#literally no threads are any help on this either

[sweaterkittensahoy]

A quick resource round up if you need yarn and shopped at Joann

I don't remember all of Joann's brands, so forgive me if I miss one, but here's everything I can think of that either will help you buy stuff you've used or give you a new place to look for yarn.

Yarnspirations will have everything for Red Heart, Caron, Patons, Lily Sugar 'n' Cream, Bernat, Aunt Lydia's, and Coats & Clark. (I made a post about this yesterday but don't want to skip it.)

Lion Brand's website will have any Lion Brand you need.

Plymouth yarn is one of those companies that shows you what they have but then you have to look at their shop list to find it.

Yarn.com is a huge yarn selling company with a lot of options, including Plymouth.

Creative Yarn Source is a website where you can get Omega-brand threads and yarns. I don't know if Hobby Lobby still carries Omega, but they did 15 years ago (I made a terrible vest [my fault; not the yarn] right before we moved to PDX). Lots of thread sizes and colors.

Knitpicks has size 10 and size 3 thread in a bunch of colors. It's called Curio. It's under laceweight. For a good acrylic worsted, I recommend their Brava. I also prefer their Dishie to Sugar 'N' Cream just because I like how it softens up a bit more.

We Crochet is actually just Knitpicks but aimed at primarily crocheters rather than knitters. They don't one-to-one on yarn options, which bothers me, but I'm sure it's based on what crocheters buy most often vs. what knitters buy most often. That site also has some extra brands on it, too.

If you need to sub a yarn, yarnsub.com is literally just that. They have a whole rating system. I've used it several times to source similar or replacement yarns.

Hobbii has always been a great resource for me, but if you are looking for an exact yarn, it's not going to be what you need. It's a Danish company, so shipping takes a little time, but every yarn I've gotten from them I've really liked. Their "Friends" line has stuff I would definitely consider workhorse sort of options.

Wool and the Gang has a website where you can buy directly from them.

Big Twist yarns has a website, but it just sends you to Amazon to buy, so here's the link to the page of it from Craftz brand. You can use this same link to get the Easy Peasy yarn for Woobles.

Premier Yarns has a website where you can buy directly from them.

Herrschners carries a bunch of different yarns, and if you like kits, that's a lot of their business.

[kos-mos]

i’m this close to jsut full ass deleting sims 4 and finding like a game crack of sims 3 instead

this game is really pissing me off tonight

[ms-demeanor]

Honestly it seems your issues with homeopathy would be mostly remedied if the practitioners were made to work with doctors, or had to get their own MD. Because most of them can definitely help when used properly, they just usually aren't 😬

I mean.

My issue with homeopathy specifically is that it does not work, it has no way of working, and people pay money for homeopathic "medicines" that could be spent on actual treatment and may delay starting actual treatment in favor of homeopathy.

Homeopathy is either "correctly" diluted and completely ineffective (because "correctly" made homeopathic preparations are so diluted that they don't contain any of the "curative" compounds) or are "incorrectly" diluted and are literally poison.

There are plenty of shitty MDs out there who will recommend homeopathic "medicines" or other quackery; what I would prefer is if the claims made about homeopathic medicines were examined by the FDA or similar bodies for veracity before they could be sold and if they were otherwise subject to the same kinds of regulatory scrutiny as, like, aspirin manufacturers are.

If anyone wants a basic explanation of why homeopathy doesn't work, here's an ELI5 reddit thread about the question; in particular, here's a comment by someone defending homeopathy that is comprehensively responded to with explanations of why the commenter defending homeopathy is wrong.

For more a more rigorous explanation, here is the European Academies' Science Advisory Council assessment of homeopathy; I particularly recommend looking at section three, "Key issues for evaluating and communicating evidence."

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[mihii-i]

form of worship.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, redo of the brothel vision scene because I fucking hate it, flashback yippee, you’re not here w her unfortunately mizu just thinks of reader, I made this more passionate because I just don’t like taizu and I get more action than taigen cause I’m her wife obvi, praise, fingering, crying, sough rex, the kink where you drag your nails along someone’s back (do not tell anyone I have that this stays here.), mizu’s confused about gay people lmfao, hehehehe switch mizu yes I live for switch mizu, bottom lean tho cause im thirsty rn, not proofread.

A/N: here’s the little poll winner request cause you freakazoids (lovingly) requested anyway this is literally just the brothel sequence but with mizu imagining you instead of baldie (I hate that scene sm I pretend it doesn’t exist lmfaooo) anyway have fun cause it’s almost midnight so writing might be a little off. 🕯️

“He was honest with his desire, that is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul.”

Madame Kaji’s smooth voice rang around the thick atmosphere clouded with lust, her voice soft like a bundle of silk running fluidly without any openings or stray threads. Slim spills of golden light poured out from the thin, rectangular peephole that slid open to observe such acts through the periphery a singular eye.

Orange glasses lowered to rest atop the bridge of her nose, Mizu couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the raw skin to skin contact, both a woman and the samurai from the duel earlier brushing up against each other so sinfully, while another man pressed against the samurai’s back to loom over his wide shoulders. Her pupils dilated wide within the rim of her cerulean eyes, fixated on how the dull yellow brightness outlining their bodies in the midst of a firey passion scorching within the confines of the heated ambience.

She had solely convinced herself that such acts were nothing but a medium of self indulgence in the pleasure of another. An addictive feeling that is solely useless to partake in. Sexual pleasure could either be a soul entangling act of love, coursing through the veins in an ardent ache throbbing within someone to love and please the other. While on the other end, it could be the exact opposite. A heightened, sadistic thirst to satisfy one’s selfish desires to bask in, as well as inflict harm upon another in rugged destruction where the reciever pleads for it to be over. The duality alone was enough to draw Mizu away from the prospect of something supposedly disgusting to her.

So why couldn’t she tear her eyes away from the two men, engaged so deeply in their fervor together?

Mizu opened her mouth to speak for a moment, eyes still locked onto the grasp of the three in the room rocking against each other as a chorus of quiet moans gradually grew louder from the inside. Her mouth hung dry in response though, not a single word rasping out of her mouth in the usual stern tone that lowly hummed against her throat. She wanted to deny the potential thought of sex being an act of worship as Madame Kaji had proposed, trying to force out the words of desire being beyond the need of her purpose.

Madame Kaji only flashed her a satisfied smile at the sight of her gaze transfixed onto the passionate act between the three within the room. The corners of her cherry lips perked up at the sight, cautiously stepping toward Mizu.

“Has the gentleman finally caught sight of an act that piqued his interest?” She inquired, under the impression that sexual relations with a man was what Mizu had desired.

That wasn’t it.

A man with another man? Although quite different to her, the act itself between two of the same sex seemed beautiful in her sights, a fresh bond between the two men being honest with their desires in a way that wasn’t the norm nor taboo, yet was rather welcome as a beauty of preference to one another.

Could two women partake in the same act?

Mizu blinked at the abrupt thought she had, her bottom lip curled into a thin line dashed below her nose. She wondered to herself that if women weren’t so confined in such a society, remaining as open to several options as men were…could two women be honest with their desires in the same affection to crave one another?

Her mind began flood with scenarios as she blankly dulled her eyes into the two men’s lips smashed up against one another’s, not particularly looking at them with much interest. Rather, she wanted to know how it would feel to outline her hands along the smooth skin of another woman. Head racing with scenarios of you in particular, rather than some random woman she picked up on. It was clear Mizu had missed you, yet she didn’t think it was to the extent where her thoughts were clouded with fucking you in the same way the do in these brothels.

Face flushing deeply, the upper end of the bridge of her nose was dusted in a gentle blush of pink, diffusing to the thin bones of her cheeks. All she could picture in the moment while staring blankly—were the calloused ridges of her fingers tracing along your curves as her palms carefully dug into the plush of your bare skin, handling you cautiously as if you were a porcelain doll, fragile to her unmerciful hand.

Lips grazing the flesh of your throat while her skull was nothing but a whirlwind of desire for you, longing to hear your drawn out noises as the compulsive need to feel you clenching around her waned at any composure she kept within her. Mizu continued to observe the acts of the two, with less interest in what they partook in and rather what she wanted to lock you into, imagining the infatuating sight of your nude frame sprawled out below her, legs held up to your chest with only one of her hands as her gloves chafed against the bristles of hair on your knees.

