She’s glorious, isn’t she? Remote and glorious. A winter sunset of a girl, that’s the way I think of her. I know it’s been some time since you’ve seen a winter sunset, but take my word for it. “Do you still think you’re going someplace with a window? I don’t think so. I called Senator Ruth Martin and she never heard of any deal with you. She never heard of Marie Starling, either. Only some twenty something hick named Clarice with a knack for slutting herself around for cheap ambition. She got you, Hannibal. She got me, too, and she still has Jack Crawford. “You must really be slipping, old man. Not only did you refuse to pick up on her phony deal, you never even knew her real name. She did it to save her reputation, I suppose, in case something backfired. She could say Clarice Starling never failed to save Miss Martin, Marie Starling did.” Chilton attributed Hannibal’s sudden willingness to cooperate to Frederick’s own master manipulation. The cannibal was just excited to tell everyone Buffalo Bill’s name in exchange for a real sunset.

Freddie would never realize how right he really was.

Starling knew Chilton had fucked it up. Now in more ways than one. “Good evening, Clarice,” he said. She didn’t falter when he said it. “I thought you might like your drawings back, Doctor. Just until you get your view.” Keep him where you want him. “How very thoughtful. Or did Jack Crawford send you for one last wheedle before you’re both booted off the case?” “I came because I wanted to.” There was more truth to that than she would have liked to admit. “People will say we’re in love.” Hannibal felt true, unbridled pain shoot through his being when Clarice Starling flinched at his accusation.

[dwestfieldblog]

Q ONAN IN THE AEON OF HORUS

Insanity is contagious in the Aeon of Horus. Hope you all had a happy and healthy Sirius day on 23rd... I wasn’t going to write another screed until late September but I might well be trapped on the festering cesspool prison island of guinea pigs in three weeks time where the oven ready Boris variant runs wild, and will have very limited access, if any, to the matrix. And I needed to rant off as catharsis on current popular topics. Arf arf arf and fnord as well.

Climate report Doom...fires, floods, earthquakes, hurricanes on the rise, watch the Texans and Arabs and all those aligned with oil continue to deny global warming in the sweating face of the evidence.  The tyranny of the driller killers has been disabling those with clean solar power ideas and the mass use of limitless superconductive  energy for decades, while they work out how ‘to put a metre between us and the sun’. Blame greed. Perhaps they think Bezos will have enough rockets for them to plunder other worlds and leave the future desert of earth behind. Climate change deniers usually have the same mind set as those who are anti vaxxers, it seems to be a typical item on their lists of dislike. Right alongside all the other bollocks and twaddle they don’t believe in, despite the enduring and building testimonies of the majority of professionals.

‘To prevent yourselves doing and seeing and coming into contact with this, that and the other...lock yourselves up in a monastery where you’ll be safe. Immunity...it teaches us how not to be affected by the countless vicissitudes of life; not how to avoid them by running away...The philosopher adapts himself to the exigencies of life, not the exigencies of life to himself.’ The Initiate in the New World by his pupil. Book two of a fascinating trilogy. Hello Cecil Jones.

America...the gurning evil one (‘I love the poorly educated’)  doesn’t seem to be back in the White House quite yet, Q Onan and the boys can’t seem to get their insurrection up. Been there eh? White guys just take the blue tablet and avoid getting redpilled.  ‘We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men evolved differently, that they are born with certain mutable characteristics, and that among these are life and the pursuit of pleasure.’ Yuval Noah Harari-Sapiens.

However, the Onan boys have exported their rabid drivel abroad...A shameful group of wannabe prophets in London a couple of weeks ago were spewing dire craziness and waves of silliness dearly wishing to become important and individualised particles by being observed and applauded. One of their brilliant ideas is that the Great Reset, New World Order of children’s adrenochrome drinking liberal reptiles will be a QUOTE’ An authoritarian socialist government run by powerful capitalists.’ UNQUOTE. Howls of derisive laughter turning into the growl of a wolf with a curled top lip and my left eye twitching for a blackout minute. When sentience returned, I was fairly sure there is no way in this lifetime of me attaining Satori while consumed by this spite. Fear and self loathing in England part 23. To attempt to counter...

Putting the con into conspiracy theories... 1. IF the vaccine is; (A. A poison to cull the overpopulated millions, that would mean that every single decent doctor and nurse in the world is in on it and not one of them is spilling the beans. Neither scenario seems plausible in any way, therefore the first premise appears to be excrement. If Covid doesn’t exist and the x rays are ALL faked (showing the difference between pneumonia, cancer and covid lungs, that also aggressively suggests a high level of implausibility. If you truly believe medical professionals are mostly freemasons and/or serving the Illuminati in the name of genocide etc, you are just a MORON. A DUNGHEADED IDIOT.

