#part of me is wondering if this is too good to be true

[rin-may-1103]

Delilah's Language (part four)

Previous | Master Post | Next (to be written)

The nice female scientist (whose name Danny can't remember) turned and started leading them through the crowd. Dr. Trynul huffed but stuck close, probably to try and find a way to discredit Danny's ability. (The two brothers followed but stayed silent, just watching with, for some reason, confusion AND excitement.)

Damian turned and looked up (not by much, mind you) at Danny, curiosity oozing off him in purple streaks. "You said they used their whole bodies, could you clarify?"

Danny hummed, tilting his head as he thought about how to, well, not dumb down the explanation, but make it more digestible. The kid was smart, but he didn't need a whole history lesson topped off with social science and cultural themes. That would just be a waste of time, especially during a birthday party.

"The gorilla language, specifically the purple-backed gorilla dialect I know, uses a mixture of gestures and sounds. Somewhere between, like, 75/25 and 85/15. The vocal aspect is used to emphasize." Danny began, nodding his head as he thought it out.

Damian frowned, but green fog floated around his head, showing that he was concentrating on what he was being told and not upset.

"So, a grunt after a gesture could mean it's a statement or fact. Like someone saying they ARE going to do something. A chirp after a gesture could mean a question, like COULD I do this? Unlike human languages, gorillas focus more on straightforward and simple communication. They don't really have any reason to stretch out what they want or need; they just need to make sure the other understands quickly and clearly."

"What, they don't talk about pretty flowers they saw?" Dr. Trynul cut in, rolling his eyes.

"They could," Danny hummed, ignoring the condescending aspect of the question, "they like talking to each other when they have nothing else to do, and they're smart and opininated creatures. they like pretty things, I'm sure they do talk about pretty flowers or leaves they saw."

"Sure, and I bet they also tell each other about how they keep their fur clean and what mud makes them look bad."

Damian was glaring at the man, obviously getting fed up with the interruption. Danny would usually just deal with the man and slowly drive him crazy to the point he leaves Danny alone, but Damian looked like he was ready to stab the guy. (Not like Danny would stop him if he did, but like, Danny should do something about it before that happens.)

Danny glanced at the woman leading them; she was too focused on her conversation with another scientist to be paying attention. which was good, because what Danny was about to do and say was true, but he still would prefer to gather more evidence for an air-tight case. Can't do that if other people wanted to look into it, legally.

"You know," Danny started, clasping his hands behind his back while keeping a straight face. "I wonder if your colleagues would like to know that you've been manipulating your research data."

Dr. Trynul whipped around and glared at him while Damian and his brothers slowed down in confusion and surprise. Danny kept walking.

"How dare you accuse me of such scandalous actions? I should report-" he started, quickly speeding up to match Danny's pace.

"Three papers, released to the public and scientific community. Published under a well-known science journal and written by the one and only Dr. Jake M. Trynul." Danny started, glancing at the large glass tank to the right, where a few otters swam by, gleefully splashing around and having fun.

No one but the four people walking with him was paying attention.

"The connection between environmental factors and animal behavior, Gorillas and the effect humans have on them, and finally, your newest paper, the effects of human and gorilla relationships," Danny listed, ticking them off on his hand.

"I might not be a scientist, Dr. Trynul," Danny smiled, stopping and turning to look at the man, "but I do know how to read data and do the math myself. You have blatantly manipulated scientific data gathered by yourself and your team and falsified finds all so you can trick others and, more specifically, your superiors into investing more money and resources into your research."

Tilting his head, Danny studied the man in front of him, who was flushed red in anger and clammy with nerves. Danny hadn't given any evidence that what he was saying was true yet, but the man still glanced around like someone was going to strip his license right then and there. (Which was evidence enough if you asked Danny, no one got that nervous over baseless claims.)

"You might happen to remember that I had been given the opportunity to help your team with researching and studying Dalilah and her family. An opportunity that allowed access to the team's whole process. Which meant I had access to the unedited and raw data that had been collected. Data, I might add, that I had been required to read through and help collect."

"i don't know how you've managed to do this with so many bright minds on your team, let alone get it past so many others, but i'd like to remind you Dr. Trynul, that if this did get out, with all the evidence I do have, mind you, you'd be in some serious trouble. Not only would your license be revoked but you'd face possible imprisonment. fraud, especially on a federal level, is taken very seriously."

The man gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing for a few seconds before he settled on growling at Danny, "You're lying, you don't have anything. This is libel! I should get you arrested for defamation of character!"

"Oh, bless your heart," Danny held a hand over his chest and batted his eyes, watching as the man grew even more furious. One of the brothers, Dick maybe, choked and started caughing.