Mizu bit her bottom lip subtly at the lone idea itself of her free hand sunken into your cunt while she took in your cries of pleasure circling her, the heightened want and desperation in your voice bouncing off the walls into every corner of the room as you enclosed the velvety warmth of your walls around the ridges of her digits. Simply burying them knuckles deep in you, your body bouncing up and down with each thrust as she kissed you all over as a sweet act of love coated in pleasure until your inevitable climax.

Gods, she couldn’t keep you out of her mind.

Even when the two men flipped over, Mizu strangely enough was only able to dissolve her previous thoughts into a whole new scenario, one of which made her skin burn as a bead of sweat built up directly below her jaw on the vein of her neck. Feeling as if her head was throbbing at the influx of perverted thoughts, she didn’t attempt to push away any idea of you laying on top of her as well, hands flat against her waist to press her into a tatami mat.

Such a shameless thought of you taking her on the floor itself only sent her reeling into a mess, brain short circuiting as her knees pushed closer together than they already were. Attempting to push back the simple, raw idea of your fingers brushing along that spot within her, massaging the spongy end that addictively buries your fingers into the soft warmth of her pussy, was nothing but a futile attempt.

It was hard to push back, especially darting to the idea of your teeth grazing the edge of her collarbone as you hummed against the crook of her neck, uttering out soothing words of praise along her skin as a shiver racked Mizu’s body. Tears stinging at the corner of her eyes as her legs tightly coiled around your bare waist, obscene moans she attempted to suppress spilling from her lips as your fingers sunk into her cunt enveloping you with a welcome warmth.

Each gentle word of affection rasped out by your hushed voice against her throat serving to prick more tears welling up in her eyes from the sheer emotion blending into the sensation of pleasure arching her body in a dome off the ground as your palm ground against her sensitive clit. Her fingers traced along your back as you rammed your fingers into her against the mat while her body jousted upward with the slam of three of your fingers inside her, nails dug into your back as she raked down your skin in a wake of bright red blooming along the ridges of goosebumps.

Mizu knew how damn loud she was, the fact even coming to enticingly haunt her in her fantasies as she envisioned the lewd noises wrenched out of her throat while she dug her nails into your back, your fingers nudging up against her cervix as she let out a pleading sob at the sheer stimulation driven by your love. Only being able to imagine the blanking feeling mentally as she snapped from her climax, her lithe figure arching to the cool air assaulting her bare skin as it drew in shiver along her exposed tits, chest heaving up and down as you captured her in a gentle kiss.

Her imagination subsided as soon as she lost sight of the three within the room upon grounding herself back into reality, the heat dusted across still lingering along the midpoint of her sharp facial structure. When Mizu had imagined your hands on her, or even her hands pressed onto your body, she couldn’t help but ponder Madame Kaji’s words once more…she wanted you in a way that could be considered a form of worship.

“Have you found your desire?”

Madame Kaji’s words cut through Mizu’s elevated state as she stared through the warmth of her glasses wide eyed, swallowing back the embarrassment accumulated from the strangely detailed scenario. Mizu only shook her head in response, replying in a hesitant voice firmly.

She shut her eyes under the facade of being calm, her fingers pressed to the wood before dragging it across to slide the window closed as she pursed her lips shut.

“Desire is beyond the need of my purpose.”

A/N: bye I have midterms next week anyway this is fine but like yall voted for this don’t even

ily all no matter how freaky yall are (im acting like I’m not)

I was gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing this and it’s 2 am I’m sleepy gn.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up. 

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click. 

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel. 

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly. 

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down - 

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her. 

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street. 

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything. 

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’ 

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought - 

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical. 

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains. 

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below. 

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done. 

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen. 

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder. 

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes. 

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean. 

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim. 

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck. 

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto. 

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something. 

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table. 

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips. 

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile. 

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it. 

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door. 

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual. 

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat. 

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’ 

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him. 

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you. 

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

[elllisaaa]

i saw that you said you like writing "bf!thoughts" so i was wondering if you could make one abt jeonghan ??? 🤭

BF!JEONGHAN who can be a little menace when he wants to because it's in his nature, but everyone can see the very obvious soft spot he has for you.

from the outside, the way jeonghan is always teasing you and the way you're always getting back at him can seem a little strange, but all your friends know that it's only your way to communicate. in public, jeonghan is not very touchy even if he always stays close to you and that you never leaves his sight. but in private, he's so affectionate that it's hard to think that it's the same man. and it's only because he feels so at ease, so safe with you that he allows himself to be this vulnerable. it's not rare for him to go home exhausted and fall directly in your embrace, your fingers threading through his hair and massaging his scalp because it's his favourite thing ever - he almost purrs like a cat every time you do that. jeonghan is a little cuddle bug that only wants to be loved once you and him are alone, and you're more than happy to provide him that. also, he's never not sleeping in your arms and when he's particularly tired, he will ask to be the little spoon.

"i just want you to hold me close tonight angel."

jeonghan loves to hear you talk about the things you're passionate about, sometimes striking up conversations about a subject you're particularly interested in just to see that little sparkle in your eyes when you explain to him some complicated biology concept he doesn't even understand. whenever you go on a rant like that, he looks at you with the softest eyes and it makes you melt every time. as i mentioned before, he's a good listener, meaning that he always knows what to say or to do to help you feel better and that he will stay there listening to you for hours if you need to get something out of your chest. usually, you do the talking, both because jeonghan loves the sound of your voice but also because he prefers to show his love through acts of service ; like doing the dishes or cleaning your apartment for you, doing the laundry or the groceries when you're caught up with work or uni. it's his own way of telling you that he loves you immensely.

"it's nothing much angel, i know you hate it when your apartment is a mess. you know you can count me, right ?"

even if you're his girlfriend, that doesn't jeonghan from teasing you. he's even more playful with you because he knows that you can get back at him and that he knows you enough to not cross any boundaries. and if that does ever happen - which is very rare - jeonghan is quick to say sorry and to remind you that you're his favourite person in the world. he also loves to be praised by you, every compliment you give to him makes a cocky smirk appear on his face. but sometimes, when you blurt out some praises out of the blue, jeonghan can't help but blush a little and stumble over his words as he tries to find a clever response. but often, his heart beats too fast for him to think straight. when he's like that, he hides his face in the crook of your neck and whines about how mean you are because he can't cope with you being so sweet.

"yah ! don't say it like that, you're gonna make me blush."

BF!JEONGHAN who doesn't stop being a menace when you take things to the bedroom, in fact he becomes a little monster.

of course this man is the master of edging, there is literally not a single day passing by without you being edged. once he starts denying your orgasms, he won't stop until you're crying and begging for him to let you cum. jeonghan loves to have control over the pleasure you get, and that extends even to when you can touch yourself or not when he's away. that is only because he loves when you're all needy and desperate for him. jeonghan is always ripping one or two orgasms away from you with either his fingers or his tongue before even giving you his cock. and when he finally does, he doesn't let you cum before he's satisfied with how much he ruined you. when jeonghan feels the need to torture you even more, he takes out the toys, forcing a vibrator against your clit until you're squirming around saying that he's too mean, and he just looks at you with a smirk on his face. the way you're repeating "thank you" over and over when he finally lets you cum over his cock is what really gets him going.

"wanna cum ? not yet angel, i want to touch you some more. you can wait for me, right ?"

jeonghan loves it when you're needy for him, think it's cute and arousing to have you so desperate for him sometimes, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you about it, be that through actions or words. he's totally capable of putting in only the tip of his cock because he wants to see you cry for him. and he will definitely degrade you through his words - telling you that you're pathetic when you're begging for his attention, calling you a slut when you ask to suck his cock, calling you a whore when you're whining for more as he's fucking you at the slowest pace possible. it's cute how you try to deny his words as best as you can, how you try to do anything and everything to please him and do better. but that doesn't stop jeonghan from cooing at you with a condescending tone every time, until tears gather in your eyes. though, he's a king at taking care of you after - praises, a glass of water and all the kisses you need.

