#my november reading list will be up in a couple of days

[apricitystudies]

the last fun thing i'm doing before i start my internship next monday is getting korean bbq with my sister and cousin tonight <3 in other news, my results came out recently and i'm pleased to announce that this semester was my strongest semester yet!!

[chevroletdean]

spanking [sam winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024 ship: sam x afab!fem!reader genre: smut to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, vague descriptions of the reader, established relationship, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, spanking as the title suggests ofc word count: 2.4k a/n: happy belated october, i guess. it was a busy month for me, but i wanted to at least finish the prompts i've put up on the list, even if it takes me into november!

You’re not even entirely sure how you ended up in this position.

Sam’s been awfully quiet, all day. If you didn’t know it any better, you’d say your boyfriend is in a bad mood. But his demeanor today is not so much glooming as it is brooding. He’s pensive, if anything. Focused.

The lead you two have been following is a complicated one. You’ve spent a good week on this case already and with each dead end, the frustration level increased. Sam and you are a good team, smart thinking and hard working.

But this is where you come to a parting of ways regarding hunting styles.

You know you’ll go crazy if you have to read one more word. You need a break, if only for a thirty minute nap. Or, judging by the soft growl of your stomach, maybe some food. Anything but more of this digging into a nothing-burger, pun intended. Sam on the other hand is too stubborn when it comes to this part of hunting; he’s not satisfied until he finds a clue.

You’d jokingly call him a nerd, were it not for the fact that you cherish this hard-working attitude of his. Good for him, but as for yourself, you’re definitely done for today.

“I’m beat, Sammy,” you groan and toss your laptop aside. “I can’t even look at another article anymore. The words are literally blurring before my eyes and you wanna know what they’re starting to spell out for me?”

French fries, burgers and chicken nuggets are the words floating around before your inner eye. If you mentally squint, you might see a chocolate milkshake thrown in there.

You wait for Sam to make a guess.

No response.

When you look over to your boyfriend, he’s right next to you – although you half expected to see an empty spot with how silent the room has been for the last couple of hours. He’s seated on his side of the bed still, back straight against the headboard, a heavy book in his lap. His eyes are glued to the pages and his brows are knitted tightly together in deep concentration.

He had a habit of using bookmarks, but keeping it lodged in the last spot until he’d put the book away again. You see it peeking out from somewhere in the middle and estimate that he’s flipped about fifty pages ahead already. He’s only started reading this book this morning. 

You pout and nudge Sam’s side in a desperate attempt for some of his attention.

The only response you get then is an unenthusiastic: “Hm?” Even then he doesn’t bother peeling his eyes off the book.

You know you have to test him.

“They’re spelling: Aw, shucks, I forgot to put on a pair of panties tonight and all I can think about is Sam’s hands between my thighs, making me cum on his fingers,” you ramble dryly, carefully gouging out his reaction. Which is non-existent basically, disappointingly but unsurprisingly.

He doesn’t even stir at your lewd words. Then again, you know how difficult it is to distract him when he’s locked down into research-mode; from experience. He’s clearly not listening and considering the nature of your teasing words (and your own cranky state), you take offense to the fact that he’s prioritizing the stupid lore over his girlfriend right now.

You nudge him again, harder this time and he finally protests quietly as you smack his shoulder.

“What was that for?,” Sam huffs and at last he meets your gaze.

“Were you even listening?”

With another sigh, Sam closes the book in his lap at last, after sliding the bookmark between the pages. “Sorry, what was that?”

Your pout turns into a frown and you roll your eyes as if to silently say ‘Nope, it’s too late now.’ Instead, you cross your arms in front of your chest. “I need a break,” you summarize within an exasperated sigh. “Let’s grab something to eat, c’mon.”

“Actually,” Sam starts and you already know you don’t like where this is going. “I think I’m onto something here, but there’s some more of that salad bowl in the fridge, if you wanna take that.”

Scoffing, you climb out of bed and head out of the room. Your steps are bordering on stomping and it is only in the last second that you decide slamming the door behind you would be a tad too much. Part of you admires Sam for his diligence, but you’re also absolutely baffled that he can’t take a hint.

A break wouldn’t hurt him either and you honestly crave some quality time with your boyfriend instead of being stuck doing research with just a hunting buddy. Lately, it all feels way too distant, thanks to this stupid case.

Besides, a salad? You secretly hope there‘s something with a little more cholesterol in the kitchen, but as you open the fridge it’s practically empty. Sam and you have prepared a giant salad bowl for lunch earlier today, the leftovers of which don‘t exactly suit your current cravings, but they will have to suffice for now.

You know it would taste a whole lot better if Sam would be having dinner with you, but alas, you are eating by yourself. Once you’re finished, you don’t even bother to properly clean up. Although no longer starving, you’re still grumpy. Rightfully so, you decide when you enter your shared room again to find Sam in the exact same spot you left him. Seriously, he hasn’t even budged a little.

Another sigh leaves your lungs, “You’re still reading? Find anything yet?”

“Nothing.”

Another ten pages or so, you guess from the space between the bookmark and his thumb. He’s read another ten pages in the time you’ve somewhat filled your belly with vegetables – and he’s still not done.

Rolling your eyes, you allow yourself to fall back into bed, shoving your laptop aside purposefully. You might not be hangry anymore, but you’re still cranky and frankly, touch-starved. Some attention from your boyfriend really shouldn’t be too much to ask for, after all.

However, your decision to scoot closer to Sam isn’t exactly rewarded with any enthusiasm. Even as you wrap your arm around his middle and mumble something about an after-dinner nap, Sam’s persistent on ignoring you. Even if it’s not on purpose, the rejection makes you feel rather neglected.

Beyond annoyed by his dismissal, you firmly nudge Sam’s arm up and drape yourself over his lap, replacing the book on his thighs with your head.

“Sweetheart-,” Sam groans, but thanks to your actions, the book slips out of his hands. “Do you mind?”

You muster a pout in his direction and watch as he flips through the book, trying to find the last page he was on. “Sorry,” you mumble, “for wanting to cuddle a little with my boyfriend.”

Sam’s counter-argument, whatever it was, dies on his tongue as he sees your frustrated scowl. “Fine, okay,” he mutters and shifts a little, adjusting your position so you’re comfortably lying across his lap. “Just this chapter, alright?”

Your counter-argument, whatever it was, is forgotten the second he combs his long fingers through your hair. You relax, laid down on your stomach across his lap and he places the book on your back, as if to hold you in place there. It’s better than nothing and you’re somewhat happy that he at least remembered his ability to multitask.

Needless to say, though, it’s far from enough – so can he really blame you when you squirm around restlessly?

After a couple of minutes, his free hand switches from patting your head to settling on your lower back. He traces the dip of it, running his palm across the curve of your ass before letting it rest on the back of your thighs. His thumb mindlessly strokes your inner thigh, making you arch into the touch.

“Sammy–,” you whine.

He gives your leg a warning squeeze and your breath hitches. The message is clear: He doesn’t want you to move a muscle, not even your tongue.

“This would be going way faster if a certain someone didn’t make me drop the book earlier,” he scolds, albeit his tone doesn’t hold much of an edge to it. It’s taunting enough for you to understand he’s playfully punishing you without holding any real resentment.

“But I–”

Smack.

You gasp as his palm lands on your rear in a quick motion. The sound echoes off the walls. The sting isn’t as painful as it is surprising. Instinctively, your back arches.

Sam’s voice is lowered, husky and stern, “You know how many pages you’ve made me reread?”

Before you can reply, he slaps your ass for the second time and instead of a coherent response, another yelp falls from your lips.

“Twelve,” Sam continues and gently but firmly presses the spine of his book onto the spine of your back, applying just enough pressure to keep you in place.

Against your better judgment you call him out on his bluff with a gruff, “If you know where you left off, then why are you rereading the–?”

Another slap interrupts your words, this one harder than the previous two. You whimper softly and feel heat creeping up your neck and down your core. Clearly Sam doesn’t appreciate you talking back, although his large hand smoothes over the fabric of your jeans in an almost apologetic manner.

“Don’t get smart with me, baby,” he scolds, flips to the next page, and pats your ass again, lighter this time. “Eight more to go, think you can keep count?”

You blush and nod, coyly, which only earns you yet another smack down your ass.

“Words, princess,” Sam reminds you.

“Yes,” you sob softly. “S-seven more to go.”

Seemingly satisfied, Sam’s fingers dance down to the apex of your thighs, soothingly massaging your tender flesh through the thick denim. “Good girl,” he hums.

Your fingers curl into fists around the bed sheets as you feel Sam’s hand wander around your hip and towards the front of your pants. With practiced ease he unbuttons them, before tugging the fabric down. Your breath hitches in your throat as he yanks the waistband over your butt, down to your mid-thighs.

As the chill air hits your bare skin, a shudder runs down your spine.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Sam rasps. “You weren’t lying about not wearing any panties, huh?”

Squeezing your thighs together, you flush in embarrassment. So he was listening to you after all? Bastard was just waiting to use it against you at the perfect time!

Sam’s hand travels between your legs and you stiffen as you feel his fingertips ghost across your folds, as if he intends to flip them like the pages. The soft rustling of paper above you confirms your suspicions that he’s still occupied with the book, speaking of. As he flips the page again, his palm connects to your bare skin once more.

You cry out softly and shakily, your head dropping low as you struggle to stay still.

A deep chuckle reverberates above you, “What’s wrong, forgot your numbers?”

Flip.

Smack!

“Six, five!,” you whimper, continuing to count down.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?,” Sam placates, letting his fingers slip between your thighs again. “This is what you wanted, no? My hands all over you? How’d you phrase it again?”

His fingers glide through your soft heat, which is already slick with arousal. You moan when his index and middle finger reach your clit to circle it slowly. Another whimper is all you can manage as you buck your hips, desperate for more friction.

“Making you cum all over my fingers, was it?” Sam whispers.

His digits tease your hole, only to withdraw a second later.

“I asked you a question,” he sighs, feigning a thinning patience. “Can’t even remember her own words, but is desperate enough to try and distract and tease me, so naughty.”

“Y-yes,” you answer. “Was talking ‘bout how I want you t’make me cum on your fingers.”

Flip. Smack!

You fail to stifle your sobbing. Your skin feels raw and you can only guess how reddened it is in color by the ache his touch causes afterwards. He always runs a soothing hand across the spot he just hit, but all it does is solidify the tingling sensation.

“Let’s see if I can help you with that,” Sam muses, pretending to be only half-interested. “After… how many pages again?”

“Four,” you say through gritted teeth, fully aware of his little game here.

“Right, four more pages,” Sam echoes and rewardingly squeezes your thigh again. The burn on your ass remains untouched for now, as does the ache of your soaking pussy. “Be a good girl and let me finish them, hm?”

He takes his time as he does and you’re left to wait in his lap, unable to move much. The only indication of what’s coming is the familiar sound of paper rustling, followed by him spanking you again. Four turns into three, into a two, and the agonizing one.

By the time he’s reached the last page, your head feels light and heavy all at once. You’re dizzy and sore, an uncomfortable numbness spreading down your bottom.

“Sammy,” you whine impatiently.

“Shh,” he shushes and briefly kneads your tender flesh. “Don’t make me start over.”

That’s enough to shut you up, but you’re still panting breathlessly in his lap, silently waiting for him to put the book aside.

Finally, he flips to the last page. You bite your tongue, that pretty round ass of yours arching up as if you were trying to get his hands on you more than he was. Fully prepared to feel his palm again, the word ‘Zero’ lingers on the tip of your tongue.

The impact never comes.

Instead, Sam places the bookmark between the pages, closes it and places it aside. Confused, you try to sit up, but he nudges you back down by the hips, pinning you to his lap. He shoves his other hand down your legs, thrusting a finger right into your soppy cunt.

“Time to reward my girl for being so patient,” Sam purrs. He adds another finger, pumping both in and out of you while his thumb finds your sensitive clit. “No cumming before I say zero, got it?”

The sound that escapes your lungs is half moan half protesting sob and fully incohesive response, “Please.”

“So clingy and needy for me,” Sam teases, curling his fingers inside you to hit the spongy spot within you. “You’ve held on ‘till now, what’s another countdown from twelve?”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a book emoji 📚 to be added to the sam x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

@s7nburn @figurantedefilme

[spidermaninlove]

Are TZ Married?

I spot a yellow-diamond ring (at least five carats, maybe six), from Bulgari. “This is my splurge, my treat-myself,” she smiles. “I do get a little employee discount,” she laughs shyly. “It feels like it’s gonna be an heirloom, like one day I can give it to my grandchildren.”  -- Zendaya for British Vogue, October 2021 (Interview conducted on July 1, 2021).

According to a Bulgari representative, Z's yellow diamond ring is an "engagement ring."

Rewind to November 2017 when Z posted this to her Snapchat account:

Then she immediately followed up with this Snapchat post:

Z's fondness for yellow diamond engagement rings obviously predates 2021. So did she or didn't she buy the Bulgari yellow diamond engagement ring for herself? That is the question. After reading the following statement in her interview in the October 2021 issue of British Vogue, I have serious doubts.

In February 2021, when asked during an interview if Tom would settle down now, he said he would do. x Five months later, on July 2, 2021, Page Six confirmed Tom and Zendaya were a couple.

But Z preferred to keep her dating status private during her interview on July 1, 2021 with British Vogue -- the same day the paparazzi photographed them kissing:

...dating her IRL is, she insists, a tall order. The list of approvals is long – “my dad, my brothers, it’s a whole thing. Good luck to whoever wants to take that on,” she scoffs. Perhaps her Spider-Man co-star Tom Holland, who has long been rumoured to be her boyfriend, is up to the task? After all, the following day (July 2, 2021), photos appear of the pair kissing in a car after our lunch (on July 1, 2021)."

August 2021

TZ attended their friends' wedding in August 2021. While at the wedding reception, Z did not participate in the traditional bridal bouquet toss. She watched the toss from their nearby table and then shared a kiss with Tom after the bouquet was caught. x

On September 1, 2021, TZ finally acknowledged they are a couple via Tom's Instagram post.

In November 2021, Tom told GQ that he and Z will talk about their story and what it is when they're ready.

"This isn’t my story. It’s our story. And we’ll talk about what it is when we’re ready to talk about it together.”

In June 2023, during an interview with BuzzFeed, Tom said, "I'm locked up, so I'm happy and in love..." x

In July 2023, during a podcast with Jay Shetty, Tom stated, "My relationship is the thing I keep most sacred. I don't talk about it. I try my best to keep it as private as possible. We both feel very strongly that that is the healthiest way for us to move on as a couple." x

September 2023

Miss Nicaragua allegedly shared during a live that she had met TZ in Oakland and that she hopes Zendaya's marriage goes well (post blogged on September 18, 2023). Note: TZ were in Oakland August 25-26, 2023.

Three days later, on September 21, 2023, Darnell went live on Instagram to adamantly deny Zendaya is engaged.

If she's not engaged, is she married? 🤫

October 2023

Law and Darnell were on the bridal floor in Vera Wang's store in Beverly Hills on October 13, 2023. I believe it's safe to assume Z was there as well.

February 2024

During a BBC Radio 2 interview, Z stated that British people are her family now.

April 2024

In a Vogue article dated April 9, 2024, Z described her perfect future which includes a protected life with her family.

Speaking of a protected family life, TZ recently adopted a dog named Daphne from Protection Dogs Worldwide.

And speaking of dogs, Z left her beloved Noon with Tom in London while she went to California. Tom even took Noon to work at the Duke of York's Theatre several times while Z was far from home (pun intended) for a couple weeks during the months of June and July 2024.

Note: Tom recently posted Noon, along with Daphne, on his Instagram account. x

October 2024

In October 2024, Tom launched his non-alcoholic beer, BERO. One of the three BERO brews, Noon Wheat, is named after "Tom and Zendaya's dog, Noon" and the "cofounder's (Tom) dog, Noon". So Noon is no longer just Z's dog. Noon is TZ's dog. Noon is Tom's dog, too. Noon is their dog.

Tom considers himself Noon's dad. Both Tom and BERO posted for Noon's birthday calling him "My birthday boy" and "Tom's furry child," respectively.

November 2024

Noon is called one of "the most loved members of the Holland family..." on The Brothers Trust Instagram post.

April 2024

An Atlanta paparazzi posted this to his Instagram account and then deleted it.