"First of all," Danny started, holding up a finger, "libel is written defamation. Slander is oral defamation. Second of all, you can't get me arrested for defamation. You'd have to provide evidence that I had intended you or the public harm. And file the case in a state that deals with criminal libel. which I just said doesn't apply here."

"Third of all," Danny crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow, "I've been collecting evidence for months now. The only reason you're not being interrogated by the authorities and your superiors is that I've been busy with other things. So, I suggest you pack your stuff, go home, and evaluate your life. because I'm definitely going to be submitting my evidence after today."

Well, not right away. Like he said earlier, Danny wanted to collect more evidence. Like, sure, what he had now would definitely get the man in trouble, but Danny wanted air-tight.

Turning away, Danny started walking in the direction their temporary guide had disappeared. Damian and his brothers took a moment but quickly started following.

"holy shit," Tim breathed, glancing back at the seething man. "Do you actually have the evidence, or were you making that up to scare him?"

"I actually have the evidence, but it's back home, so it'll take 'while before I can actually submit it." Danny admitted. now that that was taken care of, he could get back to what he was actually here for.

"Alright, 'nough about him. Y'all wanted to hear about Dalilah and the language." Danny clapped his hands, turning his head to look at the three. The two older brothers looked like they'd rather continue questioning him, but Damian practically lit up in yellow light, all confusion and glee (?) from before disappearing.

"You said they liked talking when they have nothing else to do, do they not typically like to converse?" Damian asked, an almost unnoticeable skip now in his step.

"That's the thing, they talk all the time. They use a more elaborate and obviouse dialect when bored and a more straightforward and instinctual one when busy. It's fascinating." Danny smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, there you guys are!" their temporary guide cut in, "I thought I lost you guys. Come on, Delilah is just up ahead. She's going to be so excited to see you, Danny."

Danny smiled, picking up his pace when Damian (not rushed, because the kid seemed way too formal to do something as 'childish' as running) caught up to her side.

Glancing back, the two brothers were nowhere in sight.

Next (to be written)

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 18!

in which i continue to ignore pretty much any and all 8x14-16 content and spent an impressive amount of time procrastinating. it's been a Week for sure. enjoy the fics!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

begin, then begin again | walkingthroughwindows | 7.4k | E

a fic about them relaxing enough to give each other what they already know they need. i love how this captures both buck and eddie!! so in character, and such lovely hurt/comfort <3

can't leave me alone | 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon | 3.4k | E

“The DMV didn’t have a line,” Eddie says again, taking a step into the room instead of turning around like Buck is expecting him too. If Eddie leaves Buck can take the dildo out of his ass and they can maybe pretend this never happened, or at the very least ignore it for 6 to 12 months, until it’s funny to joke about. such a delight!! so hot, so beautifully written, just perfect!!

divide, conquer and propose? | yimooyi | 3k | GA

Eddie proposes to Buck in Stardew Valley co-op. Buck panics. this is so cute!! i love stardew valley and i love buckett and eds and i love this <3

i wanna be tied tied tied to your apron strings | sibylsleaves/@eddiesprius | 3.2k | E

Buck knows, okay. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he knows. Something about him in an apron turns Eddie into some kind of crazed sex fiend, desperate for Buck’s attention the way Buck usually feels desperate for his. buck wearing nothing but an apron is a vision and i'm so here for it!! love how this captures their dynamic!

in pursuit of good health | lightyears/@bisexualbellamyblake | 6.7k | M

Eddie and Buck start platonically kissing. i saw the summary for this fic and just went yeah you know what these are EXACTLY the type of idiots that would decide to kiss for health benefits lmao. such a wonderful premise for a lovely, lovely fic!!

invisible string, tying you to me | Bexism/@bexism | 17.6k | E

the one where buck and eddie's bodies are linked and they end up sharing injuries and... other things. i love a good body linking fic and this one is just brilliant!! i love the descriptions of how buck and eddie are linked, especially for those other things <3

lover, be good to me | midnights/@roosterseresin | 7.7k | E

in which oranges are picked, muffins are made, and lazy morning sex is had. this fic has the hottest smut but it's also so soft and sweet!! it just has that spring morning vibe, you know? just lovely <3

soy una vela prendida por ti | pairofraggedclaws/@pairofraggedclaws | 8.9k | E

“You cannot mean what I think you mean,” Eddie says. “For old time’s sake!” Buck says. “To remember how it all started.” He kisses Eddie’s hand again. this is part two in a series and part one is also excellent!! such hot fun sweet fics, both of them <3

symbiosis | mandolare/@rainscenes | 9k | E

Buck and Eddie get blackout drunk, and then learn something new about themselves. And each other. i LOVE a good tattoo fic and the premise of this one is just <3 so hot, so very them!!