"what did you say ? you want more ? you're such a slut for my cock, always so greedy for it."

he still has some more loving moments, especially when he's tired and needs to relax. when he's too exhausted to fuck you himself, jeonghan lets you get on top of him and ride his cock, his hands weakly helping you move your hips up and down. the prettiest airy moans slip from his lips every time you drop down on his dick, and he's often quick to cum, too tired to hold back - and you're happy to help him relax. jeonghan also loves to be taken care of sometimes, and when you're all over him, it both inflates his ego and turns him on. he adores when he just came home and you're already eager to drop down on your knees and take him in your mouth. he likes to be cocky about how you're the one being always needy for him, but the moment your lips or hands wrap around his shaft, his brain turns to mush and he cannot think about anything else than covering your hand in his cum, especially when he's had a long day.

"don't stop angel, you're so good at this, gonna cum all over your pretty face."

[koqabear]

Addicted To You

♡ continuation of Take It! but can be read as a stand-alone.

“It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen either Beomgyu or Taehyun, away for a business trip like always— after three weeks without seeing them, they’re eager to show you how much they missed you.”

beomgyu x fem!reader x taehyun

Genre: fluff, smut, porn with no plot. at all. 

Word count 4.7K

warnings: barely edited, poly relationship but no mxm…they’re chaebols for those who don’t know, gyu is kinda bratty, it’s literally just smut

smut warnings: dom!tae, dom!beomgyu, sub!mc, threesome, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, pet names, (baby, pretty, sweetheart, etc.) dry humping, marking, praise, degrading, manhandling, breast play, mocking, exhibitionism, oral (f & m rec.) slight masturbation, handjob, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, (m. rec) slight dumbification, mentions of safe word, dacryphilia, creampies, aftercare (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: didn’t rlly think i’d commit to this, but take it holds a silly little place in my heart bc it was the first fic to help me gain traction on my dying blog 😭 (no, there were no other reasons as to why i wrote this tf) 

Study sessions with Taehyun usually go well— he’s a great teacher, and is able to guide you through even the hardest concepts with ease; usually, you end study sessions with no energy at all, more than ready to sink into your bed with your arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Usually, you don’t find yourself where you are now— on top of him, your fingers threaded into his hair as you tug him closer to you. 

“Thought you were tired?” He teases, fully enjoying the way you grind against him, needy and reckless as you simply whine at his comment, “What happened to just cuddling, sweetheart?”

“Does it look like I’m in the mood to just cuddle?” you mock, pulling away from his addicting lips with a frown— he simply laughs, playing along as he sends you an innocent look— though there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands are splayed across the small of your back, encouraging the soft rock of your hips by keeping you pressed firmly onto him, “I haven’t seen you in weeks, missed you so much.”

Taehyun’s smile grows wicked; there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans forward to place sultry kisses on your neck, plump lips sucking and biting teasingly as he litters marks on any skin that’s left accessible to him. 

“You missed me, pretty? How much?” he teases, mumbling the words against your neck as his hands slip under your shirt, fingers wandering as he feels the way you practically melt at his touch. The small whimper you let out isn’t lost on him as he bucks his hips up into you, prompting you to answer him with a soft bite to the sensitive spot on your neck. 

“So much. So so much,” you ramble, unable to stop your desperate movements as you grind into him, able to feel the way his cock is already hard and pressed perfectly against you, biting your lip in a pathetic attempt to suppress your sounds, “Couldn’t even call you while you away, you were so busy.”

“Wow, I can’t believe this,” you immediately freeze at the sound of the voice— your eyes are wide open as you turn around in Taehyun’s grasp, mouth agape as you realize that you didn’t even notice the bedroom door opening, much less hear Beomgyu come in as he sits comfortably on the chair in the corner, arms crossed and expression unamused as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Is he the only one to get a warm welcome?” he pouts, shining eyes almost fooling you into thinking he’s seconds away from tearing up, “You didn’t miss me?”

“Gyu,” you gape, untangling yourself from Taehyun as you attempt to go to him immediately— only to be pulled back by Taehyun, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he presses you flush against him, chin slotting itself on your shoulder as he laughs at the whine you let out, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until next week.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he admits, leaning back in the chair as he lets out a soft tsk, taking in the way Taehyun continues his assault on your neck— you’re weak to his touches as you let out soft gasps, squirming in his grip and inevitably grinding harder against him as a result, “Though it seems you’re busy— I’ll get going then.”

“Beomgyu, ah, wait,” your voice is whiny and pathetic as you call out to him, stopping him in his tracks as he glances back at you— he takes in the way you reach out toward him helplessly, eyes darkening at the way Taehyun continues to hold you close, not planning to let you go soon as his eyes flicker up; they meet Beomgyu’s, and he’s unable to hold back his sly smile as his hands wander under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your chest before he’s expertly playing with your breasts— the way you cry out from his touches and place your hands on his forearms is amusing, and Beomgyu is quick to catch onto Taehyun’s intentions as he simply huffs out a soft laugh. 

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, tilting his head as he goes to stand before you— just out of reach, your attempts to grab onto him and tug him closer futile as you simply look up at him with teary eyes, whimpering softly at the way Taehyun begins to rut up into you, “Isn’t Tyunnie enough for you?” 

The nickname has Taehyun rolling his eyes— Beomgyu’s wicked smile of amusement only makes Taehyun more irritated, even more so when you begin protesting that you want him, too.

“It’s not that,” you say, struggling to utter a coherent sentence from the way Taehyun continues to stimulate you, your brain turned to mush from his touch alone, “Just missed you… want you, missed both of you s’much…”

Both men are laughing at your state— your fucked out expression and bruised lips from Taehyun’s harsh bites is enough to have them hooked, and Beomgyu has to take a deep breath in order to keep his hands off you. 

“Our sweet girl,” Taehyun hums, kissing your cheek fondly, a stark contrast to the way he continues to stimulate you, expert fingers tweaking at your nipples while he continues to roll his hips up into you; you don’t seem to notice the moment one of his hands begins to slide down coyly, slipping under your shorts and rubbing your clit teasingly over your panties— you both hiss at the feeling, and Taehyun bites his lips at the feeling of you completely soaking your underwear, “Why don’t you show Gyu how much you missed us, hmm?”

You’re nodding immediately; your hips are canting at his touch, and you can’t seem to get your eyes off Beomgyu, who simply takes you in with hungry eyes, stepping closer in order to cup your cheek, leaning down until his hips are hovering over yours.

“Still such a greedy thing, aren’t you?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper as you simply cry at his words. It’s all too much for you— Taehyun’s body against yours, his soft huffs against your skin, his wandering lips and hands that don’t detach themselves from your body for even a moment— and Beomgyu’s soft hand that caresses your face fondly, staring at you with such pity in his eyes you can’t help but feel small under his gaze, “Can’t even help yourself from touching us the moment we come back to you.”

You don’t bother to refute his claims— because it’s all true, and you don’t bother to feel an ounce of shame from it, not when the two men before you can’t seem to get away from you for a second, either. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Beomgyu asks, taking in the way your movements grow frantic, your mouth slightly agape and letting out streams of moans that only worsen from his question, “So close already? Come on baby, show me how much you missed us.”

Beomgyu’s lips are soft and hungry the moment they crash against yours— he’s held back long enough, unable to control his need to feel you panting and moaning against his lips the second you crash down from your high— your frantic hands grip Beomgyu’s perfectly pressed dress shirt tightly, though he couldn’t care less about it, not when you’re pulling him toward you desperately and kissing him as though you haven’t seen him in years. 

“Shit…” Taehyun groans, fingers drifting down to your clothed slit, face buried into your neck as he laughs breathily— you jolt against him as you feel his middle and ring finger run along your cunt teasingly, feeling your panties stick to you and pressing against your entrance to feel how wet you are— you’re whining softly in embarrassment, though you can’t control the shocks of pleasure that still jolt through you, pulling away from Beomgyu’s lips to burrow into his chest from the sensitivity. 

“She’s so wet,” Taehyun smiles, raising his head to meet Beomgyu’s— the two men feel weak to the way you grow flustered at their words, still shy as ever as you mumble incoherently into Beomgyu’s chest— Taehyun’s hold on you grows slack, but you don’t bother to stand up, still able to feel the way his hard cock throbs against you, weak to the feeling of him under you. 