And then he posted and deleted this the following week:

February & April 2024

Dom Holland attended Z's London premieres for both Dune 2 (February) and Challengers (April). Is this considered father-in-law behavior?

May 2024

According to Ashley Perez, her notary instructor "insinuated" TZ may have gotten a confidential (non-public) marriage license.

Note: Ashley attends a college near the Bay Area.

California Confidential Marriage License Requirements:

The participating parties must be at least 18 years old to apply for a confidential marriage license. ✅

There are no CA state or US residency requirements.  ✅

The couple must state to the notary or county clerk office that they have been living together, as husband and wife or partners ✅ - not as roommates - at the time they apply for the marriage license, and must sign an affidavit on the license attesting to living together. There is no time requirement as to how long the couple has lived together.

You are not required to get married in the county where you purchase the confidential marriage license; however, you must be married in California.  You must file the license in the county where it was purchased.  

No witnesses are required to be at the ceremony, AND no witnesses sign on the marriage license.

The marriage license is a confidential record and is registered at the County Clerk’s Office in the county where it was purchased. A notary public with special authorization may issue, sign, and file a confidential marriage license.

Secret, Civil, Private, and Traditional Weddings

It's not uncommon to have a civil wedding ceremony and then have a traditional or destination wedding at a later date. Celebrities Joey King, JLo, and Elizabeth Olsen have done it. Anya Taylor-Joy originally eloped in New Orleans in 2022 and then had a wedding in Italy the following year. Millie Bobby Brown had a private family wedding in May of this year and is in the process of planning a second wedding for family and friends. Robert Pattinson and Suki Waterhouse recently had a secret wedding ceremony. Beyoncé, Kerry Washington, and Margot Robbie had secret weddings as well. Did TZ have a civil/secret/private wedding ceremony and are they planning a traditional/second wedding in the future? If so, it wouldn't be the first time they've kept their relationship status a secret.

Disclaimer: The opinions stated in this blog post are for entertainment purposes only.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ian McDonald's "The Wilding"

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Ian McDonald is one of those absurdly brilliant novelists that just leave me wondering the actual fuck he manages it. How does he cover so much ground, think up so many compelling characters, find so many gracenotes, conjure up so many complicated emotions?

McDonald burst on the scene in the late 1980s, with the 1988 novel Desolation Road and then his 1989 Out On Blue Six, a slick, stylized cyberpunk-meets-Orwell tale that overflowed with beautiful prose, technomysticism, and sly jokes that hid sneaky truths that hid even more sly jokes:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/20/out-on-blue-six-ian-mcdonalds-brilliant-novel-is-back/

By my count, McDonald has now published twenty books – mostly novels, but a couple short story collections (and the most amazingly demented, Tom-Waits-inflected teddybear murder comic imaginable, 1994's Kling Klang Klatch):

https://irishcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Kling_Klang_Klatch

McDonald's work is truly globespanning. While he's made his mark on the Martian soil, and overtaken the moon with the Luna trilogy (his definitive rebuttal to Heinlein's Moon Is a Harsh Mistress) he is widely adored and much-awarded for the glittering, futuristic versions of Brazil (Brasyl), Tanzania (the Chaga series), and India (River of Gods).

Indeed, McDonald's imagination has roamed so far over the Earth and the solar system that it's possible to overlook his fantastic reimaginings of Ireland, the land where he was raised. There's his Philip K Dick Award-winning 1991 novel King of Morning, Queen of Day, a swirling, mythopoeic novel of Celtic mysticism:

https://www.baen.com/king-of-morning-queen-of-day.html

And then there's 1992's Hearts, Hands and Voices, which is lowkey one of the best novels I have ever, ever read – a scorching science fictional allegory for The Troubles, but with the gnarliest biotech weirdness you can possibly imagine:

https://archive.org/details/heartshandsvoice0000ianm/mode/2up

McDonald's books cover so much goddamned ground, but one feature they all share is a prose styling wherein every sentence is at least 20% poetry, a fraction that somehow, impossibly, rises to as much as 150% in certain especially shiny passages.

Like this passage, which opens The Wilding, McDonald's new horror novel that marks his first return to Ireland since 1992:

Autumn lay on the great bog in silvers and tans, late purples and duns.

The sun rose above the tall ash saplings and feral sycamore. It called the birds into full voice. Stabbing shrills, tumbles of notes, the flutes of dove-call, frantic ticking hisses, song upon song. In hedgerows and copses, among the pale foliage of the birches, in the weave of deep willow and the bramble fastnesses, each bird called and was heard. In this season the peatland held the day's warmth through the night and on the bright, clear mornings rivers of mist formed, filling the subtle hollow places in the exposed cuttings, the bogs and fields. High sun would dispel it but at this hour half of Lough Carrow lay mist-bound. Each blade of grass hung heavy with dew, the clumps of sedges were already browning, the bracken curling and crisping.

A pair of horns lifted above the willow scrub and out-grown ash hedges of the Wilding. Polished tips caught the low sun and kindled as bright and keen as spears.

https://www.gollancz.co.uk/titles/ian-mcdonald/the-wilding/9781399611503/

Oof.

I would drop everything to read Ian McDonald's grocery lists but after that opening, I wasn't going to put this one down, and I didn't, reading the whole thing on yesterday's flight home from my gigs in Atlanta this week.

The Wilding is (I'm pretty sure?) McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

The story's protagonist is Lisa, a hard-case Dubliner who came to the bog to do community service after a career as a crime syndicate driver for hire, a woman who never met a car she couldn't boost and pilot in or out of any tight situation. After years in the bog, she's ready to start a new life, studying Yeats at university, indulging a late-discovered love of poetry that has as much to do with her redemption as her years in the wild.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

There's a lot of fantasy that deals with Celtic mythology, including McDonald's own King of Morning, Queen of Day, but the vibe of that stuff tends to the heroic and romantic – sure, there's the odd banshee, but in the main, it's mischievous wee people, pookas, and leprechauns. More fey than fear.

But Irish mythology in its raw form is terrifying. The monsters of Irish storytelling are grotesque, mean, remorseless, and come in every shape and size. Some authors have done well by going back to the bestiary for the deep cuts. When I was a kid, I must have read John Coyne's Hobgoblin fifty times (mostly because it was about D&D, which I was obsessed with). I haven't read this one since I was about 12, and I have no idea if it'd hold up today, but it left me with a deep appreciation of the spooky multifariousness of monsters who dwell in Ireland's bogs:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobgoblin_(novel)

The Wilding is a suspense novel, which means there's no way to really sum up the plot without spoiling a lot of the affect, but suffice to say that McDonald brings large swathes of deep Irish lore to the surface, and it had me reading as fast as I could and wanting to put the book down and hide.

What a writer McDonald is! The fact that this is the same guy who wrote last year's stunning secret-history/solarpunk/uncategorizable wonder that was Hopeland beggars belief:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/30/electromancy/#the-grace

Read you some Ian McDonald novels, is what I'm trying to say. This one is only available in the UK, if that's not where you are, consider mail-ordering it. Looks like they've got stock at Forbidden Planet for £19 plus £18 shipping to the US. Worth every penny:

https://forbiddenplanet.com/424306-the-wilding-hardcover/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

[saritapaleo]

Archovember is here once again! Looooots of theropods this year. Also a lot more dinosaurs in general than other archosaurs. Sorry. There were just too many I wanted to add!

I also apologize that there are several redraws in this list… I included a couple animals I’ve drawn for past Archovembers that I wasn’t quite happy with (7 to be exact, oop). If you’ve been drawing along since the beginning and don’t feel like drawing a repeat, feel free to substitute a related species!

For new folks: this is my “Draw Dinovember” list that I expanded out to include other archosauriforms. I started doing this a few years ago to challenge myself to draw species I’ve never drawn before and/or ones that don’t get a lot of attention. Feel free to join in! You can do the whole list, just the dinosaurs (the names in green), just the pterosaurs (orange), just the pseudosuchians (blue), just the 3 oddballs (red), just your favorites, just ones you’ve never drawn before, pick one blindly, roll a D20 and a D10 and draw the sum of whichever numbers you get, etc. Just make sure they’re posted on or after their specific day! You can use #Archovember or #Archovember2024, as those are the tags I follow. Be as detailed or as sketchy as you’d like! I’ll be leaving the story highlights on my Instagram (also SaritaPaleo) from last year’s Archovember up until November 1st, if you’d like to see what people have done in the past! (This challenge usually gets a lot more traction on Instagram; so I would recommend checking it out there if you have one!)

As a disclaimer that I am obligated to give every year: when you are looking for refs for some of these species you will come across David Peters. This guy posts a lot of pseudoscientific images featuring lesser-known species, and his stuff can sometimes dominate search results. Do not trust anything from sites called “Reptile Evolution” or “The Pterosaur Heresies.” Peters’ constant outpouring of material has a habit of clogging up search results, misleading and tripping up people who may be trying to get into paleoart. He fooled me when I was first starting out! If you’re drawing along and are having trouble finding legit references, send me a message and I can send you what I’m using!

Anyway, here is the list in case the above graphic can’t be read:

1. Your Choice!

2. Other - Protorosaurus speneri

3. Dinosaur - Gorgosaurus libratus

4. Pterosaur - Preondactylus buffarinii

5. Dinosaur - Gargoyleosaurus parkpinorum

6. Pseudosuchian - Razanandrongobe sakalavae

7. Dinosaur - Vespersaurus paranaensis

8. Other - Euparkeria capensis

9. Dinosaur - Spiclypeus shipporum

10. Pterosaur - Arambourgiania philadelphiae

11. Dinosaur - Tsintaosaurus spinorhinus

12. Pseudosuchian - Armadillosuchus arrudai

13. Dinosaur - Shingopana songwensis

14. Pterosaur - Cuspicephalus scarfi

15. Dinosaur - Saturnalia tupiniquim

16. Pterosaur - Caelestiventus hanseni

17. Dinosaur - Koreaceratops hwaseongensis

18. Pseudosuchian - Lotosaurus adentus

19. Dinosaur - Pelagornis sandersi

20. Pterosaur - Anurognathus ammoni

21. Dinosaur - Jakapil kaniukura

22. Pseudosuchian - Purussaurus brasiliensis

23. Dinosaur - Ledumahadi mafube

24. Pseudosuchian - Sillosuchus longicervix

25. Pterosaur - Pteranodon longiceps

26. Dinosaur - Compsognathus longipes

27. Other - Tanystropheus longobardicus

28. Pseudosuchian - Eurycephalosuchus gannanensis

29. Pterosaur - Campylognathoides zitteli

30. Dinosaur - Iguanodon bernissartensis

[doorstoplord]

I’m gonna gush about The Journal I’ve made for 2025

So the point of a travelers notebook, as I’ve said before, is to sling together booklets that can be interchanged inside a leather cover

Here’s my setup

The inside cover has a contact card and stencil just in case. I have a plastic sleeve insert that can hold cards but since it’s see thru I have it holding photos

The other side of the plastic sleeve holds temporary lists (this ones my Christmas list.) this is also the cover of my Annual book, a book that will ideally last half the year, if not all of it

The annual book has monthlies from November 2024 to July 2025

After that it’s a future log. Also in this book are lists I’ll reference often: automotive information, wishlists, long term to-dos and other such things

Then we have the back of the plastic sleeve with a zipper. Right now I just have a few receipts in there

I then have the card side of my wallet insert. On the other side I have some gift cards, on the side pictures I have important reference cards. I’m debating putting payment cards in here, idk. Right now my phone is also my wallet. The other side of this insert has a zipper and I keep cash inside.

Then I have the monthly book, which will ideally last one month. First I have my diary card, essentially a mood tracker that I bring to my therapist every time we meet

Then I set up all my weekly spreads for the month. On the left, I write any appointments before hand, and then at the end of every day I write a few short bullets about what happened that day. On the right, I have recurring tasks at the top, one off tasks beneath that, time tracking tasks beneath that, and a “need to get” list at the bottom

Also in this book are my daily pages for to dos, random notes and long hand journaling. There’s nothing in this page I don’t mind people reading but I can’t say the same for my entire notebook.

The app won’t let me upload more images

But after this is my sketchbook insert which is self explanatory.

This way ideally I just need this journal and a couple of pens and I’m good wherever I am. I’m so ridiculously happy with this and excited and aaaa

[the---hermit]

these storygraph monthly wrap ups are so satisfying to look at.

01|11|2024

Happy November! Today was a chill study day, mostly because I went out for lunch with my family, knowing we would get back home late, and I'd probably wouldn't have a lot of energies to continue studying. I ended up reading and undelining the second set of notes written by my history of the Sabaudian states professor. This set of notes was basically a very condensed version of the last section of the book, so I decided not to write separates notes for it, but to just add here and there a couple of additions and clarifications in the notes I had already made.

productivity list:

read first thing in the morning

read and underlined notes

started to add the new informations in my older notes

📖: This Is How You Lose The Time War

[cowgurrrl]

Slow It Down Cowboy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this ended up being so chunky but I hope that’s okay

Summary: The wall [5.8k!!!]

Warnings: academic blackmail??, bad administrative decisions, an even worse parent, Joel comforting reader, more art talk, slight angst

As the sun sets earlier and the weather dips below the usual heat, things actually start looking pretty good. Andie, somehow, found time off of work and is coming home for a few days during the long winter break. You've gotten back to making art you actually care about now that you're in a race with Joel. All your students are settled and starting to come out of their shells, making more experimental art. Ellie continues to show up with cups of coffee with your name on them before anyone else can spill into your classroom, and you continue to text Joel. 

How much are you spending on coffee now?

I thought we agreed to keep certain things secret.

Joel Miller.

Hush. You deserve it.

In between lessons and at lunch, you'll manage to catch each other at the right time and shoot messages off as fast as they come in. He helps you fix a squeaky chair over text, and you help him set up a care package to send to Sarah. It's nice even though you haven't really seen him since the night of the gallery opening. Even things at the bar seem to be doing better, and you're making enough to not have to worry so much. But you're most proud of the list of students whose art will be shown at the winter showcase, Ellie's work among them. 

You make a big deal about it and send in an announcement to be read in the morning, congratulating all the students. You even go out of your way to announce it in all your classes and offer extra credit to any student who shows up to support their classmates. Surprisingly, your rag-tag group of moody teenagers actually seem keen about the opportunity. Things are going well. You're happy, healthy, financially stable(ish), and your guards are down for the first time in a long time.

You're working with quiet music playing over your computer when the knock at your door sounds during planning period. You stand to open it, but before you can, you hear a jangle of keys and the popping of the lock. Principal Martinez walks in, squints at you, and immediately turns on the overhead fluorescent lights that haven't been used in God knows how long. They buzz in protest as your eyes adjust. 

"Hey!" You manage to sound cheery even though she looks like she means business. "I'm assuming you're here about the winter showcase?" You ask, and the line between her brows deepens.

"The what?"

"The showcase? A couple of my kids from the art club got accepted to have their artwork shown in a gallery downtown. It was on the announcements this morning. I can send you the information about when the event is." You offer. Something clicks, and she shakes her head now that she knows what you're talking about. 

"Oh, that," she says. "No, I'm not here about that." 

"Am I in trouble?" 

"Not exactly." She says, and you feel panic pool in your stomach like an unwanted visitor. "Dalton Green's father has brought his grade in your class to my attention."

"He hasn't turned anything in to me since September. I can't grade an empty page," you say, hoping that she's as aware as you are that it's the beginning of November. "I sent an email to his father and football coach back in October, but I still haven't seen any work from him."

"Mr. Green says he's positive his son has turned in work. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it?" 

"No, I've graded and given back every single assignment from the semester." 

"Let me be clear," she says. "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten to put his grades in? It's an easy mistake to make. You could always just input them now so that he's eligible to continue playing. You wouldn't want to bench a perfectly responsible young man. Would you?"

"Ma'am, are you suggesting I lie about Dalton's grades just so he can keep playing football?" You ask, your panic quickly turning into frustration. 

"It'd be such a silly thing to fail something as simple as art. Especially when the funding for the school comes directly from our team's ability to perform. Sometimes, as teachers, we have to make sacrifices to ensure the greater good of our students." She says. It never fails to surprise you how condescending people can be when it comes to your job. Martinez will be gone in a year to fight for a place on the school board, and it's clear she's not pulling her punches even now. Still, you're floored by the ask. Never in your career have you been asked by a principal to lie about a student's grades. 