the rush of slumber party kissing | butchdiaz/@butchdiaz | 3.3k | E

“Okay, Uh—“ he racks his brain for something else Buck has done that he hasn’t. “Never have I ever kissed a man.” Buck doesn't put his finger down, just cocks his head curiously. “Damn, six months without even a kiss, no wonder Tommy left.” Eddie mutters half under his breath. It causes Buck to snap out of his daze and give him a half-hearted middle finger. He’s still thinking, though, eyebrows scrunched together in that adorable way they used to whenever he tried to help Chris with his elementary school math homework. “What, Buck?” “Never?” Buck asks. this was a reread! i love how this captures eddie especially and the dialogue feels so true to character!! so good <3

tomorrow i'll be brave (you make me brave) | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 16.9k | T

In which Buck’s life in L.A. falls apart before it can even begin. He never expects an orange tree to be the thing that changes it all. oh, the way i DEVOURED this au... i love how the characters are written here and how everyone meets and interacts and it's just so, so wonderful!!

[meganwritesfanfics]

How to Save a Life (Dr. Jack Abbott x Reader) Part 5

Word Count: 1931

TRIGGER WARNING: DISCUSSION OF PTSD.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Jack prayed. He wasn’t religious by any means, but he needed a task; he needed something to do as he sat and waited for news. He had been sitting and waiting for hours; he could feel that all of the blood that covered his arms and was soaked into his clothes was starting to dry. But he didn’t dare move.He held Y/N’s necklace in his hands and slid her wedding ring onto his dog tags, they had been brought to him by Garcia, an hour into waiting. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the future he had already dreamed about, and one that at any moment he could find out that he had lost. 

Once Y/N had told him she was pregnant, he could picture the future. He imagined building a crib, the late nights rocking his child back to sleep after they had woken up crying. He had already planned on the play set he would build in the backyard when they were old enough. In his mind his baby was a girl, and he could picture taking her out on daddy-daughter days out. And lord help her when she decided dating. His baby wasn’t even born yet and he could never imagine anyone ever being good enough for her. 

But all of these thoughts were hanging in the balance, he knew the odds of the baby surviving were very slim. The trauma your body had gone through was enough to cause a miscarriage. 

He crumbled, placing his head in his hands. He had always feared that his life with Y/N was too good to be true. Jack couldn’t imagine he would ever find someone as wonderful as Y/N. She was the light to his dark, she was the sweet to his sour, she was the day to his night. People were often surprised they were together, not just because of the age difference, but also because of how different of people they were. But somehow she fit with him perfectly. 

She brought out happiness in him, he thought he had lost long ago. And she knew how to calm him down when he had bad days. He loved the quiet moments with her the most. On the rare times when they both had days off, he loved just being in her presence. He loved when she cuddled up next to him while he watched sports. She would sit with her book in her hands but her head rested on his shoulder. She didn’t even have to say anything to be a comfort to him. 

“Jack,” A voice brought him out of his thoughts and he snapped his head up to see Robby standing in front of him tears in his eyes. 

“Is she…” Jack asked terrified as he got to his feet. 

“She’s fine, they said everything went really well. She going to be just fine.” Robby said his voice cracking. 

Jack let out a cry. “She’s ok.” He sobbed. 

“She’s ok.” Robby said and he pulled his friend into a hug. 

“Wait,” Jack pushed back. “The baby, what about the baby?” 

“That baby is stubborn as hell Jack, it is definitely your kid. Everyone is calling them a miracle baby. I told them of course they survived, that baby is an Abbott.” 

“Oh thank God.” He cried pulling Robby back into his arms 

“They said she should be waking up shortly if you wanted to go and see her.” 

“Yes! Thank you Micheal. Thank you so much for everything. I owe you big time.” 

“You know Micheal is a great name for a baby. Could do Michelle if it’s a girl.” He teased as he gave Jack a pat on the back. 

Jack laughed as the two of them walked towards Y/N’s room. 

They had just walked in, when they could see Y/N stirring. 

“Baby,” Jack said as he rushed to her side. 

“Jack,” She murmured as she started to try to sit up. 

“Y/N, you need to take it easy. Just stay laying down.” 

“The baby, Jack the baby. Please tell me…” She started to panic reaching out for Jack’s hand.

“The baby is just fine. Robby called her a miracle.” 