“Poor thing,” Beomgyu coos, rubbing your back in a way that’s more patronizing than soothing, “Guess we left you alone for too long, hmm? Can’t last this long without us, is that it?” 

Your desperation is endearing to Beomgyu— though it’s something he’ll never say out loud, choosing instead to tease and poke fun at you as he takes in your weak protests and flustered reactions with a deep satisfaction. 

With the two here, you don’t need to move a muscle— not when they can do it for you, allowing them to put you in any position they want as you find yourself laying on the bed, thighs rubbing impatiently as you watch them with wide expectant eyes, waiting for their next move as they hover over you. 

“Won’t you ask how our trip was?” Beomgyu asks, his sweet smile doing nothing to deter your mind from the fact that Taehyun is sinking to his stomach, situating himself comfortably between your legs as he begins to pry your bottoms off— his eyes flicker down to your line of sight, and he’s able to catch the way your panties are soaked through with your arousal, your pretty cunt still glistening from your last orgasm.

“Baby?” He asks again, taking a hold of your chin and forcing you to look back up at him. He’s pouting, petulant as always when he realizes your attention isn’t solely on him, “Eyes on me, baby. Answer my question, won’t you?”

“H…How was your trip…?” you’re trailing off indignantly the moment you feel Taehyun’s mouth on you; it’s warm and messy as his tongue is instantly licking up the remnants of your arousal, your legs twitching at the feeling before he’s throwing them over his shoulders— his grip is bruising on your thighs as he keeps you in place, sucking and licking and moaning against your cunt like a crazed man.

“It was so boring,” Beomgyu says, seemingly unfazed by the way Taehyun is pressed against your cunt, the intensity of it all making your brows furrow and your eyes glaze with pleasure; you’re gripping at the sheets as your mouth falls open, able to feel the way his nose presses against your clit as his tongue enters you smoothly, humming out in satisfaction as the vibrations only make you yelp with pleasure— though, after a moment, you’re able to take notice of the way Beomgyu’s hand has begun to palm at his cock, eyes drinking in even your most miniscule changes of expression as he smiles. 

“Couldn’t stand being away from you for so long,” he continues, glancing back to where Taehyun hums in agreement; he’s raising his head from where it’s buried between your legs for a second, his face shining with your arousal as he sends you a charming smile— you simply whine at the way you feel his fingers teasing your entrance, circling and prodding at it before they’re sinking into you; he’s curling and pumping them immediately, eager to pull out any reactions from you as he aims for all your sensitive spots with ease. 

“Both of us,” Beomgyu adds, watching as Taehyun sends you one last coy look before his eyes fall back on your pussy— your face feels hot as you watch his lips attach themselves to your clit, looking back up at you with innocent eyes as he continues to fuck with you with his fingers, adding a third before you can even process it. 

Beomgyu is as needy as ever as he scolds you to look back up at him— your eyes widen slightly as you take in the way he’s taken his cock out, stroking it slowly and furrowing his brows the moment you begin watching him; you’re reaching up to wrap a hand around him without a second thought, and he’s cursing lowly under his breath at the feeling of your warm hand, pumping him slowly and taking in the way his tip leaks profusely. 

“Thought of you the whole time…” he mumbles, wincing slightly at the way you shift toward him in order to wrap your mouth around him; your tongue darts out to lick at his tip teasingly, doe eyes only enticing him further as he cups your face with a fond look, “I thought of calling you— I had so many nights where I couldn’t sleep, just thought of you…”

Beomgyu can’t begin to count how many times he laid on the bed of his hotel room, eyes screwed shut as he fucked himself to the memory of you— more often than not, he thought of calling your during those times— he thought of sending you a video, a picture, anything that could show you just how much he needed you; instead, he decided to remain patient, to let his energy pent up until he finally saw you again. 

Now that you lay before him, your movements on his cock faltering from the feeling of Taehyun’s tongue against your pussy, fingers hitting all the spots that make your stomach twist up in knots, he’s not sure how he’ll contain himself— three weeks without you was simply a death sentence to him. 

“You should’ve called,” you whine out, your voice weak and shaky as your thighs tighten around Taehyun’s head; he remains unfazed by the action, his soft hair ticklish against your skin as he merely presses himself against you more— the bed begins to rock from how much you squirm from his ministrations, though the way he’s begun to rut into the mattress is also to blame.

“I would’ve helped you, I… ah…!” you’re unable to finish your sentence. Beomgyu’s hand has begun to guide your own on his cock, though you don’t seem to realize it from the way your eyes are screwed shut, your helpless noises growing louder and spurring Taehyun to pleasure you more— you can already begin to imagine the marks his fingers will leave on your thighs from how hard he’s got you, keeping you firmly against him and preventing you from escaping as he leads you to your second orgasm of the night— one of many you can tell, at least from the way the two watch you with dark, hungry eyes. 

You’re a whimpering and weak mess as Taehyun lets you ride out your orgasm; he’s licking up your cum eagerly, enjoying the way you twitch and cry from the overstimulation of it all, your voice already slightly hoarse as you meekly plead Taehyun to stop, please please please, too much…

He only stops when he feels a sharp tug at his hair— though, unlike you, who tries to tug at his roots in a controlled manner to not hurt him, this action is clearly meant to hurt, and he’s already sending Beomgyu a lethal glare as the said man simply smiles back, keeping him away from you as Taehyun winces at the feeling. 

You’re unaware of it all— you’re still catching your breath, your shirt hiked up and exposing your chest, taking deep breaths as your eyes remain shut— you’re especially unaware of the way they seem to be communicating silently, Beomgyu’s grip loosening from Taehyun’s hair as he simply sends him a look, mouthing words that have Taehyun letting out a soft oh. Before you can question it, you’re being moved again. 

“Baby, do you remember why we went on this trip?” Beomgyu asks you, moving you back until you’re almost against the headboard; you’re sitting up, and Beomgyu is right beside you as he smiles, your brain fuzzy as he waits for your answer with bright eyes— his smile widens slightly the moment you begin to mumble incoherently about renewing a partnership with a company— laughing softly, he kisses you, short and sweet as he nods.

“And it went well,” he says, his heart swelling as he takes in the way you slur out a soft congratulations, “So I— Tyunnie and I… were thinking we should celebrate.” 

“Celebrate?” you ask, peering up at him through dazed eyes; his hands have begun to wander, relishing in being able to feel your skin again as he nods.

“Do you trust us, baby?” Taehyun has appeared at your other side; they cage you in, though it doesn’t feel pressuring or dangerous as they wait for your answer with loving eyes. 

“Yes.”

Your answer is immediate— and you mean it, taking in the way the two only give you mischievous smiles in return; before you can process what’s going on, they’re asking you to change positions— Beomgyu currently lays back against the headboard as you hover over him, his clothes discarded as his fingers play with the hem of your tee— rather, their tee, unsure of who’s it might be, but knowing that it’s not your own simply from the way it looks on your figure.

“Safe word?” Beomgyu asks softly, beginning to tug your shirt up before you’re obeying and taking it off; tossing it to the side, you mumble the safe word you all agreed upon, and he’s sending you an endearing smile before he’s tugging your hips down; he hisses softly at the feeling of your warm cunt fluttering around his tip, already able to feel your seeping arousal before you finally sink onto him.

“Fuck, oh shit,” he sighs, feeling the way you stretch around him, much tighter than he remembers as you simply whine at the feeling, “God, did you really miss us this much, pretty girl?”

The way you nod without hesitation has Beomgyu laughing softly; he’s reaching to take your hands, tugging at you until you’re hovering over him, your hands on either side of his head as he pouts softly at you.

“Who’d you miss more,” he begins, his antics nothing new to you as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Me or Tyunnie?”

There’s a right answer here, he mutters, groaning softly as he finally bottoms out inside you, feeling your hips flush against his as he bucks his hips up— whether he’s trying to get you to moan out his name or he simply can’t control himself like he tells you, you’re unsure. 

“Missed both of you,” you whine, and you fall onto him pathetically the moment he bucks his hips up into you roughly, your body jolting up from the motion.

“Really?” he asks, patting your head softly as you nod against him, “Then, do you want Tyunnie to fuck you too?” 