"I'd be willing to make certain accommodations, but I'm really not comfortable doing that. If he wanted to turn something in, I could find a way to give him half credit." You say. Her face changes almost imperceptibly before she straightens up with a cynical smile. 

"Well, I think since you had the idea, you should be the one to call his father and tell him the good news," she says it like it's a reward, but it feels like more of a punishment. Your good mood comes crumbling around you as she looks at you expectantly. You have principles as a teacher. This is one of them, but how far are you willing to go to protect it? "I have a meeting with some people from the school board, but please let me know what conclusion you and Mr. Green come to regarding Dalton's grades." She says as she walks out of your room, not even bothering to look at you over her shoulder as she speaks to you.

"Fuck," you mutter as the door closes behind her. You stare at the phone and think about your options. You can't let her walk all over you just because she's your boss, and you won't compromise your values just so the football program will thrive. But you also really don't want to make this phone call. If Dalton's dad is as pleasant as he seems over email, you can't imagine this going well. "Fuck." You say again as you pick up the receiver and search your records for Dalton's dad's phone number. You find it, and in a burst of confidence, dial the number and listen to the line ring, secretly hoping he won't pick up. 

"Green." His dad says in place of a greeting, and you take a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr. Green. This is Dalton's art teacher from school. I understand you had some issues regarding his grade in my class?" You tread very carefully, but even then, he scoffs.

"You're damn right I have some issues. Why are you failin' him? He's gotta pass to play football, and Principal Martinez said you'd get it sorted." 

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm calling," you say. "Dalton hasn't turned in any of the assignments I've given out since September, and because of that, I've been unable to give him a good grade. However, I can make some arrangements to give him half credit for every assignment he turns in before the end of next week. That should give him more than enough time between classes and practice." 

"He told me you lost his assignments."

"No, sir, I haven't received anything from him." You say. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you almost hope the call dropped before he can respond. 

"Are you sayin' my son's a liar?" 

You spend the next twenty minutes being berated over the phone, not even allowed to get a word in without being cut off. Several times throughout the call, you think about hanging up and unplugging the phone, but you know that'd only make it worse. God forbid he show up at the school and humiliate you in front of the other staff or, worse, students. No wonder Dalton has issues if this is how his father speaks to people. If your day wasn't ruined by your encounter with the principal, it certainly is now. You handle it as well as possible until he gets near the end of his rant and takes a deep breath.

"I just can't believe they'd let a teacher as horrible as you work there. What right do you have to teach anything?" He says, and that's what really gets under your skin. Suddenly, hot tears spring in your eyes, and your throat feels like sandpaper.

"I don't know." It is the only thing you can think to say.

"Call me back when you have a real fuckin' solution and not whatever bullshit this is." He spits before hanging up the phone. You put the receiver down and bury your head in your hands, trying your best not to cry. Your molars buzz, and it feels like your head is swelling with pain. His insults and backhanded comments echo in your ears, and you can't hold the tears back any longer. 

What a fucking shit show. You know Martinez won't do anything about the verbal abuse unless you're willing to lie about grades, which is a ridiculous request in the first place. Dalton's dad won't back down, and you can safely assume Coach Sanders is next up on the roster if you don't do something soon. Why can't you get a kid to turn in a fucking piece of paper? Are you really that bad of a teacher that you're losing an argument with a seventeen-year-old? Is this the hill you want to die on? 

You think about going upstairs and seeking refuge in Mrs. Tomlinson's English class, your favorite coworker and the one who hides the good snacks in her desk, but you know she has a class, and you don't want to embarrass yourself. Andie is seven hours ahead and probably asleep. You're friends with people from the bar but not good enough friends that you could call them crying about a situation like this. The realization that you're alone in this makes you more emotional, and you have to stifle your sobs behind your hand. 

You jump when your doorknob twists open again, and you half-expect Martinez to be there with an I-told-you-so look on her face. You quickly turn so your back is to the door and wipe the tears on your face. You can't stand to be humiliated again today. When you turn back to see who entered your classroom, Joel's big brown eyes soften when he sees how upset you are. 

"Honey," he murmurs, and you almost start sobbing again at his soft tone. "What's goin' on?" 

"I didn't know you were coming today." You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together. He walks over and drops his toolbox on a nearby table so he can pull you up from your chair. 

"Supposed to be a surprise." He says as he tucks you into his chest. You hug him tightly and let him rub your back in the quiet of your classroom. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and the cold wind sweeping through the hill country. He should be wearing a jacket, but he's not, and you can feel goosebumps on his skin. For a minute, you just cling to him and cry, staining his shirt with tears, but he doesn't care. He's patient and shushes you gently as he adjusts his hold on you to bring you closer. You bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your head. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask into his skin. 

"I found your missin' piece for the projector. I thought I'd come install it for you so you'd stop fallin' off things tryna get it to work," he says. He leans back just enough to swipe your hair out of your eyes and rests his hands on either side of your face so you can see him. You want to turn away because you know you look like a crying mess, but he doesn't flinch. "There she is," he whispers fondly when you meet his eyes. "Your turn. What happened that's got you all upset?" He asks, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch stray tears. 

"Just… a really shitty call with a parent." You say, not wanting to get into specifics just yet. 

"Anythin' I can do?" He asks, and you shake your head. Just his presence is enough to make you feel better. His big, warm hands holding you like you're precious is a big plus, too. You run your hands over the muscles hidden by his shirt and take a deep breath. 

"Just this," you say, and he smiles. "'S a very nice surprise."

"I might've had ulterior motives." He says sheepishly, and you chuckle.

"What are your ulterior motives, maverick?" You ask. You honestly don't know where the nickname came from, but it's stuck around. You've heard it used by old southern women when talking about someone who's independent or doesn't follow the rules. "There goes maverick again!" They'd say when their unruly son would go speeding by in the kitchen. You think the private name suits him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice. You almost fold just because of how he's looking at you through his long eyelashes. Almost. The age-old sound of your projector whirring reminds you where you are, and you straighten up.

"Not here."

"After I fix the projector?" He negotiates, and you laugh at how quickly he bounces back.

"After you fix the projector and we're not on school campus anymore." 

"Deal," he says as he turns away from you and toward his toolbox. "You should time me. This might be the fastest replacement I've ever done."

"You're really that motivated now?" You tease, the levity between you two draining the dredges of your bad afternoon from your brain. He smiles and digs in his toolbox for the right screwdriver. 

"For you? Of course." He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile, and he winks at you. He's barely standing on a chair before you grab his arm and stop him.

"Wait," you say. You're not really sure what the plan is, but you also don't care. Joel, however, looks confused. "I found an old step stool in my storage closet the other day, but it's on the top shelf. If you can get it down, that might be a little safer."

"You've had a step stool this whole time, and you're still climbin' on tables?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "You're gonna put me in an early grave one of these days."

"Quit that," you laugh as he steps off the chair. "I didn't have time to get it down whenever I needed it, and I just forgot about it until the other day. C'mon, I'll show you where it is." He sighs dramatically but follows you into the dusty storage room filled floor to ceiling with various art supplies. It's hidden by a suspicious-looking, windowless door just off to the right of your classroom. You think it might've been used as a tornado shelter when the school was much smaller and younger, but since then, it's been renovated into a personal storage room. 

The second the door closes behind him, you turn around, push him against it, and kiss him before you can change your mind. He gasps into you like he wasn't expecting this but quickly grabs your waist, anchoring to you and kissing you back feverishly. You really had planned on making him wait until you were safe, far away from school grounds, instead of pulling him into the nearest private space like a teenager. But you figured if Martinez can break the rules, why can't you? 

Your hand snakes through his hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, drawing a content sigh from Joel. His lips are a little chapped and firm against yours. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and you want more. You tip your mouth up to him to kiss him deeper, and he grips your hips hard, his fingers grazing the skin just under the hem of your shirt. You test scratching your nails over the back of his neck, and he shudders beautifully under your touch. In one move, he switches places with you and pins you between him and the door. 

With him in control, he slows down just a little, kissing you softly like he's got all the time in the world. You've realized Joel likes treating you like you're made of porcelain. Like all it would take is one wrong move, and you'd fall apart under his touch. He lets you make the first move every time, tying his hands behind his back until you say the word in an impressive show of self-control. Even at the art gallery, when there was so much tension between you, you thought you'd choke on it; he wasn't the one who initiated. The knee-jerk reaction of flipping your positions against the door to take control is his first show of power, and you like it. What do you need to do to get him to do it again?

The bell sounding through the intercom breaks you apart, and you groan at the intrusion. Nothing is keeping you after school today but you aren't ready to separate from Joel just yet. You rest your head on the door and stare at him as you vaguely hear the sounds of rowdy kids flooding the hallways. His lips are swollen and a little pink, and his hair is messy from all your pulling. 

"What?" He questions your staring and you shake your head.

"I just like looking at you," you say. "Your hair is also a mess, but that's a completely different story." 

"And whose fault is that?" He laughs and musses his curls back into place. You help with a few strands at the back and smile when everything is tame again. 

"Good as new." You say. Now, it's his turn to peer at you, and you give him a confused look. You swipe under your eyes as if there's mascara stuck there and fix your hair, waiting for him to give you the all-clear, but he just chuckles.

"I can't believe you pulled me into a closet to make out." 

"Me neither, honestly." You admit as the both of you dissolve into delirious laughter. You wait in the closet for a few more minutes so the hallways can clear out (and you can kiss a little more) before you finally exit, checking that it's clear and then opening the door wider for Joel. When he sees his toolbox sitting on the desk where he left it, he sighs and glances between you and the ceiling. 

"I'm never gonna get to fix that goddamn projector." He mutters, and you laugh as you pass in front of him and pat his shoulder. 

"Next time, maverick." You say. His grumbles disappear as you pack up your stuff side-by-side in silence. It's nice to not feel like you always have to fill the space with conversation. It's enough for papers to rustle as they land in your bag and his tools to clink as they find their proper homes. The hallways have gone quiet, and the eerie silence of an empty school slowly creeps up on you. 

Joel's boots squeaking catch your attention as you unplug your computer and start turning off various lamps around the classroom. He stands in front of the whiteboard where you have a big print of a Rothko painting displayed for today's art history lesson. He tilts his head as he looks at it like he's trying to find some hidden meaning or perspective, and you smile to yourself at the motion. 

"Lots of people think it's not much to look at." You break the silence from the back of the room, and he looks at you over your shoulder.

"I didn't say that."

"I know. I'm just letting you know what certain historians say," you say. You finish with all the lamps, and the only light coming into the classroom is the little bit of natural light streaming in from the windows near the ceiling. Stray dust spins in the air as you join him in looking at the poster of the Rothko, and you try to imagine what he's thinking. 

It's a little unnerving, like most of the ones Rothko made towards the end of his life. The vast darkness on the top half of the painting is daunting, while the gray at the bottom helps ground the viewer, at least a little. If you look closely enough, you can see the various washes and brushstrokes he used to create the painting. Obviously, a lot of skill and time went into something like this, even though not everyone wants to see it. "It's hard to know what it meant to him. It probably didn't mean anything, honestly. He wanted people to have sensory experiences with his art, so you only get as much as you put into it." You explain, and Joel nods but doesn't look away from the painting.

"Is it the surface of the moon?" He asks. 

"What makes you say that?" You interrogate, trying to hide your excitement at getting to hear him tell you what he thinks of art. 

"Well, it kinda looks like I'm standin' on the moon and lookin' out into space." He says as he runs his finger over the divide between the two colors. 

"Where's the Earth, then?"

"Maybe I'm on the dark side of the moon." 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe the Earth is just too far away, and I can't reach it, but I know it's there. If the moon started spinnin' faster or somethin', I could see it, but maybe it's not for me to see..." It's incredibly profound, even if he doesn't realize it. You see where he's coming from based on what you know about his past and almost want to reach for his hand, but you don't. "But I don't know. What do I know bout art?"

"A lot," you answer quickly, hating how he talks about himself like he's stupid. "You know a lot. That was a really good analysis." He hums noncommittally and bumps your shoulder with his. 

"What bout you? What's it to you?" He asks, and you sigh as you look the colors over again.

"A wall and the night sky." 

"A wall?" 

"Yeah. It's either protecting me or keeping me in, but either way, it's there, and there's not much I can do about it. I could stay where I am and never find out what's beyond it and be safe, or I could climb the wall and never be the same again. I wouldn't know what's behind it or what's out there— that's why it's all black at the top— but maybe that's what's so interesting about it. The unknown." You say, and Joel hums. 

"You should be a teacher or somethin'." He says, and you laugh and move to grab your backpack off your desk. 

"It just might be in the cards for me," you say. "What's Ellie doing tonight? Don't you have to pick her up?" 

"She's actually going to the movies with some friends tonight." He says, beaming with pride, and you gasp dramatically.

"Is she really?"

"Sent her with twenty dollars and everythin'."

"Oh, that's so good! She's doing so good! I knew art club would get her out of her shell." You clap your hands, and he nods, smiling.

"She certainly ain't shy anymore. It feels like she's always on the phone with someone these days." He's a little nostalgic for the little girl who used to cling to her dad, and you make a sympathetic sound. 

"Don't you worry. I'm sure she'll want to hang out with her old dad during winter break."

"Old?!" He parrots as you usher him out of the room, your keys jingling on your arm. 

"Her words, not mine." You say as you walk out into the empty hallway with him and lock your classroom door behind you. He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath but doesn't push you for any insider information on Ellie. You like having your secrets with her, and as long as she's not a threat to herself or others, you'll keep those secrets until she's ready to tell him. 

You walk out to the parking lot together to catch the last few rays of sun scattering across the sky and smile when you see that Joel somehow managed to park close to your car. He loads his tools up in his truck bed while you throw your backpack in the backseat, but neither of you gets in your car immediately after things are settled. Instead, you wander back over to his truck and lean against one of the doors. 

"So, if Ellie's out with friends, what are you doing for the rest of the night?" You ask, and he smirks, stepping into your space. You think about scolding him, but the parking lot is practically empty. Plus, you like having him close. In the orange light of dusk, you feel safe next to him and his truck. He quirks an eyebrow at you and looks serious. 

"Are you askin' me on a date?"

"It's not a date."

"Is this the same thing like you weren't gonna kiss me, and then you did?" He teases. You roll your eyes and push off his truck, putting your arms up in defeat. 

"I didn't realize Joel Miller hated spontaneity so much. Fine, I'll stop doing it." You start walking back toward your car, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back before you can get far. You smile when your chest collides with his and look up at him. 

"Now, I didn't say all that," he says. "'M just surprised. You're gettin' ballsy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," he says as he leans forward like he's about to tell you a secret. "I think it's pretty hot, actually." He whispers lowly in your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck and making your face hot. You shove at his shoulder, but he just laughs and grabs your hand. "What? You don't like me callin' you hot?" 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" 

"I ain't hearin' a 'no.'" 

"Yes, Joel, I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?" You finally relent, and he shrugs with every ounce of sass.

"Maybe," he says. "I also wanna hear what you were thinkin' for our not date."

"Oh, something super romantic." 

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Whataburger meals and milkshakes." You say, and he makes a play at his knees giving out under him. 

"A woman after my own heart." He groans, and you roll your eyes. 

You could take separate cars. It'd probably be easier for getting home and take away an extra stop, but you don't really care about that when you climb into the passenger's side of his truck. He doesn't seem surprised by your decision to ride with him and rests a hand on your thigh the second he pulls out of the school parking lot. He asks about your day, painting, and even if you've heard anything else from Henry as he drives. You rant a little about Principal Martinez and ask about his day, so he gets a turn ranting about headers and structural issues. You're not exactly sure what he's talking about, but you nod and listen anyway, and he doesn't critique you for not knowing. 

When you get to Whataburger, you have to scout to make sure there are no teenagers you recognize before going in. Of course, he opens the door and lets you order first like a gentleman, but you elbow him out of the way so you can pay before he can even reach for his wallet. By the look on his face, you would've thought you ripped a cookie out of his hands. "It's my turn!" You say, but he still looks shocked when you hand him his orange and white striped cup. You choose a booth near the back and continue talking about your days or recent developments until your food comes, and then you talk in between bites. It's not romantic, but it is comfortable. 

He updates you on Sarah's progress in medical school and even shows you pictures on his phone of the last time the three of them were all together. He looks lighter when he's with the both of them like all the pieces of his heart are bound in those girls. You like to think it is. He tells you how he's looking at grants for small-business owners in Austin and is eligible to apply for a good amount. "'M just nervous I won't get any." He says, and you shake your head.