As God tweeted last month; It’s always the really dumb who make life hard for the moderately dumb.’

Drug companies and politicians have always been deeply corrupt, some would say with great justification, evil.  Their foul business is as usual. But every nurse working a 16 hour shift in intensive care, do you honestly think they are doing it for the kicks to kill, for the (ha) money or to serve the Devil? Again, if Covid IS real but only the plebs are getting the bad vaccine and the here today gone tomorrow (unless they are Putin types) omnipotent holy world leaders are getting the good stuff...again this would be mighty hard to cover up. And it isn’t only the old, obese and those with ‘underlying health problems’ who are dying, teens and workers are too. No government wants to wreck its economy (apart from Brexit England) by murdering its workers, students and quarantining hundreds of thousands.

If the vaccine is a shot of death and the toll rises twice higher than it already is, governments will know that nobody will believe them the next time round when a new virus mutates...which is not good for mass control. (That said, I feel a deep grim certitude that step by blatant step, totalitarianism is coming to democracies as they realise the only way to dominate the drone masses is to do as China and Russia do.) But ‘why am I drifting into negativity’ eh?

And IF folk think the vaccine is a brain control agent by which we can be spied upon and controlled by our puppet masters via the ubiquitous spooky G5 masts, then the science of how the jab’s ingredients work (And could not possibly be activated with sound waves) should be explained in primary schools so the kids can go home and teach their elders with crayon. At the same time, the anti maskers need to watch videos (with their eyes held open (a la Clockwork Orange) of droplets in breath, the distance they travel without protection, the length of time they hang in the air and in what concentration. Humans react well to moving pictures, it might help. Yes that is dripping with rancid sarcasm. And as for those ranting that wearing masks causes illness, tell that to all the healthcare professionals of the last 100plus years who wore masks most of every bloody day, not just a couple of years. Did they all die of lung problems? I don’t have the actual statistics and I am damn sure you don’t either, so shut up and sit down. As Bill Hicks would say...

‘YOU SEE, IT MAKES NO SENSE’.

Beautiful to see so many holy men in the main religions, priests, rabbis, imans and pujari telling their flock to refuse the vaccine because it will (deep choking breath) make them impotent, gay and/or that it has cows blood and human foetuses in it. For the 23rd time, your shepherds will lead you to butchers again. Very spiritual blokes. Are any women as full of manure as this? Well actually...

One talking blonde cow on the London stage mooed about the vaccine being created by Bill ‘I think it makes sense to believe in God’ Gates, with the patent 060606, so was clearly ‘satanic’. Brilliant detective work and a rational conclusion. Except Bill didn’t formulate the vaccine and the patent was for an entirely different shot with an ACTUAL micro chip to measure if work had been completed and pay wages with Bitcoin. (Which, granted is creepy as fk, but nothing to do with Beelzebub or covid, unless you are going to bang on about none being able to buy or sell without the mark of the beast. So the antichrist is a protestant eh? I saw a video last year of an American ‘Christian’ woman blogger saying Bill was the devil, because of ‘the GATES of hell.’ That’s what we are up against and sidestepping the fk away from.

Those not vaccinated are walking time bomb laboratories of new variants.  Making their own beliefs real as they will be able to say ‘See, told you the vaccine doesn’t work’. Listen to the doctors and nurses begging you.

Once yet again with even more feeling...These demonstrations of hogwash moonshine bullshit theories, mixed in with a fine blend of ahem, ‘patriotism’ are ripping the country apart. On one side the increasingly corrupt English government and their lies and on the other, the deranged and deluded with their falsehoods. An empty vessel makes the most noise and both sides are ripening the fields for populism.

Using the enemy’s own strength against them, well known to Judo black belt KGB pretty boy Putin...widening and deepening internal divisions in democracies, using the basic mistrust of half the people against their governments and encouraging it...works like a charm in times of stress/ fear/ anger. Just let them do most of the work and their own momentum will destroy them...at very least weaken them for the kill. Britain, America, Europe  et al, you are being suckered and you bloody well deserve it for being so thick.