Mindlessly, you nod— then you freeze, feeling as though there’s more to what Beomgyu is asking as you sit back up, sending him a confused look that only makes him smile with endearment. 

“What?” he says, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you come in contact with Taehyun’s bare chest, twisting your head to look back at him— but you’re unable to, only being able to feel his firm chest press against your back, warm hands rubbing up and down your thighs soothingly as he places feathery kisses along your shoulder, “Since you can never pick between us, why not have both?”

His comment is both condescending and lighthearted— he doesn’t mind sharing, but he knows that mentioning it is always enough to fluster you— and, like clockwork, you tense up, unsure of what to say as Taehyun begins to leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, going up, up up until he’s finally reached you ear, placing a kiss behind it before he’s whispering a soft don’t you wanna feel good, pretty? the words barely whispered as you make eye contact with Beomgyu, who was already unable to keep his eyes off you. 

The moment you catch on, Beomgyu lets out a soft moan— he can feel you clench around him, your warm walls fluttering around him and causing him to throw his head back, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure as you simply whine at the sight, feeling the way his cock ruts into you from response. 

“What do you say then, pretty?” Taehyun asks, his scent overtaking your senses from how close he is to you, something you didn’t think you missed as much as you did as you find yourself leaning back against him, your head tilting back to rest against his shoulder as you bite your lip, taking a moment to respond as Taehyun begins littering kisses along your jaw. 

“Yes, please, I want you— want you both, need you both to fuck me,” your words practically have the two malfunctioning— You can feel Taehyun smile against your jaw as Beomgyu’s hips jump up once more, and you allow Taehyun to place one last chaste kiss on your lips before he’s guiding you to lean back down.

You’ve never done this before— you’ve never thought of doing this, but as Beomgyu begins to fuck into you slowly, allowing you to loosen up around him for Taehyun, you realize that this business trip must’ve affected them much more than they let on. 

You tense slightly the moment you feel Taehyun’s tip prod at your full entrance; Beomgyu catches onto it instantly, muttering a soft still okay? against the crown of your head, only giving Taehyun a nod of confirmation the moment you tell him yes. 

“Relax for us, okay?” Taehyun coos, rubbing your skin soothingly and only continuing once he sees the tension leave your body— carefully, he begins to enter you. 

You already felt full enough with either of them inside you— but now, as you felt Taehyun finally slip inside, the three of you letting out pleasured sounds from it, you feel absolutely stuffed. 

“ffffu…. god… why didn’t we try this sooner,” you hear Beomgyu groan, jaw clenched as he focuses on not coming inside you then and there— the way you whine and whimper into his ear is enough to have him shutting his eyes, letting out another groan as he feels Taehyun bottom out, the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other filthy and new, your fingers gripping onto Beomgyu’s shoulder desperately as you will yourself to hover over him. 

Beomgyu looks entirely fucked out; his expression probably mirrors yours, his face flushed and his eyes blown out with lust as he sends you a coy smile; behind you, you can feel Taehyun lean down to press against you, a hand securing itself on your waist while the other supports his weight— his head is buried in the crook of your neck, trying to hide the weak whines he lets out once he finally begins to pull out. 

The moment he thrusts back in, you can already feel tears prick at your eyes— you’re loud and unabashed in your sounds as they finally begin to fuck you, experimenting a bit before they finally find a good rhythm. 

When Beomgyu pulls out, Taehyun thrusts back in— it’s a cycle that leaves you constantly full and weak, and if it weren’t for Taehyun’s arm wrapped around your waist, you’re sure you would’ve fallen against Beomgyu already— though moments after, when Taehyun chooses to grab a hold of your hips in order to guide you onto them, you’re doing exactly that. 

“Feels good?” Beomgyu asks, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, laughing cruelly at the drooly and fucked out mess you’ve turned into, barely able to mutter out a response from how good they’re fucking you, “Such a good girl— shit, ugh— always wanting to make us feel good, taking whatever we give her.”

“You have no idea how much we missed you,” Taehyun mutters against your skin, barely able to continue his sentence from the way you clench around them, your mixed arousals and the sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out your sounds, “Had us— ah… fucking bonding from how— ngh, how bad it was.”

The thought is enough to make you laugh— though you aren’t able to, not with the way they continue to fuck you roughly, your back arching from the way Taehyun’s clever hand begins to rub at your clit— you can only whine softly at the feeling, allowing them to toy with you however they’d like as Beomgyu sneaks a hand to play with your breasts. 

“Missed you— missed this,” Beomgyu rambles to himself, and you can feel the way his hips begin to stutter, losing their rhythm and affecting Taehyun in the process, “Just wanted to hear you cute little sounds again, my pretty girl.”

“Our pretty girl…” Taehyun corrects, though it’s only to tease as he feels you tighten around him— you’re close, he can tell, and it only fuels the two men to continue fucking you recklessly, “Can you cum for us, pretty? Wanna feel it, missed seeing you come on my cock, just give us one more, sweet thing—“

His words become foggy to your mind after that, but you can hear him guiding you the whole time you crash down, letting out a loud cry before Beomgyu’s cupping your face and guiding you to his lips, kissing you slowly and taking in your sounds as you practically drool against him— the kiss is messy and you’re barely able to process anything, feeling him bite your lips and run his tongue along your mouth teasingly before he laughs, pulling away to give you one last sweet kiss. 

“Want us to fill you up?” Beomgyu asks, his voice slightly tense as he continues to concentrate on not falling apart then and there; even through your foggy mind, you’re nodding eagerly, teary eyes affecting Beomgyu much more than he’d like to admit as he finally allows himself to cum inside you—you can hear Taehyun hiss softly at the feeling, triggering his own orgasm as the two men whimper at the feeling, unable to stop their cocks from rutting into you, sensitive from the way they continue to rub against each other inside.

You’re warm and filled to the point that it’s already begun to leak out— Taehyun swears that he’s never seen a better sight, and you’re burying your head into the crook of Beomgyu’s neck, mentally rolling your eyes at the way he pouts a soft no fair, I can’t see.

You don’t think you can bring yourself to move after that— lucky for you, you have two strong men to do your bidding— which is exactly why you’re able to find yourself in a warm bubble bath after a few minutes of rest, unable to stop yourself from marveling at the luxury of it all despite being with the two for— well, a year.

“I’m so happy to be back, seriously,” Beomgyu mutters, his head laying on your chest as you simply laugh, running your fingers through his hair fondly, “I don’t think I can be away from you for that long again.”

“Was it really that bad?” you ask softly, slightly embarrassed at how hoarse your voice is; they merely laugh fondly at you, and Taehyun’s arms circle around your waist before he’s pressing himself closer to you— you can feel him nod despite his forehead resting against your shoulder, and you merely roll your eyes at their theatrics, tilting your head back and resting your head against Taehyun’s shoulder, allowing him to slot his chin on your own, “Why don’t you just take me with you next time, hmm?”

“You’d like that?” Beomgyu immediately asks, titling his head back and looking at you with wide, sparkling eyes— you laugh, nodding softly as you watch him smile cutely in return, “You better not change your mind.”

“I won’t,” you muse, smiling at the way Taehyun places a soft kiss on your cheek, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Because despite your doubts, they’ve really proven just how much you mean to them— and as you feel them cuddle closer to you, allowing yourself to sink into the warm water that soothes your sore body, you can’t control the way your heart flutters from the mere way they hold you.

God, you’re down bad.

[lousirs]

UD headcanons no one asked for!

my motivation has gone to get the milk and has not come back since, SO HEY! who wants to hear some random headcanons that have been microwaving in my head for the past year???

this is going to be a long one...

stuff under the cut vvv

Lou is the kinda guy to only pack nice looking outfits on a holiday. Do they suit the occasion? Probably not. But he wants to look the part every where he goes, even if he's wearing a suit during the middle of summer

He would also be the guy to complain that it's too cold, even though he was told to pack up layers of clothes for a hiking trip, and didn't. But when someone tries to give him a coat, he says "I don't need that, I'm fine!" even though he looks like he's going to freeze over.