"They've got insane amounts of money they're looking to give to hardworking people. I bet you'll be a millionaire by the end of this bet." You say, and he chuckles as he pops a fry in his mouth. 

"What bout you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"How's the search for a gallery goin'?" You take a deep breath at his question and shrug.

"I don't really have anything to submit just yet, but some places are taking rolling submissions, so I can send something in whenever. I just want it to be good." 

"'M sure it will be." He says, and you give him a look. 

"You haven't even seen any of my work. What if it's awful?"

"Then I'd lie and say it's the best thing I've ever seen." 

"So you’re a iiar." 

"At least, I'd be a considerate liar." He says. You're about to start arguing with him about it when a pair of familiar eyes meet yours across the restaurant. Before you can even think about a tactic to get out of the situation, she's already up and walking toward your booth.

"Oh, shit," you mutter, and Joel's eyebrows furrow until he finds who you're looking at. His face falls exactly the same way you're sure yours did.

"Hi!" Marnie greets as she lands in front of you. "I haven't seen you in a minute!"

"I know! I've been meaning to text you about getting drinks, but I keep forgetting!" It's a lie. A considerate lie, but a lie nevertheless. 

"Oh, you're too sweet. We'll set somethin' up," she says as she turns to Joel. "And you! I haven't seen you since Sarah moved. How is she?" Oh, shit. How does she know you and Joel? He recovers quickly with a charming smile and a nod.

"Yes, ma'am. She's doin' real good up in Boston. Keepin' outta trouble and everythin'." 

"And Ellie? How's she doin'? She still makin' art?" 900,000 people in Austin and countless Whataburgers within 100 square miles, and the person who walks into the one you're in is the one you used to work with at school. Not only that, but she knows Joel's kids. She knows Joel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah, she's still doin' art. She's good at it. She's seein' a movie with some friends from school tonight." He says, and Marnie's eyes light up at the mention of the high school while Joel tenses.

"Oh, my gosh, how's the new classroom? I completely forgot they renovated that old teacher's lounge a couple years ago." 

"It's good. The equipment's a little old, but nothing's fallen apart yet. You'll have to come see it sometime."

"We'll have to find a time!" She says, always insanely cheerful. "Well, I'll let y'all get back to your meal, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't come over here and say hello to you two. Joel, please tell the girls I said hi."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel says politely. With that, Marnie turns and walks back to her waiting husband and says something that sounds like, "I know them!" Your food is suddenly cold and unappetizing when you look at it, and your stomach is in knots. The warm bubble around you and Joel has burst, and you're left in the stark light of the truth. "D'you wanna go?" Joel whispers, and you nod. 

He takes your trays and throws away the food before opening the door for you to walk out into the cool night air, avoiding Marnie's stare the whole time. He doesn't reach for you or help you into the truck. He barely looks at you until you're in the safety of the cab. The world is spinning around you, and alarms are sounding in your brain. What the fuck just happened?

"How do you know her?" You ask Joel, staring straight ahead, and he swallows hard.

"She was Sarah and Ellie's science tutor," he says, and your eyes flutter shut. "How do you know her?"

"She was the science teacher at the high school during my first year there. She left to go to a different school after that, but we were pretty close."  

"So, she knows you're a teacher at the same school my kid goes to."

"And she knows Ellie does art, so she knows she would be one of my students." You slowly piece together how bad this could be. You got caught having dinner with the parents of one of your students. If Marnie says anything, word could travel through the district until Martinez hears about it. You'd be in much more trouble than you already are with her. You could be accused of giving Ellie special treatment and violating school policy. 

"Fuck." Joel mumbles, mirroring your exact thoughts, and you nod. 

"We can't do this." You whisper, not wanting to admit it, especially after such a nice day with him. He doesn't protest. He feels the gravity of the situation. You want to put your hand over his. You want to hug him. You want to comfort him the way he comforted you, but you can't. 

"I know." His voice is even and controlled like he's choosing his words carefully, but you can hear the disappointment in his words. You can't go back to an hour ago when you were laughing and pulling him into storage rooms. You have to stay where you are. You have to stay safe. He is the personification of your wall and you have to be okay with not knowing what’s beyond it.

You can't do this.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for triggering someone’s epilepsy (unknowingly)?

So I’m (19F) in this relatively small Discord server for a fandom. We occasionally get new members but there’s always been a “core” group of 7 of us who started it originally. We’re pretty close and consider each other genuine online friends, and we all admin the server.

A couple weeks ago, a new member (?M) who I’ll call K joined and I immediately felt a little sketched out by him because in his Discord profile in the pronouns section he put “goon/gooner.” I’m cis but I worried for the rest of the server (mostly trans), though they either didn’t see it or didn’t point it out. K seemed okay, he wasn’t very active other than reacting to stuff with emojis so he faded into the background and didn’t really bother me.

So we have a channel in the server for holiday stuff and yesterday one of the admins sent something for the first day of Hanukkah (the 8th) and pinged everyone. The last message above that was about Transgender Day of Remembrance (the 20th of November, before K joined) and after getting pinged for the new one I guess K saw that because he suddenly replied to one of the articles (about a trans boy-to-girl getting murdered) and said “rip king, sorry to see a brother go down.” It was very obvious in the article’s thumbnail that the teenager murdered was a girl, and it said she was trans in the title.

I was livid. Most of my friends are trans and I would (metaphorically) die defending them. I was too angry to write an actual response so I just sent a GIF (the “You should kill yourself now” one with the guy with white eyes and lightning flashing in the background, except it was sped up). K didn’t reply and another admin deleted his message and I wanted him banned, but they said we should wait for K to reply and give him the benefit of the doubt in case he was mistaken or misread it.

K started spamming in our general channel about half an hour later, super mad and saying stuff like “FUCK YOU YOU [R-SLUR] YOU MADE ME HAVE A FUCKING SEIZURE I HAVE EPILEPSY YOU DIPSHIT” and was just basically saying variations of that over and over until we kicked him. Apparently K had mentioned his epilepsy at one point but I don’t remember it ?? An admin pulled up a message though (his intro) where he listed it.

The other main 6 admins are very conflicted on this, but they mostly seem to think I’m an asshole and a couple of them have even unfriended me. I would be the asshole if I knew about K’s epilepsy, but I shouldn’t be expected to read every single message sent in the server, and honestly K took the risk of being on the internet where there are tons of flashing images, and I’m pretty sure there are accessibility settings you can have on Discord and your computer in general. Plus, K was being transphobic, and I was very angry and didn’t respond well. The others said I could’ve put a flash warning or something, but I wasn't thinking straight in the moment.

So, is this a NTA, JAH, or ESH? Because K was definitely an asshole too, even if he had epilepsy. I don’t know, the situation is complicated and he could be lying, so.

What are these acronyms?

[bellaxgiornata]

October Update Information

Tuna-Tober starts next week and I figured I'd give a bit of information about what to expect from me during this next month. It's fitting this writing challenge happens during my birthday month and after reaching over three thousand of y'all lovely people following me! I have absolutely no idea how we got here and I want to celebrate, but I am far too busy to do a follower event specifically. BUT I'll be dropping quite a few fics throughout the month of October for Tuna-Tober so we can pretend it's serving multiple celebration purposes! It's like my birthday gifts to all of you!

I'll be giving a bit of important information below the cut, but you can keep up with my updates for this event in my Tuna-Tober Masterlist.

I'm going to try to schedule posts for the days I have a fic to drop on tumblr (which I've never done and hope it works) in order to update on the correct dates. Though for those of my AO3 readers, you'll either have to read the fics here or wait because I will most likely not be able to get those posted on the correct days. I'm far too busy to actually sit down and update almost daily, unfortunately (and I don't think AO3 let's you schedule posts).

I will not be updating any of my series' during the month of October. I'll be posting far too much already (currently seven pieces completed but I'm aiming to get a couple more written/finished that you see on the masterlist and some you don't) But I should hopefully resume those stories in November.

I will try to use the character one shot tag lists for each of my Tuna-Tober updates, but I will not be adding to it during the time since I'll be scheduling posts ahead of time. I'm hoping tumblr will properly tag, but if not, the days I have fics going up will be listed in the event masterlist. You can always go there to see what updates are out and when more are coming.

I love all feedback and will absolutely try my best to respond to everyone, but I will probably be slow since I'm posting more fics in a month than I've probably posted...like ever. But I absolutely read every comment and reblog when I see them and I appreciate each one ❤

With that, my first fic should drop on October 1st! 🙃

[bulkyphrase]

2012 Avengers Tower: a fic rec list

I think we all sometimes yearn for the days when we thought Marvel would let the Avengers be friends who all lived together and fought supervillains in between movie nights.

Though these stories weren't all written or set in 2012 post-Avengers 1 era, but they all feature that team hanging out, having fun, and supporting each other through difficulties.

The list is in chronological order, with fic published from 2012 to 2024.

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup (@galaxystew-zombie) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 26,586 words | Published April 01, 2012)

Summary: In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Big in Japan by gunboots (@gunboots) (Loki/Thor, Stucky | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,203 words | Published May 01, 2012)

Summary: Steve hesitantly reaches out and takes the object in Tony’s arms to survey it. 'It' being a pillow upon which was an almost frighteningly accurate illustration of Loki, their on-and-off again nemesis. "I don't--how did you even get this? Who would MAKE this?" Clearly Steve doesn't find the attention-to-detail on Loki's costume as hilarious as Tony does, which whatever. Like he said. Killjoy. A.K.A The one time Tony buys Thor the world's worst souvenir and it somehow worked out in the end anyway.

The rest are below the cut!

Soft Skills by Lady_Ganesh (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,154 words | Published May 31, 2012)

Summary: "So," Bruce said carefully. "You're saying that your tower became a big target for an alien army, so you're going to rebuild it as an even bigger target?" "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid," Tony said. The team tries to bring Steve Rogers into the 21st Century. It mostly works. As my beta CaptainBlue said: Also I love how you did a fic about Avengers team building and still managed to make it 100% about Cap. You have a gift. This is why I love her. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Without the Usual Cost of Labor by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,387 words | Published June 15, 2012)

Summary: "Someone just reported to SHIELD that whatever was stolen produced “viable offspring,” and we’re hoping that doesn’t mean what we think it does,” Bruce says, evidently deciding to take over for Tony after only one masturbation joke. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Great Avengers Body Swap by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,712 words | Published July 23, 2012)

Summary: Loki and the Avengers spend a month in SHIELD's detention cells, because Loki cast a bodyswapping spell against them and got himself with it, too. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Ice in Windless Cold by Isagel (@isagelc) (OT6 | Explicit | 11,883 words | Published August 19, 2012)

Summary: "I dream about the ice," Steve says. "About being in the ice." Also available as a podfic read by susan_voight

Private Bookmark? by storiesfortravellers (Gen | Mature | 2,638 words | Published August 24, 2012)

Summary: The Avengers discover that there are fans who write explicit RPF fic about them. Some of them are very confused. Some are proud. Some don't understand why everyone writes the pairings who aren't together but hardly anyone writes the couple who actually is together. Much silliness ensues. Also available as a podfic read by analise010, AshesandGhost, dapatty, fire_juggler, lorcalon (uniquepov), Opalsong, Weebs813

The Goat's Back by arsenicarcher (Arsenic) (Gen | Mature | 10,155 words | Published November 30, 2012)

Summary: An AU where Steve's essentially a failed experiment, corporal punishment is the predominant form of discipline and team leaders take the punishments for those under them.

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (@pollyrepeat) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,221 words | Published March 31, 2013)

Summary: The most annoying parts of being de-aged (and then re-aged) are your friends. Also available as a podfic read by RsCreighton (@rosecreighton)

What We Pretend To Be by ifitwasribald (Gen, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark | Explicit | 100,697 words | Published July 14, 2013)

Summary: Good becomes great, bad becomes worse. But people are a hell of a lot more complicated than good and bad. When half of the team is dosed with the super soldier serum, they all have to grapple with their own pasts and futures. But for better or for worse, they’re all in it together.

Speak So We Can Hear Your Heart Beat by Jaune_Chat (@jaune-chat) (Gen, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Jane Foster/Thor | Mature | 15,402 words | Published November 10, 2014)

Summary: The Avengers are rendered mute by Amora the Enchantress. As a search for a cure grows more and more dim every day, the Avengers have to deal with the reality of learning to communicate with each other in a whole different way. Uncertain if they'll be able to fight again, they enlist the help of their friends, and learn some surprising things about each other as they struggle to hold onto their identities as the World's Greatest Heroes.

The Health Benefits of Knitting by Niobium (@niobiumao3) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,179 words | Published January 15, 2015)

Summary: Clint isn't sure what's really relieving Natasha's stress—the knitting, or the part where she foists the horrible results off on other people. Also available as a podfic read by reena_jenkins (@reena-jenkins)

Clint Barton's Guide to Friends and Ceiling Vents by NoliteTimereEos (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,488 words | Published July 11, 2015)

Summary: In which Clint Barton meets a missing assassin in the vents and somehow becomes friends with him. Things don't go as bad as they could have. Also available as a podfic read by babbling_bedlamite

How to Train Your Superheroes by StuckySituation (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,150 words | Published March 05, 2019)

Summary: “But of course, no matter how much we practice on schedule, we will need to learn constant vigilance and manage to get our reaction times down to the minimum,” Steve continues and takes the last burger beef from the grill and puts it onto the table next to him. Natasha has a brief millisecond to frown and think “Constant vigilance?”, before Steve kicks the grill so hard that the coals rain on top of the flammable carpet feet away. “What the hell-!?” “STEVE!?” Steve is already sprinting towards the ledge. “First training session started! Wanda, Sam, Tony - someone CATCH ME!” Then he jumps off the Tower. Also available as a podfic read by vassalady (@vassalady)

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (@galaxythreads) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 11,022 words | Published April 25, 2020)

Summary: "Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

5 Times Steve Dealt with His Team's Sleeping Habits... by The67ImpalaDragonChild (@dragonimpal67) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 29,606 words | Published November 08, 2020)

Summary: ...and one time they dealt with his. Steve didn't think anything of it when he moved into the Avengers tower. He didn't think about how much the people he's living with would affect him. He's thinking about it NOW! Who knew a bunch of super heroes could be so weird about something as basic as the need to sleep?

on the mend by meidui (@meidui) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,438 words | Published February 03, 2024)

Summary: Steve rarely feels this awful after a fight, but then again, he hasn’t been on a solo mission in months.

[nanowrimo]

Writing Tips for Every Age and Mental State

Not every piece of writing advice will apply to you —  and that’s okay! Sometimes, your writing strategies will change as you go through life or learn more about yourself. NaNo Participant Clara Ward shares writing advice that they've learned over time.

There’s no right way to write. Writing—like life—is about finding your best fit. What follows are tricks that worked for me. Please borrow what works best for you right now. (Then save a few ideas for future you!)

I wrote my first novel four decades ago, when I was thirteen. I’ve written while juggling three jobs or zero. I’ve written as a kid, a parent, and an empty-nester. I’ve learned from my own neurodiversity and mental health challenges along the way.

Each struggle taught me how to customize my writing practice. Here’s a list of what worked for me at different stages. Adapt as you see fit.

Stage 1: Meet Yourself Where You’re At

Outline - For my first novel, I sketched furtive notes on the back pages of a school notebook. I created headings for each page that became section or chapter titles later. Numbers helped me order the scenes and letters delineated details.

Note: Leave extra space for fun facts or snippets of overheard dialog. Years later, I heard a NaNoWriMo buddy joke, “Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.” My apologies to my high school geometry teacher, who received no such warning.

Avoid Distractions - I needed a closed door to write at first. I couldn’t read other fiction during the week or two when I frantically converted my outline into a rough draft. Luckily, I wasn’t in charge of meals back then!

Stage 2: Find Your People

Give Yourself Permission - I first heard about NaNoWriMo in 2004, when I was parenting, working, and volunteering as if there were two extra days in each week. I hadn’t written a story, an outline, or notes in over a year, but I knew exactly what I wanted to write. I signed up for NaNoWriMo and opened a family meeting by showing the webpage to my spouse and kids. I explained how I’d budget four hours a week for writing in November.

Note: I didn’t complete 50,000 words that first November. But the next year, my kids enthusiastically joined the Young Writers Program!