“I did not use the word miracle.” Robby insisted. “I just called her an Abbott. 

“Her?” Y/N smiled. 

“Jack’s convinced it’s a girl.” 

“You are?” Y/n said as she looked up at him. 

“Call it intuition I just feel like that’s a little Michelle in there.” He said as he placed his hand on her stomach. 

Y/N laughed. “Did Robby convince you to name our baby after him?” 

“I just added some suggestions to the conversation.” Robby smiled as he walked over to Y/N’s bedside. “I have to head back, but I’m so glad you are ok. I can’t be down one of my best residents.” He kissed her forehead. 

“I’m going to tell Langdon you said I was one of your best residents.” She smiled . 

Robby laughed. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“Are you ok?” Y/N asked. 

“You scared the shit out of me Y/N.” Jack said his voice cracking. 

“I didn’t think he would actual hurt me.” She said her voice cracking as she gripped his hand tighter. 

“I’m so sorry, I should have gotten you out of there, I was trying to figure out a way to get you away from him but I…” 

“Jack,” She quickly placed her hand on his cheek. “Don’t do that, I know you want to blame yourself but don’t you dare.” 

“I could have lost you Y/N. We did lose you for a while. And it was the closet to hell I ever want to come.” He sobbed as he leaned forward and placed his head on her hand. 

“Oh Jack,” Y/N said as she reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s ok baby, I’m here.” 

It took a while for Y/N to recover but the minute she was given the go ahead, Y/N was begging to go home. She missed their house, she missed Cooper and she missed being able to fall asleep in Jack’s arms. Jack had taken off 2 full weeks to help make sure Y/N could get all settled at home, although he fully planned on taking off more, terrified that if he left her alone, she may completely vanish. 

Jack had brought her some comfy clothes for her to leave the hospital in, it included her favorite t-shirt of his to wear, and her favorite pair of sweatpants. Both smelled so much like Jack and their home that Y/N felt like she could cry. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that her life has almost ended, and she had almost lost everything. 

She tried to pretend she wasn’t affect deeply by the shooting, but Jack could see that she was jumping at every small sound and her eyes were quickly checking her surroundings whenever they went into a different room. She looked just like him. 

By the time they made it out to the car, Y/N’s hands were shaking, she kept expecting to see Driscol turn the corner waiting for her again. 

“Y/N,” Jack said as he helped her into his truck. “Talk to me, what’s going on?” 

Y/N sighed as she reached her shaking hands out to grab his. “I’m so scared Jack.” She said her voice breaking. “I keep thinking something is going to happen, I’m terrified of someone hurting me again or god forbid someone hurts you.” 

“Oh baby.” Jack said as he grabbed her face in his hands. “I am never going to let anything happen to you again I promise. And you don’t have to worry about me, nothing is going to happen to me.” 

“You can’t know that for sure. It was such a normal shift before Driscol showed up. And hell you know that people are just getting more violent. I don’t know how I am supposed to go to work and pretend like I’m not watching my back everytime I work with a patient. And I’m going to lose my mind everytime you go to work, I’m terrified you won’t come back.” 

He recognized and empathized with everything Y/N was saying. It was fears that were already filling his head. He knew that he would be panicked the whole time Y/N was at work, afraid of losing her again. But seeing Y/N having the same fears, really showed Jack how unhealthy and devastating those thoughts were. 

“Y/N, will you consider going to therapy with me. I am feeling the same fears, hell you know I already don’t want you to work while you are pregnant, but I know that you would go absolutely insane without anything to do. I think it would be good for us to talk to someone. I can talk to Dr. Cody and see if he has a couples therapist he can recommend, or if you would rather have someone to talk to by yourself I can see if he can recommend someone for you as well.” 

Y/N leaned into Jacks hands as she brought her hands up to grab his wrists smiling. 

“When did you become so wise?” 

“Someone told me once that you can’t just keep all of your thoughts to yourself, sometimes you have to share them with others, so that way they don’t eat you alive. She was far wiser than me.” He smiled as he pulled her in for a long kiss. 

“Let’s go home.” Y/N said and Jack about ran to the driver’s side of his truck so ready to have her back home. 

As they pulled into the driveway, Y/N as she saw the banner that was hung on the door. It read Welcome Home Y/N. 

“Who…” She started as she looked at Jack tears in her eyes. 

“Dana got Harrison Mckay and Tanner Langdon to make it for you.”  Jack smiled as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. 

“I just…” She said. “It’s beautiful.” 

He quickly hopped out and rushed to her side. 

‘I’m so happy your home baby,” He said as he helped her walk from the car to their front door. 