(Sidebar...By the way...Congratulations on 100 glorious years of Chinese communism and now all in the Middle Kingdom are being told, taught, trained, ORDERED to think just like Winnie the Pooh. Perfect unspoiled socialist paradise where millions wonder (as they do in most other places) ‘will there be any hunny for me?’ Unlikely...Communism doesn’t really work that way... another self righteous scam by those who seek power and to maintain their privilege. So the stick makes you keep plodding on for the promised carrot until all you believe in is the stick because it hurts and pain is real. (To greatly paraphrase Sir Terry Prachett, may he remain creative wherever he is.)  )       

Or...The Bilderbergers met a couple of years ago, discussed overpopulation and a threefold plan of how to deal with it...Release an airborne virus in several countries; allow it to spread for a year, Allow fear to rise. Use algorithms to predict the percentage of the obedient and those who will suspect conspiracy. When the vaccine is ‘found’ it will calm the believers for a while and enflame the rebels all the more who will look for ways to make it fit their own schemes of disbelief. This will cause a degree of expected demonstrations and rebellion...which will have the effect of enabling governments to create and quickly pass new laws on freedoms, including peaceful demonstration, to ‘protect’ the law abiding masses that need to believe all is for their own good.

The B boys talked about phased genocide, vaccines, drugs, supplies of medical equipment, government tenders to similar friends, knowing they will survive, and be well positioned to financially ride out the deaths and bankruptcies of lesser protected groups. Who they will then be able to buy out with ease and thus expand. The goldrush thrill of disaster capitalism! When all of this is (temporarily?) over, food and energy resources will be a little less stretched and/or  stricter controlling laws will be in place and democracies will be far easier to control . A sadistic lack of empathy from the richest sociopaths.

There doesn’t need to be anything weird in the vaccines now, people’s minds are doing the paranoid job in their imagination, either with fear or with anger. The rich will remain rich empowering themselves with their inhuman business as usual. Populists will appear to take the side of the people as long as they are rewarded with money and power...and are allowed to join the club. All ethics and morals sacrificed for the temporary glory of pretend immortality.

This was written very quickly over a period of a couple of nights but at least it is a page shorter than usual eh? J I have to concentrate on booking tests (150 pounds in England for a PCR test is RIP OFF. Bastards. The outrageous weight of my suitcase with all my cds and books plus some pants and socks, the forlorn hope of getting a free seat or at least cheap for one of my guitars. The fear I might not be allowed back in to where I am now because the UK still seems to be Boris covid red. And Brexit and being a tourist again. Love the way the brexiteers are pissed off they will have to pay a few Euros to enter Europe as a third country citizen. The Tories voted yes to this idea in 2016 and you voted to become a third country you idiots. So now, you get to stand for a looong time in a longer queue with all the brown people you so disparage. In your nostalgic pride for something which will never be again, you have relegated England to the status of a failed state and voted for the worst government in my lifetime. You should be ashamed but you will just double down.  Disgusting.

Anyway, late summer ‘holidays’ ahoy.  Stay sane and in rude health...hope to see you again, spreading my cosmic rays of great happiness, comfort and joy. Outside of the insanity, keep visualising...Female male left right brain...Yin and yang let’s do our thang...

Y=01=FIRE...WANDS...ADENINE

H=00=WATER...CUPS...THYMINE

V=11=AIR...SWORDS...CYSTOSINE

H=10=EARTH...DISCS...GUANINE

[insidethegiftbasket]

Domingo German

A Brief Editorial

I do not want German on the team. I do not like what he did, it appears that his teammates do not like what he’s done, and nothing he’s done off the field has made me think that he’s grown as a person. That said, he is a member of the team so Evan and I agreed to do a breakdown of him, and so I will be breaking down only his on the field work in here as fair as I possibly can. That said, hopefully it doesn’t matter because hopefully Deivi or Schmidt beat him out and take his job and the Yankees can send him off to KC or something.

A Second Brief Editorial

Evan here. Sam said everything I would, but with a greater sense of decorum. I have been actively booing his starts in ST with the same gusto that I cheer for Judge.

Okay, on to the stuff.

Basic Info

German is entering his age 29 season from San Pedro de Macoris, DR. He originally signed as an international free agent with the Marlins, but was traded to the Yankees along with Nathan Eovaldi and Garrett Jones for Martin Prado and David Phelps in 2014. After needing Tommy John surgery, the Yankees non-tendered him, but lack of interest elsewhere led to him re-signing with the team, eventually making his MLB debut in 2017. He will be arbitration eligible after this season, and is under team control through the 2024 season. Domingo also has one minor league option remaining.

2019 Breakdown

Outside of five bad starts in the Dominican Winter League this past offseason, Domingo hadn’t pitched since his suspension in late 2019. However, in 2019 he was a fairly effective pitcher- obviously people don’t take pitcher wins super seriously anymore, but he went 18-4 with the best win percentage in baseball in 2019 with a .818 ERA, and that was with him missing time due to suspension and a hip strain. His overall ERA wasn’t great (just over 4) and his xERA was worse (4.51), but he got the job done in a season where the Yankees had a billion injuries and had to use the opener more than you’d like to see.