Enlist Support - Eventually, my kids and I designated one hour each day for writing. There were many distractions, but it felt great! We attended NaNoWriMo write-ins at a donut shop to build community, and my kids each persuaded a friend to join. (Yes, donuts are a sometimes food, but at least they weren’t asking for coffee!). With support and determination—and for me, a bit of sleep debt—we all met our writing goals most years!

Stage 3: Embrace Your True Strengths

Emotion Mapping - In the last couple decades, as attitudes and terminology evolved, I’ve learned a lot about my own neurodivergence and mental health. Oddly enough, the self-knowledge I gained by masking and compensating before I knew those words, informed both my writing and the tips given above. As I became more honest with myself, I brought more emotion to my writing.

Note: Sometimes it helps to skip scenes I’m not in a good headspace to write. I jot down key plot and character points inside curly brackets and skip to a scene that suits my current feelings. Since I don’t used curly brackets anywhere else in my writing, they’re easy to search for when I’m ready to go back.

Fascinations - After years of being warned about “info dumps,” I realized that my own fascinations (neurodivergent or otherwise) were assets that could serve my writing. At the beginning of 2020 I did a deep dive into researching sea creatures and ways to protect our oceans. At the back of my research notebook, I gradually outlined my 2020 NaNoWriMo Novel, Be the Sea. Parts of that outline cross-referenced pages of ocean research or articles I’d saved online.

Note: The system above worked well enough for me that I now have a book deal for Be the Sea, which will be published by Atthis Arts in early 2024!

Seriously though, this isn’t a post about how to get published on a 40-year plan. By matching your writing practices to your ever-changing self, you give all your stories the chance to be told. I wish you and your stories that success!

Clara Ward lives in Silicon Valley on the border between reality and speculative fiction. When not using words to teach or tell stories, Clara uses wood, fiber, and glass to make practical or completely impractical objects. Their short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Decoded Pride, The Arcanist, and as a postcard from Thinking Ink Press. Clara’s 2020 NaNoWriMo novel, Be the Sea, will be available from Atthis Arts in early 2024. For updates on this and other projects, follow Clara on their website. Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva from Pexels

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join the tag list

Summary: Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the love on this fic and any others you may have read! Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed 💕 There will be one more chapter to this story.

Reminder that I’m open to requests, esp Joel because he’s the source of my brain rot right now. 🫠

Additional Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (38M and 23F), oral (f receiving), pet names, dirty talk, ANGST not resolved in chapter (i hurt my own feelings with this one). Let me know if any are missing!

At the start of November, you ask Joel about coming with you to your parent’s house for Thanksgiving.

The question stops him in his tracks. It makes sense, the next logical progression of your relationship would be meeting friends and family, and you’ve already met his brother and daughter. In any other relationship, it would only be fair that he meets your parents soon.

The problem is he’s met your parents, just under different circumstances. And he doesn’t have much faith in them being particularly receptive to the news that their hired contractor got in bed with their daughter.

“You look worried,” you comment. You’re reclined on his couch with a book, one of his sweatshirts engulfing your frame. You set the book aside as he enters the room and sits beside you, moving your feet to his lap and squeezing your shin.

“I am worried. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says gently. Your face drops and he feels his heart fracture at the sight.

“I don’t want to have to keep you a secret just to keep you,” you say, voice small. He gives you a tight smile.

“Just…give me a little more time, okay?” He leans over until his hands are planted in the cushions on either side of your head. He drops a kiss to your lips. Then another. And another.

The question is forgotten between the movement of your bodies.

________

The next time you ask is around Christmas. You’re lying in bed beside him, head resting on his chest, fingers drawing patterns over his bare skin.

“What do you think about coming to my parent’s Christmas Eve?” You ask quietly. If the hitch in his breath is any indication, you already prepare yourself for disappointment.

“I can’t, baby,” he says. “Goin’ to Tommy’s place that night.”

“Right,” you reply.

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t offer an alternative. You recognize that it’s not fair of you to expect that as a response, but the hurt in your heart isn’t helping your sense of logic.

You just want to be completely open about your relationship, and your parents knowing about it is the last hurdle. Your best friend, Hannah, met him a couple months ago when he’d woken up at your apartment the morning after you’d screamed your confession of love at him in your hallway.

Things have been great since then. You spend the night at his place a couple times a week, trying to balance the visits with your study schedule. Together you take Sarah to the park or the zoo or back to the aquarium, spending the days wrapped around the little girl’s finger and the nights wrapped around each other.

But you want him in every facet of your life. You want him and his daughter and hell, even his brother, over for holidays with your family and you want them with you during big milestones like your graduation in the spring.

His breathing goes deep and slow beneath your head and you sigh, sinking into the disappointment.

________

To make up for not seeing you on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, Joel makes plans with you on December 26. You arrive at his house late in the morning to find him making breakfast while Sarah stands on a kitchen chair beside him, mixing a bowl of pancake batter with intense focus. She nearly drops it in excitement when she hears you come in, shouting your name and scrambling from her perch.

Her arms wrap around your legs and her eyes zero in on the brightly wrapped box balanced in your arms as you try to set your overnight bag down.

“Who’s that for?” She asks. “Is it for me?”

“Sarah,” Joel admonishes, taking over her abandoned mixing. The little girl is unfazed.

“It just so happens to be for you,” you tell her, handing over the present. She squeals, ripping into the wrapping paper and pulling out a new Barbie doll, one who’s curly hair looks just like hers. She gasps.

“Daddy, it’s a Barbie! And look at her hair!” She exclaims, shaking the box in Joel’s face. His eyes meet yours over her head, full of gratitude.

“What do you say?” Joel prompts gently. Sarah wraps her arms around your legs again.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly. “Can you help me open it?”

“Of course. Could you get me your scissors?”

She bolts from the room and Joel crosses the kitchen to grasp your face in his palms, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips that makes your knees go weak.

“Now where’s my present?” He asks with a sly grin, earning him a smack on the chest.

“You can unwrap it later,” you tell him, wiggling your eyebrows. Sarah returns to the room, carefully holding her craft scissors with the blades down like she learned in school.

You help free the Barbie from her cardboard confinement and Sarah plays with her through breakfast, alternating bites of pancake and pretend conversation with her new favorite toy. Towards the end of breakfast, the front door opens and Tommy yells out his hello.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says to you with a wink. Joel glares at him. It’s been a running joke between you and Tommy the last couple of months.

“You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles glaring at your brother like that,” you tease.

Tommy’s come over to pick up Sarah because Joel has a whole day planned, starting with a trip to your favorite coffee shop.

“Get somethin’ hot, it’s cold where I’m takin’ you next,” Joel says while you’re in line, his hand around your hip to keep you pressed to his side.

________

The next stop Joel has planned for you is the ice skating rink. You mentioned briefly at the beginning of the month that you usually go every winter, digging the old pair of skates from your teenage years out from your closet for the occasion. Joel was lucky enough to find them the last time he’d stayed at your apartment, stashing them in the back of the truck for this moment. He holds the bag out to you and your face lights up.

“Joel! Seriously?” You ask, bouncing slightly in your seat.

“Yep. You ready to watch me fall on my ass?” He asks.

And fall on his ass he does. He grips the wall of the rink, inching along on shaky legs as you skate laps past him, the sound of your laughter making the suffering worth it.

You try to help him learn. He holds both your hands as you slowly skate backwards, his knees bent as he’s simply dragged along the ice. As soon as you let go of his hands, his feet slide out from under him and he goes tumbling down.

You stand over him, trying to hide a giggle behind your hand as he groans in pain, the cold seeping into his jeans.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” He asks with a grunt. “Help an old man up.”

“I will always lend a hand to a senior citizen in need,” you tease, holding a hand to him.

Once standing, Joel tugs you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and looking down into your face. Christ, you’re so pretty, face all flushed and smile so wide it’s damn near blinding in its brightness.

“You ready for dinner yet?” He asks. You nod.

You try to pull away, but he keeps a tight hold around you. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you just holding on to me so that you don’t fall?”

“Is it that obvious?” You laugh, ducking until you’ve escaped his arms. He stands still, arms out at his sides as he tries to maintain his balance. “You gonna help me here?”

Your grin is mischievous as you skate away from him, the sound of his cursing drowned out by your delighted laughter.

________

Joel makes a quick stop at his house so that you can change into the outfit you’d been instructed to bring for dinner, a light blue dress with a low neckline that hugged your curves down to your knees. You did your hair and makeup in his bathroom before slipping the dress on, stepping out to request his help with the zipper.

“Shit, baby, I might have to cancel the reservations if you’re goin’ to walk around lookin’ good enough to eat,” he says with a whistle. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Then why don’t you?” You ask.

He blinks, staring at you with his mouth dropped open like he can’t believe you said that. But then his brain comes back online and he marches toward you, backing you up with the press of his body until your knees meet the edge of the mattress and he pushes you down gently.

He drops to his knees, hiking the dress up over your thighs until he’s exposed the lacy black panties you put on. He groans, looking up at you briefly before he turns his head and sinks his teeth into your inner thigh.

Your head drops back with a moan and you can feel his lips spread into a smile against your skin. His hands work to slide your panties down your thighs and off your legs, bunching them into a ball and stuffing them into his pocket.

“Dirty man,” you tease. He laughs, a dark low rumble that makes you impossibly wetter.

“Can’t help it when you look this good, sweetheart.”

There’s no more talking after that. He licks through your wet center, circling your clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches from the bed as you shout, fingers digging into his hair to pull him closer.

His tongue dips lower to explore inside your tight heat, his nose bumping your clit and his fingers pressed so tightly into your thighs you’re certain there will be bruises for you to admire in the morning.

“Joel,” you whimper, hips writhing beneath him. He releases his grip on one thigh to slide two fingers into you, curling them as he withdraws his hand and making you see stars.

He lifts his head, circling your clit with his thumb as he growls, “Come on, darlin’, wanna feel this pussy get drenched for me.”

With a shout of his name, your release washes over you, your legs tightening against his shoulders as you clench around his fingers. He works you through the waves of pleasure before slowly withdrawing his fingers.

Joel brings his fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan, eyes fluttering shut at the taste.

“Such a good girl, baby,” he says. You can’t help the little giggle that bubbles up.

“You gonna give me back my panties?” You ask.

“No chance in hell,” he replies with a wink.

________

Joel manages to get the two of you to the restaurant just in time for the reservation, despite the distraction of your sweet moans and delicious pussy.

He picked this restaurant because of two things. One, it had great reviews for their steak and he’s a sucker for a good hunk of meat. He’s a Texan man, after all.

Two, it was a bit more upscale and he wanted to treat you to something nice. He knows you’ve been disappointed that two holidays have come and gone now and he still hasn’t agreed to meet your parents and bring your relationship to the light. But he just can’t shake the feeling that telling them will pop this beautiful bubble that the two of you have created. This whole day has been as much of an apology as it has been a gift.

The restaurant is busy. Most of the tables are filled and there’s a private room that’s bustling with people as well. The hostess walks the two of you to a small table near the bar and he holds your chair out for you to take a seat. The table is set with a number of cutlery he’s not sure how to use on top of a pristine white tablecloth. There’s a candle and a small floral arrangement in the center, the flame throwing a pretty glow over your face.

“This is beautiful,” you comment once the hostess has stepped away with promises that your waiter will be there shortly. “Oh, they have duck!”

The waiter comes by with a wine list. Joel knows fuck all about wine, so he hands it to you, only for you to stare wide eyed at it.

“Joel, these prices are insane!” You hiss when the waiter steps away to let you make a choice. He grabs your hand.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby, but I don’t give a fuck. Pick whatever you want,” he says. You still look uncertain.

When the waiter returns, he takes matters into his own hands, slipping the list from your hands. “My girl wants the duck. What’s the best white wine to pair with it.” He listens to the options and raises an eyebrow at you to pick one. He keeps the list captive so that you don’t base the choice off the dollar amount.

When the food arrives, you chat about anything and everything while you eat. When you’ve set your silverware down, insisting you can’t eat another bite, Joel reaches across the table for your hand, thumb circling the smooth skin of your palm. You give him the softest smile that makes his heart beat triple time.

“You have fun today?” He asks.

“The most fun,” you confirm. You’re about to say something else, but you’re cut off by a loud voice from the other side of the restaurant.

“Joel Miller!” The voice calls. He looks up.

Right into your father’s smiling face.

________

Joel goes tense all over, the grip on your hand tightening as his eyes flick between you and your father approaching from behind you. You stare at Joel with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. If the earth opening up and swallowing you whole were an option, you’d gladly take it.

He stands as your dad reaches the edge of the table, shaking his hand with a strained smile.

“How have you been, Miller? The wife loves that bathroom, sometimes she’ll just stand in the doorway and stare at it lovingly,” he jokes.

“That’s great. That she loves it. Uh, I’ve been great,” he replies. He runs a hand nervously through his hair.

“I don’t want to interrupt your date—,” your dad starts, turning towards you. His smile immediately drops. Your name leaves his lips in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He asks. You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond, but as your dad’s eyes go between your surprised expression and Joel’s guilty one, his brain seems to make the connection. He turns to Joel.

“Joel. Why is my daughter here?” He asks, voice quietly controlled in the same way it is when he’s asking you something he already knows the answer to.

Joel straightens, throwing his shoulders back and keeping his head high as he looks your dad in the eye. “Because she’s my date.”

Your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck do you mean, she’s your date? She’s twenty-three!” He snaps.

“Dad—“

“No, I don’t want to hear anything from you right now.” You feel his words like a slap. “What is this, Miller? Spent all that time in my house and thought you could take advantage of my daughter?”

“Dad! ” You snap. “He didn’t take advantage of me, I’m an adult .”

“You’re still a kid,” your dad snaps back. “And he’s a goddamn adult who should have fuckin’ known better.”

“Dad, please. Stop. We can talk about this later, ” you plead desperately. Your dad gives you both one last derisive look before turning on his heel and storming off, heading into the private event room. “Shit. Fuck. His fucking company Christmas dinner. And it had to be here?!”

Joel stares blankly after your dad’s retreating figure. You place a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Joel?” You ask quietly.

“How about you go out to the truck and I’ll take care of the bill,” he says, eyes looking everywhere but at you. You swallow nervously.

“Why don’t we at least finish dinner?”

He snaps your name, making you flinch. “Please. Just…listen to me, alright? I’ll be out in a minute.”

You gather your purse and make your way out to the parking lot, fighting back tears with each step.

________

After paying the bill, Joel slips inside the private room, eyes scanning for your father. He finds him at a back corner table, head down as he types on his phone.

Joel approaches and takes the seat beside him. When your father looks up, his face drops from welcoming to downright frosty.

“Sir,” Joel starts. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “I just want you to know that I love your daughter. More than anythin’. This isn’t some sick game of me tryin’ to get my rocks off with some girl younger than me. It’s…she’s the best thing that’s happened to me since my own daughter was born. And I’d do anythin’ for her.”

The man doesn’t respond, but Joel sees the tick of his jaw.

“I just thought you should know,” Joel finishes. He waits a beat for the other man to respond. When he doesn’t, Joel stands with a sigh, heading to the truck with a nervous heart.

________

Joel’s quiet on the ride home. He keeps both hands on the wheel and the spot on your thigh where he usually rests his palm is especially cold.

You don’t know what to say. That whole scene in the restaurant was an absolute disaster, one that you were hoping could be avoided by telling your dad about your relationship, but Joel hadn’t been ready. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth, an “I told you so” threatening to escape your lips as you stare out the window.

When Joel pulls to a stop, it takes you a moment to realize that he’s outside of your apartment and not his house. Turning to face him, he’s staring out the windshield with his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t look at you.

“Joel?” You ask. You hate how tiny your voice sounds. “Can…can we please talk? About this?”

His eyes slip shut and he rests his head back against the headrest with a sigh. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about, sweetheart.”

The tears burn as they slide down your cheeks. “Please?”

He turns his head to look at you. “Please what?”

“Please don’t shut me out again,” you beg, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his, resting your head against his shoulder as you shut your eyes tightly against the tears. You can feel him turn and press his lips to the crown of your head.

“Baby…I just need some time, okay? I love you, I swear it, but I just gotta take a breather and think about everythin’, okay?”

You can feel your heart fracture in your chest, your stomach aching as you try to come up with a reply.

“Don’t cry,” Joel whispers. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “Come on, baby, let’s get you inside.” You shake your head against his shoulder. “You’re breakin’ my heart.”