He takes the coat not too soon after

On the other hand, either Nolan or Ox would overpack for a trip. Ox because he is basically the fatherly figure of the group, and wants to make sure that everyone has enough food, water, and layers of clothing for the trip. Oh, and he brings a first aid kit as well. Nolan however does it because "What if I didn't pack enough?? What if I need this oddly specific thing??" and packs more than he needs to

Speaking of Ox, he always came off as a character who really enjoys camping and exploring, ya know? He seems like the leader of a scout group who loves to sing campfire songs and tell spooky stories that no one believes. (him and Rhidian would get along well)

LITERALLY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT LUCKYBAT AND OX'S DYNAMIC AND IT'S DRIVING ME WILD. Hello?? A withdrawn and somewhat jaded mayor who is protective of those he's close to with his intelligent, caring and concerned assistant?? That sounds interesting!

I'm sure LuckyBat knows more than anyone else (besides Lou) of what Ox went through. Perhaps he didn't know about the Institute, but he knew ox went through some stuff outside Uglyville. Perhaps that's why he's so cautious to go into the pipe.

(And perhaps the reason why he decides to go to learn new stuff was for the sake of finding out what Ox doesn't speak about?)

Back to the Prettydolls, I always found it interesting that Nolan was able to run the gauntlet despite being imperfect, although Moxy and Mandy, two other imperfect dolls, were thrown into recycling. Why was Nolan allowed to run the gauntlet, huh Lou? Didn't you say that any unideal looking doll goes to recycling, Lou????

Personally, I like to think that Lou allowed Nolan to do training and was like "Haha watch this idiot fail". And turns out Nolan was really good at it (flashbacks to Nolan being buff in the novel). Lou is flabbergasted.

...Either that or Lou just allowed him to run the gauntlet to watch him fail immediately because "Haha funny" and also "Haha imperfects can't win. Suck it loser~"

Kitty is jealous of Mandy's makeup skills, and often copies her because of it, too embarrassed to ask for advice because she needs to learn on her own. After Lou gets overthrown, Kitty and Mandy help each other out on their makeup and hair

Tuesday is the girl to think that "Yeah I'm smiling, but inside I'm crying" is the deepest thing to ever exist. Kitty bullies her for it.

Also, Tuesday cry-sings "I'm a mess" by Bebe Rexha after Lou denied her 1244th love confession. She will try again tomorrow

Because Kelly Clarkson was pop-rock for a while, I like to imagine that Moxy had a rock-n-roll rebellious phase, and still has a few characteristics from that era of her life

During the scene where Lou is going up the gauntlet lift with everyone else, he is constantly moving about. Winking at Mandy to fake confidence, adjusting his suit...etc. I always saw this has him being nervous, because you know, he's about to expose himself for being a prototype after this gauntlet stuff is over. So I like to think that he fiddles around with his suit when he's nervous. Mainly readjusting the sleeves, tightening his ascot tie and flicking out his collar. Also pulling out loose threads, if there is any.

I thought for the longest time that when Lou's hair got slightly messier, it showed him being more genuine. There is one god damn strand on his fringe that goes from being in place to hanging out, and I thought it showed him losing his façade, very very subtly.

This might be a hot take but I always saw Loundy (Mandy/Lou) as being friends/lovers to enemies. Think about it: Lou and Mandy seemed to have some sort of connection, Mandy (in my opinion) basically being Lou's assistant, similar to the spy girls. She began thinking he was perfect, and they formed a (seemingly) close bond. But over time, as Lou's desperation for perfection increased, her opinion of him soured, and she realised he isn't as perfect as she thought. She kept the negative thoughts to herself, though. Who would believe her? The perfect doll with the flawless looks and endless talents, topped off with a charming personality... Why would he be unhinged? How would he be unhinged?

You know that line Mandy says to Lou at the gauntlet? "You know, Lou.. When I first got here, I thought you were perfect. I couldn't find a single thing wrong with you. But, I can see a lot better now." perhaps that wasn't just talking about the events of the film, as it probably implies. Maybe she knows how terrible he's been for a long time...

That's all I got for now, I may doodle some of these if motivation comes back, who knows..

[replicabetweenblogs]

19/1/25 CHAPTER 9 RELEASE.

5 endings at 3 different locations you can end up as your companions all split into different sides.. getting lost. Metaphorically or quite literally? What decisions have you made in the past to either bring chaos or calm into your so-called hideout..? Who will celebrate to see the long-awaited dawn, who will weep at the rising insanity of the leader carving down a bloody road to victory, and what painful truths will you finally discover?Where will you end up, who will you save, and who will you be in chapter 9?

133 303 words in total for ALL branches!

Between the 18k and 21k for a single playthrough!

Romance lock-in scenes for Ash and Ha!! Although they are locked behind one of the three exploration branches.

Specialize in your essence! If you are strong enough and are within the right branch for it, you can pick one of the few elements to focus on and develop your essence further.

Death

Angst

Depression

Screaming and crying people all around

Lily with a lighter

"Who gave Ha a gun?"

Two new annoying little brats to look after

The chapter is split between three different greater exploration areas, and you can end up depending on various variables and choices. Only one path contains all the companions while the other two may differ depending on decisions made.

~~ Updated dashingdon link (will be removed by the end of the month)

~~ NEW cogdemos.ink link

~~ Discuss the chapter on the forums!

~~ Coffee on Kofi!

~~Help me improve the chapter!!!

That. Was an unbelievably long road. This chapter is easily the most branchy one. A few WIP scenes are locked, but they are nothing big and I may still decide to scrap those before the chapter gets too overwhelmingly brancy. Aside of that, some more balancing I might have to do still regarding personality traits and stats, but I want to delve deeper into that once I've got more results in on my online feedback form, so right now you may not really notice alotta stat changes throughout chapter 9. But yes. Here it is!!

I really hope the returning readers of RBU will enjoy this one. It's an 130k word long apology letter for the hiatus!! Go and give Ha or Ash a kiss or two, play catch with a fireball with Lily, question your entire reality with Amethyst, and connect some dots regarding the final revelation. Again, I thank anyone who has been around here with me since the start and all the new readers I've been able to tell my story to (and who managed to get through the messy first few chapters). I really hope the long wait was worth this all.

Feel free to report bugs in the forum thread c: and I shall try and fix them asap. Also whenever you suspect of the game pushing you into the wrong branch by checking the wrong variables, or if you see any typos and misgendering.

The ASK box is open! For questions, guides, character asks and etc.

Have fun c: I am hoping to keep this flow going for chapter 10 as well, seeing as the end of RBU is nearing and 10 won't be a very long one. Here is hoping I may actually reach the epilogue before I slip back into a 50 year long hiatus <3

[feinv]

can i kindly req for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader.... pov he is just so so so in live with her...

arthur morgan x hyperfem!reader.

a/n. introducing my other hyperfixation on this blog. hope this won’t flop. if you don’t wanna see this you can block these tags! hope you like this dolly <3

arthur morgan is a romantic.

spending the majority of his life being without a significant other, he kept repressing all those emotions. and repressing just made them stronger.

but lucky for him he has you!

he doesn’t understand why a sweet thing like you would even look at his direction. but you did. and he wasn’t a fool to let you go after that. he absolutely gives you princess treatment. will do like. literally anything just to see you smile.

arthur loves taking you to beautiful places he encountered while riding around. seeing your eyes sparkle and that pretty smile you flush him is enough for him to die a happy man right there next to you.

he is absolutely feral at how adorable you look. like all the time. we all know 1800s underwears were like just a plain white fabric. but you still managed to stitch them up in a certain way and add a few small bows to make them look cuter! he is honestly so amazed that nothing ever stops you from doing your girly things, and he is always there to tell you that you did a good job and it looks perfect <3

he loves showing you off, especially when he knows he has the pleasure of calling you his. he will do any dirty job and hard labor just to get money and buy you anything you want.

he knows it's hard feeling beautiful when you have limited resources in a camp. so he would buy you whatever clothes you want, whatever jewelry and accessories you look at for more than five seconds when he takes you to a town. (he might even steal some really expensive ones and tell you he traded for those)

of course he would think you look gorgeous even if your entire face was covered in dirt and mud. but it matters to him that you feel happy and confident in yourself. and it's his mission to fulfill that goal for as long as he alive.

every time he would bring back a little something that reminded him of you — a book, a small painting, perfumes that smell just like you, and everything else in between.

he would help you with chores however he can just to ease some of your work and have more alone time together. the boys would tease him for being "a housewife," but he wouldn't give a shit. he might as well do every single of your chores if it meant he would have you all to himself in the confines of his tent.

showers you in compliments. all day 24/7. he knows the words will eventually fail him because he physically cannot tell u how infatuated he is with you and how flawless you are to him. but he will try either way.