As a reminder for what Domingo does as a pitcher, he throws a four seam fastball that sits around 93 with a ton of spin, a tight curveball with lower than normal break, a sinker that has a ton of movement, and a really nasty change up that he throws around 87 mph.

German’s biggest problem as a starter has been his home run tendencies- he gives up a LOT of hard contact and gave up a LOT of home runs in 2019- 30 homers allowed, with 18.8% of all fly balls he allowed ending up in the seats. He has changeup/sinker pitch mix to give up more ground balls, but his four seam and curveball are the pitches that get absolutely hammered. His curve is his go-to out pitch and his main option for getting swings and misses against lefties and righties, and it had a 45% whiff rate in 2019 which is really good. The issue is that 41.4% of the curveballs that were actually hit ended up being hard hit, and of the 99 curveballs that ended up put in play, 19% of them went for extra bases. Of the 145 four seams put in play, nearly 10% ended up as home runs! Hopefully, for both his and the Yankees sake, the ball not being juiced anymore will lower those home run numbers to a more manageable spot.

Split wise, German struck out a lot more lefties, but lefties had an OPS over .130 better than righties against him, and 20 of the 30 homers he gave up were to lefties. Surprisingly though, he was significantly better at home than on the road:

He was also a lot better earlier on in the season, which could be for a couple reasons:

The May numbers are highly inflated by one start in Kansas City, which is where Domingo’s hip issues began—after that start and two poor starts in June, he went on the IL for a month. The July numbers were also heavily inflated because Domingo started the classic game against Minnesota with the Hicks catch. He also pitched way more innings than he had in the past, so by the end of the season he was going from 6 or 7 innings a game to 3 or 4.

One of the positive things German has going for him (and also a reason why he gives up a lot of homers) is that he’s pretty accurate with his pitches:

That’s a lot of red inside the strike zone, and not a lot of wasted pitches either. German only walked 6.6% of batters in 2019 and averaged about 15 pitches an inning, so if he can stay healthy and built up he can be the kind of guy you can rely on to get you into the sixth or seventh inning and not have to use your bullpen after four innings. If he had pitched last year, I’d have a lot more faith in him being the other workhorse of the Yankees team, but having barely pitch for 18 months means that I’d expect them to take it slower with him, or for him to move to the pen towards August again.

I think for Domingo to ever be more than a fourth or fifth option on a team, he needs to improve his batted ball types. German is someone that when you hit him, you hit him hard, but giving up 52% of your balls as either fly balls or line drives (remember, 18.8% of those fly balls ended up as homers) is an issue. His curve is his most thrown pitch, and it’s his main strikeout pitch, but part of me wonders if a sinker/change approach may be better suited, especially against lefties, just to try and force more grounders.

Lastly, while his xERA was a half run higher than his actual ERA in 2019, it was nearly two runs lower in 2018 and below a 3.00 xERA in 2017, so even if he regresses a bit, he can still be a valuable pitcher for the team.

Optimistic 2021 Projection

Domingo stays healthy and despite not pitching for a year and a half, is still able to give the team length out of the rotation for most of the season. He averages almost six innings a start, and puts up a 4.00 ERA as the fifth starter, giving the bullpen a rest and letting the Yankees high powered offense pick up the slack against the other team’s worst pitchers. He’s on the postseason roster as a reliever who can give a little length, and makes an appearance in October in a blowout. He ends up being an important part of the team thanks to his consistency and the amount of innings he ends up eating.

Pessimistic 2021 Projection

It turns out that missing a year and a half is really bad for pitching, and despite the good spring training stats, Domingo is terrible in the regular season. He has an ERA over 6 after April, and is sent down for Deivi Garcia. After an injury to a starter, Domingo gets the call back up, but continues to be bad, as he gives up homer after homer, including a five bomb game against Toronto as the Jays finish off the sweep. Domingo gets the boot and is designated for assignment the next day, and ends up pitching in Mexico in 2022.

Sam’s Official 2021 Gift Basket Projection

I think German will be mostly fine for the first half of the season- I’d expect an ERA around 4.50, averaging around six innings a start, with a couple starts looking really ugly with teams teeing off on him and a couple starts where he looks like an ace. However, I do think he ends up running out of steam around the All Star break, which is when he’ll most likely be replaced in the rotation by Schmidt, Severino, or Garcia, and that he’ll end up being a long man out of the pen down the stretch.

Join us tomorrow as Evan tries to remember whether its Zack or Zach, as we take you Inside the Gift Basket on RP, Zac(h/k) Britton.