“You’re breaking mine, Joel!” You snap.

He doesn’t reply, and silence has never been quite as loud as this before.

You sit up straight, swiping at the tear stains on your cheeks before shoving the passenger door open. Before slamming it shut, you take one last look at him.

“I love you, Joel Miller. I hope you find it in you to not be a fucking coward and love me back,” you tell him before slamming the door shut.

A fresh wave of tears cascades down your cheeks as you let yourself into your apartment, collapsing against the door as soon as you have it shut.

________

In the truck, Joel sends a text to Tommy letting him know he’ll be home soon and that he can bring Sarah back over if she’s still awake.

He opens the chat thread with you, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He has so much to say, he doesn’t know where to start. He settles on one sentence.

I love you. I’ll fix this.

He opens a new chat thread and finds a contact he hasn’t used since the summer.

Can we talk?

Tag list: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @letsgroovetonighttt @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 4

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,989

Rating: M: violent themes, talk of previous deaths and crime, mention of wolves being violent, some language ... this one's actually pretty tame. Tom is in this chapter, though... so be warned.

Summary: As you continue to settle into Tampa, more falls into place ... until you're hit with a bombshell of a revelation from the last place you expect it.

Author’s note:

Here we are, well into November and it's still spooky season over here. Thank you for sticking with this one, and for being so kind about the first few parts. I'm having a blast writing it - and hope that you continue to enjoy reading it.

If you have any questions or comments or just want to talk about Frankie, please feel free to reach out. I'm SO INTERESTED in any theories you may have about where this is going, too.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

“So if you’ll just sign here, and there, and here…” Tom pointed to different places on the paper, his other hand flat on the tabletop. “And then initial these three…” He sighed, waiting. “And then one more on this final page. That’s it. You’re all set.” 

Wednesday hadn’t worked out for Tom, but on the first Thursday you spent in Tampa, you were sitting in his office, signing your lease. It felt like a step in the right direction, and as you scanned the page before sliding it back toward him, you grinned. “That’s it?” 

“Yeah. You already gave me the cashier’s check, and the owners will forward over the utility bills to you every month as they come in.” He shrugged. “All I need to do is hand you the keys, and you can get out of here.” He rubbed at his chin, eyeing you. “Got someone to help you move in?”

“I have three suitcases and a duffle bag, Tom. I don’t exactly travel with a lot.” He chuckled, holding one of his hands out toward you. 

“Alright. I’ll go get the key, be right back.” He left you at the desk, giving you a few seconds to stare through the partially opened blinds and into the parking lot. It was early enough in the day that you’d be able to take care of your errands and still have time to get out and visit one of the places on your list if you chose to, which made you happy. Because I’m on a roll, especially after the last two days. “Here you go.” 

Tom dropped a set of three keys on front of you, continuing to circle around to the other side of the desk. “Thank you. I -”

“And this is for you, too.” He slid a bottle of wine toward you, a big red bow tied around the neck of the bottle. “Usually I save these for people that close on houses, but since you’re looking for local things to write about …” 

At the sight of the label, you froze, breath catching. How does he know? There’s no way that he … “Thank you, Tom.” You pulled the bottle closer, fingers wrapped around the neck. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? “The winery’s local?”

“Kind of. It’s about an hour away.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling. “My wife’s a big fan. She and her friends go every couple months, and she brings me back a a case or two, so I can hand them out.” He pointed. “That’s one of her favorites.” 

“Howl At The Moon?” You arched a brow, shaking your head. “Interesting name.”

“All of their wines have names like that, and labels to match.” Tom shrugged. “Look the winery up, and you’ll see.” You believed him, letting out the breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I think I’ve got a bottle or two of their white wines back there, if -”

“No. This is perfect, Tom.” Standing, you picked the bottle up by the neck, looking down at the label. More perfect than you know. “Thank you. And now I’m going to go and buy groceries and fill up that refrigerator because let me tell you … living out of that mini fridge in the hotel was a nightmare.” 

Tom’s smile widened, the man clasping his hands together on the desktop. “I’m sure it was. And I hope it goes well for you. Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

“Maybe.” Tucking the wine bottle under one arm, you reached for the keys. “Still waiting to hear back from Frankie about the helicopter, but now that I’m going to be further south, heading back to Ironhead’s is definitely an option.” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the phone on his desk rang before he could, Tom averting his eyes to look at it. Waving, you backed slowly out of the office, listening as the man answered the call just before you closed the door behind you. 

You did plan on going to the store and buying what you needed for the apartment, but more than that, you were looking forward to unpacking all of your research. You needed to see everything laid out - pictures and charts and maps, the lists you’d made in your journals and on loose sheets of paper. It helped you think, and after the discoveries you’d made in the previous few days, you needed every advantage that you could get. 

“Groceries first.” Mumbling the words as you set the bottle of wine down in the back seat, your eyes lingered on the silhouette of the wolf on the label. “And then work.”

— 

Three hours later, you were chewing on the last bites of a sandwich and staring down at the mess on your floor. It was chaotic - papers overlapping, pictures in small stacks, post it notes stuck to everything - but as you eyed each piece, things came together .

You were convinced that what was happening in Florida was what you were looking for. You’d visited two of the murder sites in the previous two days, images from the crime scene photos helping you to find the exact locations where the bodies had been found. It surprised you that the locations were so close to the trails and roads that led through the park spaces. But that had worked in your favor, because it meant that you poking around with your camera wasn’t suspicious. 

The first thing you’d noticed were the gouges in trees nearby. To anyone that wasn’t looking, they didn’t stand out - the marred surfaces of the tree trunks simply looked like breaks in the bark or the marks of bear or big cat claws. But you’d seen the same marks at roughly the same height in both Cypress Creek and Hillsborough River - the marks matching photos that had been passed down from other relatives in other locations throughout the years. 

The second thing was your biggest clue, and you’d dropped to your knees with a gasp at the sight of it, one hand covering your mouth. It was a pawprint, half-hidden beneath a stack of rocks, and you’d only seen it because you were taking a short break, resting on a downed tree stump. 

But when you’d cleared the rocks away - carefully - so that you could see the whole thing, you knew. It was larger than a dog’s paw, and shaped differently than a bear or a panther’s would have been. The toes were elongated, almost like fingers, and the impression of the nail was deep and wide - entirely different from any other animal print than you’d ever seen. 

You’d taken photos - multiple photos, and then printed them up as soon as you were back in the hotel, comparing them to ones that your grandfather had taken … and they matched. 

The print told you a wolf was in the area, but the marks on the trees told you it was the Chaos line … and that meant that finally, you were in the right place. 

Seeing everything together was overwhelming. You’d never been so close before, and even though you knew that you still had a long way to go, it was encouraging. Because I still have weeks before the full moon, and that means I have time. 

You contemplated opening the bottle of wine that Tom had given you, marking the discovery and confirmation with some celebration, but before you could decide one way or the other, your phone rang - and it was Frankie’s name on the screen. 

Grabbing for the device, you took it to the couch and sunk onto it, answering. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Frankie, what’s up?”

“Not much. Just …” You looked around. “Just relaxing in my new apartment.” There was a pause and then you heard him swear, a quick laugh reaching your ear moments later. “You?”

“So we’re neighbors now?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, the man continuing. “Nice. I just finished my last flight for the day, and wanted to let you know that I got approval for a couple of the routes I mapped out. I’ll need to file ‘em the day before we go to finalize everything, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to meet up to pick the ones you like best so we can figure out some dates.” 

“Yes.” Grinning, you leaned forward. “Yes, Frankie. When and where?”

“If you’re in Tampa Heights, you’re on my way home. I’ve got my laptop, so I can bring it there and we can go over … shit, are you even unpacked? I don’t want to - “

“I live out of suitcases, Frankie. I’m unpacked.” Eyeing the mess on the floor, you wrinkled your nose. I will need to put that away though. “How long would it take you to get here?” 

“Donno. I have a couple things to do here before I head out, so maybe a half hour? Forty five minutes?” That was plenty of time - and you told him as much, letting him know that  you’d send over the address as soon as you hung up the phone. “Alright. Sounds good. I’ll see you in a little while.” 

He hung up first and then you texted him the address, telling him he could park behind your car. You got a thumbs up response a few seconds later, and at his confirmation, you started to clean up your research. 

You’d done it so often that packing it away was second nature to you, everything stuffed back into binders and then put into one of your suitcases. You scanned the room one final time to make sure you hadn’t missed anything before replacing the padlock on the zipper tabs, and then you headed out onto the living room again, taking a seat on the couch and chewing on your lower lip. 

You didn’t know how you’d feel seeing Frankie again, but you hoped that you wouldn’t overreact. He’d texted you twice in the previous days - once to ask a question about a list of sites you’d mentioned wanting to see via email, and again to confirm that he’d gotten the reply, but aside from that, there’d been nothing. 

And there shouldn’t have been. We don’t even know each other, and … But part of you had been disappointed, even though he’d warned you that it might be a little while before you heard from him. And that meant that you needed to be careful when he knocked, keeping your expression even and not acting like seeing him was a big deal. Even though it is, because … I want to see him. 

“Get your shit together and keep it there,” you grumbled as you put your head in your hands, taking a deep breath. “He’s just a guy. He’s just a -”

A sharp knock at the door distracted you, and without pause, you were on your feat and heading to answer it. Frankie stood on the front step with a laptop bag slung over one shoulder, a dark green polo shirt covering the upper half of his body and snug-fitting khakis on the bottom. I’m fucked. Look at him. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” He grinned at you, eyes glittering from beneath the pushed-back brim of his hat. “I brought you a housewarming present.” 

“You didn’t have to -” But you laughed when you saw what he was holding, his fingers tightly wrapped around the handle of a travel coffee mug similar to the one you’d taken from his house. Oh, that’s perfect. Reaching out, you took it from his hand. “Thank you, Frankie. Now I don’t have to pretend I forgot where yours is so that I can keep it.” 

“I knew it.” He shook his head. “Thief.” Snorting, you stepped to the side and motioned for him to come in. He busied himself with removing his boots and then entered the room fully, turning around in a circle. “This place is a rental? Nice.” 

“Yeah, it was my favorite of the three.” Gesturing for him to sit, you inhaled. “Can I get you anything to drink? I have a six pack, or some Coke, and there’s bottled water, too. Tom also gave me a bottle of wine, but I’m not sure if there’s a corkscrew in here.”

“Oh, you got one of those?” He leaned back against the cushions, hands resting on his lap. “Which one’d you get? He’s real partial to the chardonnay, but -”

“No, it’s a red.” Reaching for the bottle, you picked it up and held it out to him. “I didn’t look it up or anything, but -” Frankie’s jaw twitched at the sight of the bottle, and you watched his fingers curl, the man making a quick fist before he relaxed. Over a bottle of wine? “It looks like it might be good, so I thought I’d ask.” 

He took the bottle from you, casting his gaze down at the label as he spun it between his fingers. “He picked this for you?” Frankie glanced up, waiting for your nod before he spoke again. “His wife drinks this one. He usually doesn’t hand bottles of this out so I’m kinda surprised.” 

“Well that must mean it’s good.” Reaching out, you took the bottle back from him, eyeing the label. “Did you want me to see if -”

“I’m not really a wine guy.” He wrinkled his nose, clearing his throat. “But thanks. I’ll take a Coke if you don’t mind. Could use the caffeine.” Telling him to give you a minute, you went back and into the kitchen, pulling two cups from the stack in the cupboard, and then turning to the refrigerator. “I’ll drink it from the can, don’t need anything fancy.” 

Of course you don’t. Grabbing both cans, you headed for where he sat, eyeing the man’s open laptop. “Oh, is that Carmen?” He nodded, looking over at you when you sat down, though you kept your eyes on the screen - a picture of Frankie sitting on a beach with a little girl in his lap taking up the whole thing. “She looks just like you, Frankie. Has your eyes and your nose and -”

“And her mother’s attitude.” He bumped you with his shoulder, laughing. “That was this summer. She loves the beach.” 

“I don’t blame her.” You kept your eyes on him, watching as Frankie opened a spreadsheet and what looked like a flight planning software. “You look like you love it, too.”

“I do.” He smiled then, nodding. “So, if you take a look at these …” 

For the next twenty minutes, you and Frankie talked over different options for flights, both along the coast and inland. He explained what each would allow you to see, and when you compared his explanation to your notes, you realized that if you went on two or three of the tours, you’d be able to see most of the places you wanted to, even in the short amount of time you’d be in the air. And anything else, I could always circle back to.

“What are you thinking?” He leaned back, reaching up to resituate his hat, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his arm, the inked skin pulled taut over the muscle beneath it. “Any of these look good?” 

“They all do.” You pressed your lips together, nodding. “You took my lists, and just …” Gesturing at the screen, you shrugged. “You made it work. I’m impressed.” 

“It’s what I do for a living.” He shrugged. “Just tryin’ to make sure my clients get what they want.” Because that’s what I am, just another client, so … of course. “Where do you want to start?”

“What are we looking at cost wise, Frankie? I’ve got a decent budget, but since these are custom flight plans, I -”

“I think I can give you the friends and family discount.” He smiled, shifting so that he could look at you. “And instead of booking things separately, we can do a multi-flight package, either based on the number of flights or overall minutes.” He waved his hand in the air. “Cost isn’t the important thing right now. We’ll make it work.” We will? 

“Are we friends, Frankie?” You sipped your drink, never looking away from him. “I didn’t want to assu-”

“Friends and Family Discount looks much better on the invoice sheet than the ‘We Fucked On The Rug In Front of My Fireplace The First Night We Met Discount’ would, right?” He took a breath, opening his mouth to speak again, but you beat him to it, laughter tumbling from your lips. “What? What did I say?” 

“You know exactly what you said, Catfish.” Briefly lowering your head, you took a deep breath. “But yeah, I guess I agree that one of those memo lines is going to raise a lot fewer eyebrows.”  

It surprised you that he’d been the one to bring the previous night up first, but Frankie had seemed direct - so it wasn’t a shock. “I want to pay you fairly, Frankie. This is your job and I’m basically a stranger, so you tell me what you think is fair, and we’ll go from there.” 

He watched you for a little while, the man’s eyes searching your face, but he stayed quiet. 

In a different situation, you would have leaned in, winding a hand around the back of his head and pulling him closer to kiss him before moving even closer to him on the couch. He would have reached out, fingers running along your throat and then tilting your chin to find just the right angle, the laptop and flight plans forgotten as you utilized the comfort of the cushions beneath you. But that’s not happening. 

Frankie looked away first, releasing a deep sigh and returning his gaze to his computer. “Uh, alright. Yeah. I think we can make that happen.” He closed his eyes, reaching up to remove the hat and set it on the table next to his computer. “Let’s open my schedule and see what I’ve got free.” 

It took another half hour, but you scheduled the first three flights with Frankie - one for that Saturday, one for the following Thursday and then another the following Wednesday - both of you entering them into your calendars so that you didn’t forget. By the time you set your phone down, you were almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of going up in the air with him. 

“Do I need to bring anything? Does it get cold? Should I eat before, or -” 

He laughed - and that time he was laughing at you, but it wasn’t unkind. You liked the way his face looked when he was amused - a dimple on one cheek, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening with the rise of his cheeks, teeth bared in a grin. He’s handsome. And he’s sitting on my couch and … shit. “Bring yourself. I’ll send over a list of stuff that you can and can’t bring with you - and what you should wear, but rule of thumb is just be comfortable.” He wet his lips, his smile turning into a more subdued one. “We’ll do a doors on flight for your first one.” 

“You do flights without the doors?” Leaning in, you widened your eyes. “Well that’s terrifying.” He reached over then, settling his hand on top of yours and squeezing. You dropped your gaze at his touch, mouth opening in shock at the heat and weight of his hand - and how much you’d been wanting to feel it. 

“You’re strapped in real tight.” He said your name, pausing until you’d looked up again. “I check the belts before every takeoff.” That’s something to think about another time, because right now, I … I can’t. “If after 3 trips, you want to schedule more, we can. But it’s harder to plan for weather and all that so far out, especially in hurricane season.” He squeezed your hand again and then released it, glancing down at the watch he wore. “Shit. It’s already late. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay so long.”

“Are you hungry, Frankie?” You spoke without giving yourself a chance to second guess it, pulling your hands back into your lap. “Because I am. And I’m sure there are some great places to eat around here. I’m also sure you know all about them.” 