“you are so beautiful, darlin'. my pretty girl,” while his fingers gently tuck hair away from your face, his thumb soothing your soft skin. and you would blush and avert his gaze because like :< but he would simply pepper feather light kisses all over your face before connecting your lips in such a tender kiss you would forget that’s a 6 feet tall ripped cowboy.

his side bag and some of his clothes in general would have small hearts or bows engraved in them with pink thread. every time he looks at them he gets reminded there is someone waiting for him to come back. and his heart just swells at that thought.

would also sneak you away from the camp to a pretty field where the two of you could just stargaze together or lay on the grass for hours. you would ramble about your day while he sketches you, your sweet voice literally making him float in the clouds.

arthur morgan loves being around you, being with you. you don't even have to be doing anything together, he just loves having you near him, close and safe :3

©️feinv, 2024.

[thefirstknife]

Besties, I need help. Especially people who have a lot of reach on twitter.

Two of my friends had their Destiny names forcibly changed at the roughly the same time. Their Destiny names were "bisexual mara sov" and "trans king oryx." They just logged in and got a pop-up saying that for some "crossplay" reasons their names were changed to a default Guardian####. None of them are using crossplay. Both are on Steam only, if that's important.

One of them posted to Bungie forums and got this reply:

Both of my friends suspect that they were mass reported. Obviously falsely. Their names are not breaking any rules and are in fact canonical statements about the characters. They always play together so if some homophobe sees them, they would report both, so it would make sense why this happened to them at the same time, possibly (the other option is that there was a wave of forced name changes happening recently that caught them both, but for all intents and purposes, their names should not be subject to change).

This upset both of my friends quite a lot. It means there's enough homophobes out there falsely reporting their names. It's also upsetting to think that these reports were reviewed and then accepted. I genuinely don't think there was a manual review. If there was, I think everyone would like to know which rules this is breaking and why.

Another friend tried raising this issue on the official Destiny 2 reddit, but his thread was not approved by moderators because of "politics":

Thanks reddit! /s My friend also messaged the moderators, but to no avail.

The only thing that remains is trying to raise this issue with the community managers somehow, but clearly this isn't possible on reddit, so we want to try twitter. Unfortunately with the way twitter works, unless you have the reach, nobody will see it. One other friend literally made a twitter account for this to tag the Destiny 2 Team, but as expected her attempt has zero visibility. These are her two tweets. I'm not sure what would be better; to just boost this existing tweet or to make new tweets tagging Destiny 2 Team, but if anyone knows and thinks they could help, feel free to do either!

I don't expect much to happen, but I would like to at least try bringing some awareness to this because it's quite upsetting if homophobes can just mass report a completely innocent name, while absolutely gross names are allowed and visible every day in the game. It's also not a good look if these mass reports are acted on without review, and they are worse if they were acted on WITH review.

A lot of people have usernames that are about in-game characters; I think a lot of us would like to get some information on why these aren't allowed anymore. Both of my friends have had them for years.

Anyway, if anyone knows something they could do or has the ability to get this visible somehow, it would be appreciated!

[creature-wizard]

Closet Witchcraft: How To Get Witchy When You Can't Come Out Of The Broom Closet

Some basic/general tips for being a closet witch. (If you are in a severely abusive household, be sure to scroll down to the end.)

Cultivate some skills

Many skills can be put to witchy purposes if you're determined. Consider gardening, cooking, sewing, crochet, scrapbooking, painting, drawing, calligraphy, woodworking, carving, or literally any craft skill you can start practicing. If you knit a scarf with colors chosen for their magical symbolism or make a little owl sculpture as a charm to help you retain knowledge, nobody but you has to know.

Study and learn about nature

Start learning about plants, animals, geology, ecology, or whatever catches your interest. Get into the habit of observing nature wherever you are, and observing how humans and nature interact and affect each other.

Use everyday items where you can

You can practice divination with poker cards or dice, and your phone can serve as a scrying mirror. You can use a pendant or metal washer for pendulum divination.

As for cleansing, a literal wash in water is fine for any object that won't get damaged. You can use literally any cleaning tool or method with magical intent.

You can use your fingers in place of prayer beads, using either whole fingers or individual knuckles.

You can also use your fingers to trace symbols and runes on stuff.

You can represent your deities using art or knickknacks representing their symbols, like a small cat statue for Bast.

On keeping witchy literature (grimoires, Books of Shadows, printed books, etc.)

Keeping an online grimoire/BOS and getting witchy books in ebook format is often a good option.

Certain methods of practice can also reduce the amount of literature you need to keep on hand. (For example, learning correspondence through observation, using this model of deity/entity work, or practicing energy work.)

If no one is likely to go through your things, keeping your grimoire/BOS in a plain three-ring binder may be enough to avoid detection. (Camouflage is a great friend when hiding things.)

More on hiding things

So you might want something a little fancy, like a tarot deck or a more witchy-looking piece of decor.

If people aren't likely to go through your stuff or come in without knocking, you can keep a lot of things in a drawer or small storage box when you have to. Simple padlocks will be enough to keep small children and the typical casual guest out of your things.

To hide small objects, you can also get an opaque vase and fake flowers, put your witchy stuff in the bottom of the vase, and put the flowers on top.

You can also place a toilet paper tube inside a glass jar and fill it with something like small rocks, seashells, beads, buttons, or candies. (There's a tutorial for this kind of here. Though you won't need to wrap the toilet paper tube in wrapping paper, of course.)

If the jar is higher than the tube, you can glue a circle of cardboard to the bottom of the tube so you can rest it on top a layer of your filling so that it comes up to the jar's mouth.

If you want to use something like a sauce jar and want to take the label off completely, remember that oil will dissolve the adhesive.

Stuffed animals can be turned into hiding spaces. There are many tutorials out there for this.

Pieces of paper can be slipped into books. Thus you can conceal witchy reference sheets.

If you are in a seriously unhealthy situation

I wrote the above with people who don't live in severely abusive homes in mind. Like maybe the people you live with would flip out if they discovered that you're practicing witchcraft and maybe then you might be in danger, but they aren't likely to go snooping through all of your stuff and aren't going to hurt you because you breathed wrong. If you do live in a highly abusive household, I recommend checking out my post "I'm in a bad place and need to get out, what can I do?" and checking out this thread of abusive home survival tips. (These aren't witchcraft resources - they're resources to help you survive and escape.)

[docholligay]

sounds like you successfully argued to have migrants put in PRISON instead of the equivalent of a hurricane/emergency evac center :/

So i had a whole, really cutting takedown of this statement, and, in general, the smattering of bad faith engagement I've had with a post that went far beyond my usual reach so wasn't written with as many protections against folks looking for a crack in the wall.

But being mean to someone, who, in any case only believes what they are saying so far as they can be anonymous while doing it, isn't helpful. It doesn't inform you any better, it doesn't inform anyone of how to go about this stuff, it just makes feel good that I, what? Made someone on tumblr look silly? Everyone claps? Jesus Christ what a waste of life.

So, let me tell you what actually was successfully argued. What was argued was that the one place in the state that had been offered up by the politicians was rejected by its people. There may be one someday, but not here and not today.

The prison that guy mentioned? (It was not me, but you'd be forgiven for thinking it--this went around with an INSANELY, fox newsbite level, bad faith crop that made me immediately regret not editing better) It's not owned by the state. I went and looked it up later. It's owned by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Supposedly they are running it for their own use. It's gonna be a lot harder to get them to use that.

What we successfully argued, is delaying the implementation of anything. Delaying is a huge part of resistance. Every headache you give people, every hour you cost them, is a win. We cannot afford to wait for utopia, and perfection, and a savior. Some of our greatest weapons in life are delaying, and feigned incompetence, and picking at threads. Especially if you live in a red area, sometimes you gotta go, "Oh sure, yeah, but you know, not THERE, and...no, not there either, cause of X, and, man, Y is almost a perfect place but I just can't sign off on it because..." you see what I'm saying? Oskar Schindler was arguing he needed Jewish children to polish the insides of gun barrels.