“You asking me to dinner?” Tilting his head to the side, he arched a brow, smiling at you. “Because if you are, the answer’s yes, and I know the perfect place, as long as you’re looking for cold beer and good pizza.” 

“Sounds perfect.”

— 

“So Benny was in the ring with this guy for a big fight, and we were all terrified he was going to get his ass handed to him.” Frankie picked up his glass, head shaking back and forth as he sipped from it. “Not because he was bigger or anything, but because the guy’s eyes were wild. He was ready to beat the shit out of Ben just because he’d have the opportunity, and all we could do was sit and watch.” 

He’d been regaling you with stories about himself and his friends while you ordered, waited for and then started eating your pizza, and if there was one thing you were learning about Frankie, it was that he liked talking them up. More them than himself, but … still. You liked hearing him talk - liked the way he’d pushed the professional aspect of your connection to the side in order to treat you like a friend, and you wondered if the admission from earlier had sped things along. Seems like it. 

“Did he?” You leaned in, a piece of pizza held in one hand while you eyed him. “Get his ass -”

“No. The power surged and went out, and it threw the other guy way off, so when they finally fought that night, Benny knocked him out before the end of the first round.” Frankie grinned, shrugging. “He used that prize money as part of the bar’s startup with Will, and hasn’t stepped foot into the octagon again since.” Frankie took another drink, his gaze locked on your face. “Took him a couple years to start earnin’ anything, and then when he finally did… he got the fuck outta there while his face still looked pretty enough.” 

“It is a very pretty face.” Arching a brow, you shrugged. “Can’t say I blame him for wanting to keep it that way.” Frankie laughed at that, finally looking away and down at his plate, a few small pieces of crust left there. “What about yours?” He looked back up, frowning. “There’s a scar on your cheek, but aside from that, nothing. I noticed it the other night. Did you get that the same day as your arm?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his expression clearing. “Deep cut.” Reaching up, he ran his fingertips over the thin line on his cheekbone. “It also didn’t heal right, but it’s a little harder to hide that one. Can’t exactly tattoo over it.” 

“I didn’t mean to call attention to it, Frankie. I just -” You idiot. “You mentioned punching, and… we were talking about facial injuries and … I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He reached out, laying a hand over yours and squeezing. “You can see it, it’s fair game.” 

“It shouldn’t be -”

“Stop it.” He squeezed again and then let go, leaning back in the booth and swiping a hand through the unruly curls on the top of his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I mean it.” He winked at you, clearing his throat. “I’ve heard scars are sexy, anyway. So maybe I’ve got that goin’ for me.”

“Definitely.” Nodding as you schooled your expression into a serious one, you winked back at him, “Very sexy, Frankie.” 

That broke the slight tension that you’d created, and for the next ten minutes, conversation drifted back to the easy banter you’d established throughout the rest of the meal. But it’s getting late, and he’s got flights tomorrow… so I need to cut this short. “I know you’re going to have to head out soon, but I do have a question for you.” 

Frankie nodded, finishing his beer and leaning back in, lacing his fingers together on the tabletop. “Shoot.” 

“I need to do a couple hikes and some exploring the area, but I like to do that at different times of the day.” Spinning the straw in your water cup, you paused, taking a deep breath. “I know that realistically I’m not going to get eaten by an alligator as long as I stay on the hiking trails and don’t try to swim in random lakes and rivers, but …” You have to do it. Just do it now. “Frankie, I’ve seen the articles. I know it happens, but there’s been pretty consistent animal attacks in this general vicinity for the last couple month, and I need to do my job, but -”

“But you want to know if it’s safe.” He sighed, the sound heavy, and for the first time, you saw actual concern in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re taking it seriously, to be honest. A lot of people don’t, and they think they can just wander around and it’ll be fine.” Well in most cases it is. But most places don’t have werewolves running around, either. “If you’re hiking during the day, there’s really nothin’ to worry about. The gators are around, but you can see them. And the big cats stay pretty well hidden.” 

“What about at night? Or close to -”

“I wouldn’t do anything alone at night if you’re not familiar with the area.” His tone was even, though the intensity in his eyes was anything but. “Walking around the neighborhood is one thing, but not trails. I wouldn’t camp by myself. I wouldn’t go near any water at night.” He wet his lips, sighing. “Unless you were with someone.” 

“Well unluckily for me, I only know about five people in Tampa, so -”

“Pope’s not workin’ right now. And even Will and Benny take time off.” His smile returned, Frankie’s eyes warming, too. “And I know that I’d personally love to hang out with you more. So if you ever need a buddy, you can ask one of us, and I’m sure we’ll be around.” 

“You don’t even know me, Frankie. Neither do they. It -”

“Bullshit.” He narrowed his eyes briefly, his eyes moving up and down over your face. “I know enough. And if I vouch for you … it’s good enough for them.” Frankie’s declaration made you feel warm, your heartbeat thumping against the inside of your ribcage as you wordlessly stared at him. That would solve a lot of my problems, but it seems to good to be true. I just stumble on a group of guys that are ready and willing to help me out? “No pressure. I’d just hate thinking of you wandering around alone in a place you don’t know when we’re all right here.” 

“Do you think I could convince Pope or Benny to camp with me?” Closing your eyes, you winced. “Probably not Pope because he’s got a girlfriend and that would be weird, but -”

“What about me?” He took a deep breath and held it, staring at you. “We’ve already spent the night together once, so you know there’s no other woman for you to worry about.” Does that mean he wants to spend the night together again? Is he hinting at it? Does he - “Unless you want to get to know Benny better.” 

“No. That’s not it.” You looked away from him, taking a few seconds to scan the crowd before you spoke again. “You have to get up so early for your flights, and I didn’t think a night of sleeping on the ground would be good for your back.” Go for it. Flirt back. Hint. “Even though it didn’t seem to bother you when we were on your floor.” 

You watched his expression change, his eyes darkening at the same time his lips curved upward and into a sly smile. But there was nothing alarming about it - it was just desire written on his features, the man looking at you like he had the other night. Like he wants me. Like that was the right thing to say. “Can I tell you something?” The smile softened, and Frankie reached up, scratching at the side of his head. “We’ve got a camper. None of us use it enough to own one outright but …” He nodded, head cocked to the right. “The bed’s pretty damn comfortable and I think you’d agree.” 

You knew in that moment that you and Frankie would end up in bed together again - and likely not just in a way that meant only sleeping next to each other. And I’m alright with that. I’m very alright with that. “Well that changes things.”  You paused, still eyeing him. “I might have to take you up on that.” 

“Good. That’s why I suggested it.” He glanced down, checking his watch. “I hate to cut this short, but I need to get home.” Frankie chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments and then grinned, flattening his hands on the table. “I have to get up early for my flights tomorrow.” Both of you laughed, Frankie reaching for the check that had been folded and set on the edge of your table. “Dinner’s on me.” 

You opened your mouth to tell him that he didn’t need to worry about it, but decided against it, watching as he opened his wallet and pulled out cash. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want to. “Thank you.” You finished your water, following his lead when he stood up. “I’m sorry I didn’t drive myself, now you have to take me back before you can go home.” 

“It’s a couple extra minutes. No big deal.” You started walking toward the exit, Frankie a half step behind you. “And I’m the one that suggested me driving.” I know, but … He reached past you to open the door, and when you walked by, thanking him, you felt the press of his hand against your back, the touch sending a shockwave through you. 

You hadn’t previously had the kind of reaction to anyone that you were having to Frankie, and even though it alarmed you, it felt right. Remember that this is temporary. If everything went well, you’d be done with your hunt within a few weeks - and able to leave Florida immediately after. But I could stay, and finish the research for the book here. Frowning as you crossed the parking lot, you tried to think ahead. 

If you found the wolf in Florida, it would allow you to close another link between the lower-level wolves and the ones at the head of the Chaos line. But just because I get rid of this one, that doesn’t mean the problem is solved. It was a never ending quest, and you realistically knew that your search for the end of the line would never be realized. But what I do now will help people in the future. Alec, too. And - 

“You alright?” Frankie’s hand was still on you, the man standing much closer than he had been as you approached the truck. “You look like you’re spacing out.” I am. 

“Yeah. Just thinking.” You stopped next to the passenger door, turning back to face Frankie. “I’ve only been here a week, and it feels like everything’s falling into place a little too easily, Frankie.” He nodded, his silhouette backlit by the overhead lampposts. “It’s a lot of work, and I’m a little overwhelmed, but it shouldn’t be anything new to me, because …” Because this has been my life since I turned eighteen, but this is the first time there’s been a you involved. “I don’t want to trust it.” 

“Take it one day at a time.” He moved closer, his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s all you can do, right?” I guess. “You’ve got time. You’re renting that apartment for what, three months?” You nodded in agreement, and Frankie mirrored the movement. “Now that you’ve got a place to stay, you can settle. Get comfortable.” He was right - and you knew it, nodding again as you raised a hand to cover your face. 

“Frankie Morales, the voice of reason.” He snorted, stifling a laugh. 

“Don’t let any of my friends hear you say that.” He reached up, pulling the hat from his head and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans before rubbing at his eyes. “I could stand here talking to you all night, but …” Shit. Right. 

You winced, reaching behind you for the door handle, but froze when you saw the look on Frankie’s face. He was watching you intently, eyes locked with yours - and for a brief second, you thought he was going to lean in and kiss you. And I want him to. I really want him to. It had been simmering between you the entire night - thinly veiled innuendos, flirtatious comments, the casual touching - and in some ways, you thought that maybe breaking the ice with a kiss in the parking lot would have made things easier. Especially if he does it this time. 

But Frankie didn’t lean in.

Instead, you watched as his jaw tightened before he stepped away, circling around to the other side of the truck and leaving you next to the passenger side, your eyes wide and your lips parted in surprise. Well, alright then. 

You climbed into the cab of the truck and settled in, fastening your seatbelt and then closing your eyes. The two of you had established a boundary and he was only sticking to it - you couldn’t blame him. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. 

“What’ve you got going on tomorrow?” He spoke as he pulled onto the main road, eyes on the windshield. “Anything important?” 

“I might actually go to the beach.” You hummed, staring out the passenger window for a few seconds. “Clearwater, I think. The weather’s supposed to be good, so I might as well take advantage of it.” 

“You should.” He nodded, the movement catching your attention. “It’s nice. I really like St. Pete Beach, too, but Clearwater’s a good place to start.” 

“Well then maybe when I go to St. Pete, you should come with me.” You froze even as you were speaking, closing your eyes and wrinkling your nose. Shit. Shit, that sounds … 

“Alright.” He turned his head to look at you, a small smile on his lips. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” Murmuring an agreement, you didn’t say anything else until he was pulling into your driveway, his headlights sweeping over the front of your apartment.

“Thanks for tonight. Nothing like a couple beers and some pizza with adequate company.” 

“Adequate? That all I am?” He nudged you with his elbow, laughter apparent in his voice. “I’m wounded.” 

“You know what I mean.” Shifting in your seat to unbuckle your seatbelt, you laughed. “Seriously, though. Thank you. I think one of the worst parts of this job is how temporary everything feels. Doesn’t matter how much I like a place, I know it’s not going to be forever and I have no real connection to it. This … you are helping it not feel like that this time.” 

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, still watching you. “Anytime.” Do you mean that? “I’ll send over that list for your flight prep tomorrow morning. Look for it when you wake up.” 

“Will do. Goodnight, Frankie.” You paused, taking a breath. “Fly safe tomorrow.” 

“Always do.” His smile widened - and then to your surprise, he leaned in, wrapping one arm around you in a hug. It surprised you but you welcomed it, one of your hands settling against his side as you inhaled again, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. God he smells good. “Have fun at the beach.” He backed away, straightening up, though his hand trailed slowly down your arm, the tips of his fingers dragging over your knuckles. “See you Saturday afternoon.” 

Assuring him that you’d be there, you tore yourself away from him and opened the door, heading for the apartment and putting your hand on the doorknob before you looked back. Frankie was watching you, the light in the cab on so that you could see him clearly. Fuck he’s handsome. Raising your free hand in a quick wave, you waited for his nod before turning back to the front door and pushing the key into the lock and twisting. 

The interior space was dark and quiet, but the scent of Frankie lingered. No, maybe that’s wishful thinking. Rolling your eyes, you locked the door and then headed for the bedroom, deciding that there was no point in pulling your research out again that night, even though it was before 10. I won’t get anything done. 

Instead, you changed into pajamas and got a beach bag ready for the next day, dropping it next to the front door and then climbing into bed. 

You turned the TV on, counting on the glow to help you wind down … but not even fifteen minutes later, you were sound asleep. 

— 

By the time you were shaking the sand off and packing your stuff back into the car the following day, you’d put things into perspective - not only in terms of Frankie, but in terms of the time you were spending in Florida, too. 

The sun and sand had been exactly what you needed to relax and get your thoughts together. It hadn’t been too crowded on the beach, and you’d found a place to stretch out without difficulty, spreading an oversized towel on the sand and sinking onto it. 

You’d drifted off more than a few times, the sound of the waves and gulf breeze lulling you to sleep. But when you were awake you were thinking, your mind working overtime to organize everything going on inside of it. 

Frankie keeping things professional was smart. You’d had your fun with him, and he was easy to flirt with - but it couldn’t be more than that. You still thought that at some point, you’d end up in bed with him again, but it didn’t need to be immediately. There was a physical connection as well as an emotional one - at least on some level - but you were more than capable of keeping things professional, especially if it got you the information and access you needed. 

You’d also considered the locations of the first three cases in Florida, and decided that you needed to focus on alternate choices. You didn’t think the wolf would return to a former site, even though to you, that would have made sense - a single territorial animal defending its habitat was less likely to raise eyebrows than seemingly random attacks throughout the area. But he wouldn’t change the pattern of behavior now. And there are so many other places to choose from. 

It narrowed things down and expanded the list of sites you needed to consider at the same time - but you were confident in your assessment. And once you had the maps in front of you again, you could start to formulate your plan of attack. 

You had a little under 3 weeks to figure things out, and wanted to use as much of the time as possible without working yourself too hard. Because it won’t do me any good to exhaust myself before the full moon. 

Stuffing your bag and the towel into the backseat and giving your legs one final brush off with the palm of your hand, you turned back toward the water, smiling. The sun was beginning set, and you decided to stop somewhere and grab dinner on your way home, leaving one less thing between you and more research. It’s going to be a late night. My flight tomorrow isn’t until the afternoon, so … 

The list from Frankie had been no-nonsense, and you could tell that it was a standard one that he sent out to all clients. But it had still made you smile as you read it, the instructions making it clear that Frankie had rules you needed to follow if you wanted the ride to go smoothly. And I do. 

Before you could get any deeper in thought, you felt your phone vibrating in your back pocket, one hand reaching for it while you opened the car door with the other. The name on the screen shocked you, though - both eyes widening as you scrambled to answer it. “Alec? Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?” 

“I know. I’m sorry.“ He paused, the familiar voice filled with amusement. “And I’m great, how are you?” 

“Busy.” Closing the door, you put the key into the ignition so you could open the window, letting the salt air in. “But good. This is a real … I feel sure about this one, Alec.” 

“Seems like it from the pictures.” He cleared his throat, saying your name. “Are you being careful? I worry about you, y’know?”

“I am. I made a couple friends here and they think I’m just working on the book, but …” You smiled as you thought of the group at the bar, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. “But it’s nice to have company. I got an apartment, too. So I’m not in a hotel anymore and that’s great.” He hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything else. Weird. “Where are you? You should come here. Work this with me. I know we haven’t been in the same place in a while, but it would -”

“I’m actually going to see my mom in the next couple days.” He paused, taking a breath. “I’m in Texas right now. Odessa.” 

“Is there something going on in Texas?” You chewed on your lip, eyes narrowed. “I can’t think of anything that -”

“There’s something going on, but it has nothing to do with …” He trailed off and then sighed. “Nothing to do with what you think it does.” It wasn’t like Alec to be so cagey, and it immediately put you on edge, but you didn’t want to push if he had no interest in telling you what was going on. “I wanted to do this in person, but I don’t think there’s time. Fuck.” 

“Alec? Is everything alright?” Your fingers curled around the wheel, heart rate increasing. “You sound -” 

“I’ve been lying to you. And I hate it, but …” Lying? What - “I’m not working on instinct or just using the information we already have.” He paused again, and you could picture the expression on his face, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m… I’m working with a wolf, the same way our relatives used to. I have been for almost two years.” 

It didn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would, but you still felt a slight sting of betrayal at his lie, your grip on the device tightening. “Just one, or -”

“A pack.” Closing your eyes, you let out a breath. “They’re spread out over western Texas and Mexico and New Mexico, but yeah, they’ve been pretty helpful. They know who I am and what I’m… we’re doing and … they understand.” Of course they do. 

“Good. I’m glad, Alec. I’m glad you have -”

“One of them, Ashley … she’s been with me on a few of my more recent stakeouts. She’s come to different locations with me and has … helped.” 

“Helped?” 

“Some of them can turn at will, depending on the control they have over themselves. She’s one of them. And she… wanted to come. She wanted to help, because she can cover more ground.” It hit you then. The hesitation in his voice wasn’t because he was afraid to tell you about Ashley and the wolves he was working with - it was because there was something else he wasn’t saying. Wait a minute. 

“Are you sleeping with her, Alec? You -”

“I’m marrying her.” You froze, the sound that was coming through the open car window fading as you tried to process his words. Marrying her? He … that … “She’s pregnant. Due at the end of December. And I need to be there with her when she has the baby, because ….”

“Because it might be a wolf.” He agreed, but didn’t say anything else, and for a few long seconds, both of you were entirely silent. I was not expecting that. “Was she … was she born into it, or -”

“She was. So there’s a good chance that the baby will be, too. I think …” He repeated your name, giving you a few moments to think. “I think I might be out after this.” 

It would leave you alone - continuing to look for the source of the Chaos line without any backup, Alec giving up the nomad lifestyle to stick with his family. I can’t blame him. It makes sense. “Congratulations, Alec.” You meant it - your tone only wavering slightly. “You must be excited. Does your mom know?” 

“She knows I’m with Ashley. And mom knows Ashley’s family history, but we’re …. Going to tell her about the baby when we’re home.” 

“So you’re going to Nevada now, and then?”

“She’s going to have the baby in Texas. It makes sense just in case. Mom’s… they’ve already said she can be here with us. I don’t know how it works, but there’s been a couple full moons since we found out, and everything looks good. We had to find a doctor that understands, but …” 

It put things into perspective for you - the fact that there were medical professionals that not only knew of the existence of wolves, but actively treated them, too - and that gave you something else to consider as you moved forward. “If you don’t want me to meet either of them, I understand, Alec.” Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes and gripped the steering wheel with one hand. “Once you’re out of this, it’ll be harder, and you’ll need to focus on them and not on -”

“Of course I want you to meet them.” He laughed, the tension easing slightly. “And if your leads play out in Florida, maybe you’ll have some time free afterward.” 

“Maybe.” You watched as a man and a woman walked in front of your car, their fingers linked tightly together. “Maybe you’re right.” There was silence for a few seconds and then Alec cleared his throat before speaking again. 

“Maybe after we see my mom, maybe … maybe we’ll come to Florida. Ashley might be able to make some connections, and if I can help you close this one out, it’ll…. It’ll be a good way to end my involvement, you know? One more before the kid comes? And you can meet Ash, and …”

“I’ll be here.” You knew that telling him it was unnecessarily dangerous wouldn’t accomplish anything. Alec made his own decisions, and from the sound of it, so did Ashley. “I only have one bedroom in my place, though. Might be a tight fit, even for a couple days.” 

“We’ll let you know.” You heard someone talking in the background on his end, and then Alec sighed again, the sound turning into a quiet laugh. “And that means we’ll probably see you in a couple weeks, just before the full moon.” 

“Keep me updated, alright?” He assured you he would, but before you could begin to say goodbye, your phone vibrated in your hand. Who could that be? Pulling the device away from your ear, you thumbed at the screen, blinking in shock at the sight of Frankie’s name and a new text. “Take care of yourselves, though. We both know how your mom gets when she’s blindsided by news.” 

Alec laughed again and told you he would, the man saying goodbye and hanging up before you did. And then you opened Frankie’s text, chewing on the inside of your lip as you read it. 

We still on for tomorrow? 

“You bet your ass we are, Morales.” You mumbled the words out loud as you typed, assuring him that you wouldn’t miss it. It only took a few seconds for the bubbles to appear as he answered you, his message short and to the point. 

Good. I’m looking forward 

The text was followed by another one moments later, and at the correction - “looking forward to it***”, you actually laughed out loud, leaning forward and resting your forehead on the steering wheel. Oh, Frankie. 

You had a lot to think about, and Alec’s news, though exciting for him, didn’t solve any problems. In fact, it created new ones for you, and meant that for the first time in your adult life, you’d be alone in your search. But he’s not abandoning me. He’s doing it for his family. There’s a difference. 

Eyeing Frankie’s messages one final time, you darkened the screen and then set the navigation to take you back to your new apartment. I don’t need to worry about that now. All I have to worry about is tomorrow. 

— 

When you showed up at Peter O. Knight airport the following afternoon, your mood was less than great. 

It had nothing to do with Frankie and everything to do with the sudden change in the status quo with Alec. You’d lain awake for hours the previous night, running through scenarios in your head and come to only one conclusion: once your cousin left the search, you’d be more alone - and in more danger - than you’d ever been in before. 

Throughout the history of your family’s search, there’d never only been one person looking at a time. Your relatives had started out in pairs, and then as communication opportunities improved, solo searches had become less uncommon, though there was always someone waiting in the wings to back them up if necessary. 

You and Alec had been that for each other since you’d turned eighteen, and the fact that everything would be changing almost overnight was troubling. It was one thing for someone to take a step back because of a relationship or a family - that had happened plenty of times before, but always with adequate warning. And he blindsided me. He blindsided me with a marriage and a pregnancy. 

It wasn’t even that Ashley was a wolf. That fact surprised you, sure, but you knew that if they’d been working together for years, he knew the woman and her family well enough to make an educated decision. She’s not part of the line we’re looking for. Sighing, you shook your head back and forth, eyes landing on Frankie’s truck, which was parked off to the side of a small office-like building. But that doesn’t mean we can stop looking entirely, because they’re out there. 

Taking two deep breaths, you grabbed your bag and then got out of the car, heading for the building. As you got closer, you smiled at the sight of the lettering on the door’s glass, Fly With Fish affixed in big, bold font. 

He was waiting for you inside, the man’s face breaking into a grin as he stood up behind a small wooden desk, extending a hand. “Hey! You’re early, it’s -” But he paused mid-sentence, the smile turning into a frown. “Everything alright?”

You could have lied to him - brushed it off as something that happened in traffic on the way over, or something that had gone wrong with your book research. What came out of your mouth instead surprised even you. 

“Family bullshit, Frankie. My cousin called me last night and broke some news, and it’s just … the more I think about it, the more it sucks.” He rounded the desk without saying anything, and before you knew what was happening, his arms were around you and pulling you closer so that your cheek was pressed to his chest. Oh, he… 

There was no hesitation on his part that day - no attempt to keep himself from being close to you, and Frankie’s hug lingered, both of his hands pressed flat against your back, and yours settled low on his hips. “I’m sorry.” He spoke quietly, but you heard them nonetheless, his hold on you tightening. “Family shit sucks.” 

“It does.” More than you know. Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a deep breath and savored the scent of him - some sort of woodsy cologne with a little bit of spiciness to it - and then you backed away enough to meet his eyes, forcing a smile. “But knowing I had something to look forward to today helped.” 

The man’s lips twitched into a small smile, and you had to fight with yourself not to reach up and tuck a wayward curl behind his ear. But when he winked at you, you couldn’t stop your own grin, your fingers curling briefly before you dropped your hands, Frankie’s following soon after when he released you. 

“Well then, let’s get you up in the air, hmm?” He nodded when you did, holding eye contact for a little longer and letting you watch as the excitement crept into his, the brown warming to a beautiful golden hue as his pupils dilated. “I can’t promise to make everything better, but I can promise you the best damn view of Tampa from above that you could ask for.” 

You were thrilled at the thought of seeing the city - and the coastline - from above, but a larger part of you was much more excited to spend the time with Frankie, getting a better idea of how he looked at everything. And being stuck right next to him for half an hour will make things a hell of a lot better, too.

—

tag list coming soon!

[mitamicah]

Hi guys, I want to talk a bit about what is going on in my life and my plans for the rest of my year. Feel free to just read the TLDR.

TLDR:

I had a consultation with a private clinic in Malmö about top surgery. Went great and have free reigns to suggest a day for surgery. Want to talk with my social worker and contact person first tho.

Celebrated my one year on hrt anniversary being at a heavy music award show.

The rest of November is busy and then Sunday I will be flying to Zagreb – for this reason maybe I won’t be able to draw a lot (which sucks).

December is building up to be busy too yet I’ll try myself to find time to finished owned artworks (mostly the three secret santas I’m in).  

First up, I want to talk my weekend since it was a very special one for me being that it was my second birthday weekend (Saturday I had been one year on testosterone).

When I realized that my favourite Danish band would guest at a local award show for heavy music in Copenhagen, I immediately bought tickets, which turned out to be the best timing, given that I later booked a consultation at Reformkliniken in Malmö for pre-op consultation about potential top surgery the day before.

I slept by my friends’ house, a lesbian couple where one is a transwoman so they’ve experience with surgery especially gender affirming surgery. They had also offered to be my companions at the consultation which I was very grateful for) so the three of us went over the border the next day and had half a day in Sweden together, visiting Folkets park (to see if my sticker was still up – unfortunately we couldn’t find it) and this cute little café before going to the appointment.

Half an hour late we got inside where the surgeon was surprised to see not one but three people step inside. The consultation went well, and honestly better than I’d expected. He was kind, a good listener, factual and thorough. While I maybe should have expected it for a private clinic the fact that there was no waitlist blew me back a bit, yet I ended up asking if it was alright I went back later with a suggestion to a date for surgery. Then we talked to the secretary who was just as thorough if not more about everything I would need to know leading up to the surgery down to little things I’d never would’ve imagined having to think about like not eating specific medicine, wearing nailpolish, washing myself daily for a month leading up to the surgery and much, much more. All wasn’t fun and games though since while I know it was necessary for the consultation, the 2-5 min. of me being topless in front of the surgeon having to describe what I saw shook me up. This is the first time since my ex I have been topless in front of somebody else and I felt my body betraying me a bit almost making me choke on my words and cheer up having to speak. I guess in the end that only goes to show even more why I want/need this surgery. Now what I need to do is print the part of my journal from the gender clinic in Denmark that’s about me wanting top surgery (to send to the secretary) and see if I can set up a meeting between me and the people around me from the local authorities (contact person and social worker mostly) to hear about how to plan a surgery into my schedule. All this by also knowing I still have a second appointment with the gender clinic on December 12.

The next day I went to see my faves and got a bit of a whiplash meeting up as the sole queue member at 5 pm, one hour before the doors. I have been getting so used to go to shows where you need to queue to secure a spot, so I felt very odd sitting out here alone for an hour even more so when everybody I told was shocked, I’d arrived so “early”. Oh, well the award show was good and I got to cling to my band before it began, steal the set lists of three of four performing bands and talk with new, cool people. I even met somebody from my summer camp that was up getting an award together with a band he’d played with as a substitute guitarist.

Secondly, I feel like I haven’t kept you guys up to date about everything so here’s a bit of a rant about my plans for the rest of the year:

This upcoming week will be wild! Before November is over I have one tattoo appointment (tomorrow), one study to participate in (Tuesday), one craft painting appointment with my sister (Tuesday), one concert with my choir (Wednesday), one trans support group meeting (Thursday) and four more days at the internship to go (Monday, Wednesday-Friday). Then on top of that I have a trip to plan since yes, I got approved to have a break on both December 2-4 and December 16-18 so I can go to Zagreb (and Poland)!!!

December starts off with me literally on day one flying to Croatia to spend the first few days in the Balkans. December 2 I have scheduled a trip to Ljubjana just because. Then there’s the Zagreb concert on Tuesday where I have made a sign to go with my homemade t-shirts for the band members (and another sign saying I travelled to Denmark to see them). I think I’ll bring some of my textile markers if in case the guys want to sign my Bluza shirt. But that will not be my priority – my biggest hope for this concert is still to gift them the shirts and then Bojan to see my tattoo. Everything else after that is bonus upon a bonus!!!

After arriving home from Zagreb I will have a week and a half to work and to find out how to schedule Christmas shopping and art making (also having an appointment with the gender clinic and another choir concert inbetween). Then on December 15 I will be flying to Warszawa (and taking the bus to Kraków thereafter) to participate in two of three of Käärijä’s polish concerts. The closer we get to the trip however the less confident I am about my flight choices (the one home is at 6 almost 7 am in the morning) so I hope to use the option of rescheduling the flight to a later time the same day (I purchased a ticket where you could do that but I have to call booking.com and I am not sure the phone number I’ve found is the right one). Other than that I feel like the planning of the polish trip is coming along nicely as well. Then I will go home, work for two days then travel with my sister and her boyfriend to my dad’s house to celebrate pre-christmas with them and then later Christmas with my mother. I still don’t know what to do after December 24 other than my sister want me (and my mom) out before December 28 so to prepare for her having guests over for the new years.

Honestly, I think this might be the busiest Christmas I will have had for a while, so fingers crossed I haven’t bit over more than I can chew signing up for three secret santa events (one luckily running until January).

[nemmet]

i want to break my only-art-posts rule on here for just a moment, to talk about about fred jones as a canon autistic character and what he's meant to me personally.

my childhood love of scooby doo suddenly reawaked back in november of 2021, which just so happened to be around the time i was seriously questioning that i may be autistic. the realisation put so much into perspective, but i was equally afraid and uneasy about it all. therefore, i began to rewatch mystery incorporated as a source of comfort.

and just... there was a character who was a good leader, a loyal friend, a desirable romantic partner. there was a character who represented this unshakeable force of good in a town otherwise founded upon cynicism and spite. there was a character who, yes, was treated as the butt of the joke from time to time. but even despite that, was a surprisingly thoughtful representation of how an autistic teenager might navigate emotions, relationships, and the world at large.

the more i watched of this version of fred, the more i doubted that his sheer amount of autistic traits were purely a coincidence. and sure enough, i discovered that mitch watson (sdmi showrunner) confirmed on the unmasked history of scooby doo podcast that fred was indeed written with autism in mind.

(more beneath the cut!)

for a while, this was knowledge that i celebrated quietly. i told a couple of people who were interested, but that was about it. what mattered most to me was that it was canon, and that this character i had loved since i was a child was just like me. talking too much about his interests, missing social cues, being confused by big emotions... the list went on. it sounds silly to say about a cartoon character, but identifying with fred's portrayal in sdmi (and subsequent scooby media influenced by it) genuinely helped me to accept and even love myself as an autistic person, in a time when i was feeling hopeless for realising what had made me so different all my life.

as i continued to fall down the scooby rabbit hole, i encountered fred moments new and old that would always cheer me up. i decided to compile them into a short youtube video, mostly just for my own self-indulgence. i had absolutely no idea what i was getting myself into (/pos).

over a year on, most notably following the release of the hbo velma series, my video absolutely blew up. to the point where it currently stands at 825k views, which is utterly unfathomable to me. thousands of people who cared about this character like i did flooded the comments, expressing anger at his most recent portrayal and genuine love for his portrayals in past media.

however, the comments that especially made my day were those like: "how did i not realise that fred has a special interest in nets?", "he's autistic, let him infodump!", and those of a similar wording. in that comments section, as well as on tumblr, canonically autistic fred seemed to have become widespread, accepted and celebrated, showcased in comments with hundreds of likes and posts with hundreds of notes. it absolutely floored me, and i was delighted to have contributed to it.

i haven't made this post to pat myself on the back for throwing some clips together and getting a lot of views, nor to say "i knew it first!" about fred being autistic. i am simply looking back in retrospective, and getting incredibly misty-eyed over the fact that people are newly appreciating this character that has helped me through so much and been instrumental in leading me to my official autism diagnosis. you can see the sappy post i made about it on my old scooby sideblog here.

in summary, this is yet another story about how representation matters! even if it comes in the form of a historically overlooked teenage mystery solver from a 50+ year old cartoon franchise. what matters most is that it was more than just a headcanon, and has changed my life for the better.

if you're still reading, thank you so much! if you are also neurodivergent, i would love to hear your thoughts on fred, and if you've also identified with him in some way. he's... a tréasure :)