The other thing that was argued, is when the commissioner said, 'We'll bend over backward to accommodate your orders," we said, "No we won't." And that goes much further than any site. It sends a small message, that, even in a red part of a red state, not everyone is falling into line. This is why action matters.

I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, and my work in political arenas is not either. But, I have been doing stuff in political arenas since Obama, and, I have always worked here, in this very complicated place. I am an extremely pragmatic worker. I do what works. I don't care much about the appearance of goodness. Sometimes delaying a project is what it takes. Sometimes, in life, you lose anyway. But that doesn't make the delaying worthless. I have lost a lot of fights, and I am going to be set up to lose a lot more. But, today? An offer had to be withdrawn. And that's something.

I hope you come back, and reread both the post and this response, and, even if you disagree with me, have a different perspective on how political action can be approached. More than that, I want it to give you hope that even small, imperfect actions matter. The perfect is the enemy of the good. And the good is the enemy of the literally accomplished.

[kantocamping]

Kichijiro. He/Him. 40s. Experienced pokemon trainer and studying ornithologist. Currently making a living selling/trading pokemon professionally; please inquire if you're looking for a pokemon native to Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, or Sinnoh.

I don't do competitive battling anymore, but I did in the past (non-circuit) so I may speak on the subject now and again. I'm also living in an RV for work purposes (no, I don't need help, I'm not homeless, I could buy a house if I wanted) and will likely also post about that from time to time. I don't care if you find it boring.

Please ask me about ornithology and my current research projects in Kantonian farfetch'd and its possible evolution.

My current team consists of pidgeot, noctowl, psyduck, delibird, farfetch'd, and rowlet. Feel free to ask about them as well.

// ooc

hiiii <3 my name is kristopher!! he/him + 22 :] i'm an enviro science/agriculture student, avid birder, and passionate hiker + camper!! please keep in mind that i'm a white american trying to portray a japanese man as best i can; feel free to let me know if i get anything wrong or do anything insensitive!!

i also run @pikachuwanted (meowth)

the pokemon lore i go with is based on a mixture of the games, anime, and comics, alongside my own headcanons that i've come up with over the years!! i'm totally okay with people interacting who have differing and even totally contradicting hcs to my own!! it's all in good fun.

that said, generally some baseline 'rules' (and i use the word loosely) that'll likely come up often enough i go with are:

pokemon are typically more intelligent than real animals and are treated as such. they have an understanding of human concepts that real animals don't, and can even communicate now and again. however, even humanoid pokemon still have animalistic behaviors, since they're not humans.

while multiple universes do exist, kichijiro is generally unaware of and skeptical about this concept. most direct references to this will be glossed over and not taken seriously by him. i generally just don't really like storylines like this and probably won't engage in them.

legendary pokemon are provably real, but rarely seen, and never documented as being captured by trainers. i won't ignore characters that have legendaries, but this won't be referenced outside of direct interactions! pseudo-legendaries are just considered to be very rare.

please keep the following in mind when interacting with me!

content warning: this blog may at any time contain themes of smoking, drinking, alcoholism/drug use, suicidal thoughts, pokemon death/abuse, veterinary practices, organized crime, guns, and non-canon typical violence. bolded topics will always be tagged! please let me know if you want anything else to specifically be tagged.

pelipper mail is on, but please don't go crazy with it, i'll just ignore it if i don't know what to say or think it's not going to be fun for me. magic anons are off.

fallers and sentient pokemon are fine to interact, but i'd rather not interact with eebies specifically

i'm totally down to write literate threads if anyone wants! i love long-form writing and am more than happy to plot something out. all of these will either be on discord or @finefeatheredfoes

kichijiro is not a nice man! he's trying to be better, but he's a generally rude person who's done a lot of bad things in his life and has been in rough circles for over 20 years. he might be mean, but this doesn't reflect my thoughts on you/your character at all!! if this upsets you, please just let me know.

related, but if you have ANY issues with me please please PLEASE bring them up to me in dms!!! i'm always willing to talk things out, and i'll never freak out on you or whatever :]

[strawhatbougie]

A thread of my zosan fics thus far that nobody asked for:

(All rated E)

Tongue Like a Knife (Or in This Case, A Sword)

"While the deep and dangerous voice of Pirate Hunter Zoro has made probably hundreds cower in fear, it made Sanji inexplicably and undeniably turned on. A horrifying realization that had him waving his own internal white flag time and time again before his knees gave out from embarrassment (or arousal, but he’d rather die than admit that)."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56562154

Kissgate

Nami starts a rather calculated game of truth or dare to get Zoro and Sanji to realize their pent-up sexual frustration--and hopefully relieve their friend group of the constant petty arguing.

What Nami didn't factor in was how wrong she'd be to think what follows would be any better.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57011413/chapters/144984268

Those Damn Fingers

The usual suspects either busy or unwilling to help, Zoro enlists Franky and Luffy to help pick out a shirt for his first date with Sanji. Zoro's canonically 110cm chest ensues.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57644626/chapters/146687353

The Knight Shift

Sanji was a royal failure. Literally.

Deemed beyond redemption for being the only Vinsmoke with humility, Sanji is appointed a personal knight to keep him under surveillance. That position soon becomes a revolving door of noblemen when the young prince decides to force them into reassignment by being as intolerable as possible. The first two folded quickly, Sanji believing that one more would disappoint his father enough to retire the position entirely.

Unfortunately for the third prince of Germa, three was this knight’s lucky number.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57980884/chapters/147604246

Kiss Me Thru the Snail

Sanji looks at his own snail, and wonders if it dreams of being set free in the lush greenery of Kambakka Kingdom. Maybe he could set it on his windowsill and let it slither out into the night, Zoro’s idiotic goading slowly but surely being lost to the trees.

For if a marimo speaks in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it even make a sound? 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58384315

Lost in Translation

His tone lowers, frustration curdling every word. “You wanna take this outside?”

Zoro’s half-hard dick twitches under his haori. “Right now?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58680220

Couldn't Care Less

Zoro didn’t care.

Unbothered. Unconcerned. Indifferent. Nonchalant.

Zoro couldn’t give less of a shit that Sanji was gone.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58726597

Slip of the Tongue

Sanji had to admit, though, it was getting more and more difficult during times when islands were few and far between. It left him even more sensitive and riled up when Zoro did get his hands on him. In combination with Zoro’s Three Kink Style: Moaning Cook technique—where the swordsman does exactly what he’s fucking doing right now, crooning dulcet encouragement and ‘baby's in his ear—there wasn’t anything Sanji wouldn’t do to get that oaf’s stupidly big cock in or around him.

Including embarrassing the ever-loving shit out of himself, apparently. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59061058

The Bet

The mosshead became in charge of planning their next date.

Sanji should’ve seen this coming. Standing here now in their bedroom, knowing Zoro even better than he knew himself, it comes as no surprise.

Did he pick a nice place to eat? Maybe a fun new activity that they can become overly competitive about?

Of course not.

No, Zoro takes the one filthy desire that Sanji accidentally hinted at on a whim and fucking runs with it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59233723

Man Spreader

Sanji was sure he heard the idiot incorrectly. It was the only possibility.

“Gross, dude—TMI,” Usopp grimaces.

“What do you mean? I spread men all of the time!” Zoro shoots back with an indignant scowl.

Okay, then Sanji heard him perfectly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59003473/chapters/150417478#workskin

Plated

“Which one is this?” Zoro asks, peering down at his plate. He sounds almost bored, like he’s speaking to someone—something—not even worth his time. Something that’s only there to elicit a response so he can properly enjoy his meal.

Rule three: only speak when prompted.

“Hamachi,” Sanji replies.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59438275

The Holidate

“Besides, it’s not like it’s anything serious—he's just my holidate, darling.”

That’s right—his holidate. How could Sanji forget.

Aunt Iva’s self-proclaimed tradition for every holiday on the calendar: find some random to drag along to that day’s function for the sole purpose of not spending it alone. As soon as the occasion was over, he never spoke of or to them again. An easy one-off plus one to ward off unwanted feelings and unwelcome probing questions from friends and family.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61626403