She could hear Cooper parking through the door, and she couldn’t help but beam. 

“Aww Coop, I missed you too.” She smiled as Jack opened the door and Cooper came barreling at her. 

“Cooper, be careful.” Jack laughed as he bent down to give Coopers some good petss

“He’s ok, he just missed his mom.” Y/N said and she leaned onto Jack so she could pet Cooper. 

“Y/N,” Jack said hesitantly wanting to make sure Y/N didn’t hurt herself. 

“I’m ok Jack. I’m better than ok, I’m back home with my boys.” She smiled. 

“Let’s get you sitting down, Doctor’s orders.” He said as he ushered them towards the couch. “Why don’t I put on one of those trashy tv shows you like.” 

“Hey don’t call them trashy, you know you love them too.” She smiled as he carefully helped her onto the couch, pulling her into his arms. 

The minute they were sat on the couch Cooper came bounding up, snuggling right into Y/N side his head laying on her stomach. 

“He is so ready to meet his sister.” Y/N smiled as she gave Cooper some good scratches.  

Jack couldn’t help but smile, so happy to have Y/N back home and safe in his arms. 

Taglist: @rosewritesitout, @brnesblogposts @emma8895eb @qardasngan @keileighr

[theseinfernalangels]

How do you feel about 28 with Bodhi? :)

28: One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

You hike your scarf up your face with a grumble, the cold of the December night practically seeping through your clothes. It’s not like this is your first night shift of the cold months, but tonight was too chilly. 

Maybe someone pissed off an ice wielder.

You trudge through the winding hallways that lead to the Third-Year dorms in search of one — who you know will let you in without a second thought. In what feels like hours of monotonous walking, you finally find the room you’re looking for. You barely set one knock against the mahogany door before it swings open and you’re pulled inside by a warm, steady hand.

You let out an undignified squeak at the sudden movement, stumbling into the room and feeling the instant relief of warmth and the smell of cinnamon. You don’t have to look up to know that he’s probably laughing at you.

Unbuttoning your flight jacket, you sigh. “Thank you.”

Bodhi’s usual little grin makes your heart do a little dance in your chest. “You look like you’re one step short of hypothermia, sweetheart.”

You shrug off your jacket. “I feel like it,” you complain. “Gods above, it’s got to be a bad day for Ridoc or something, because I don’t think it’s ever been so cold in these parts.”

He reaches out and grabs your arm, steering you to stand in front of him. Gently, he wraps his arms around your shivering frame, resting his chin on your head. “Well,” he murmurs. “It’s a good thing it’s always warm in here.”

That was true. Bodhi Durran was the human equivalent of the fucking sun, always warm and bright and easy to be around. His little quirk was a tragedy in the summer, when the sun beat down on Basgiath in a way that felt close to dragonfire, but in the cold months, it was a damn miracle, and you make sure to let him know that.

“You’re a little miracle,” you say, your gloved hands twisting into his tunic. “Tidwell from Second Wing is a fire wielder, but he wouldn’t share with the rest of us, the selfish prick.”

Bodhi snorts and pulls away to look at you, still mostly covered from head-to-toe in your leathers and warm gear. “I can imagine,” he replies, pushing your scarf down with one finger to free your mouth. His thumb brushes against your lower lip softly. “Beinhaven likes all of her little cronies to be just as bitchy as her.”

His finger dips a little into your lips, chapped and slightly cracked from the chill. His smile drops into a pout. “Your lip is bleeding.”

Your tongue sweeps along the crest of your lip, narrowly missing his finger, and you wince at the metallic taste. “The temperatures are trying to sabotage our alone time.”

You hear him emit a little chuckle as his hand leaves your mouth to cup your chin, tilting your head up closer to his. “They can try,” he says, emphasizing the last word, “but they’ll never succeed.”

With that, he lowers his head and slants his mouth onto yours, claiming the space — blood and chill and all. Instantly, you’re filled with a feeling that replaces the cold: Warmth. Light. Joy. Everything is purely Bodhi, and it does wonders to expel the previous discomfort that had settled deep in your bones.

You hum softly. “You’re good at that. Warming me up, I mean.”

He pulls away, flashing a mischievous smirk. “I know. I can do more than that, if you’d like.”

He whines when he’s met with a flustered punch to the shoulder. “Hey!” He protests. “Not fair. I’m just doing my boyfriend duties.”

You scoff. “Save your boyfriend duties for a time when we don’t have to be up at five in the morning. We’ll both wake up with migraines if we stay up any later.”

The taller boy just shrugs and pulls you back into his chest. “Worth it. At least we’ll both be warmer than the rest of the quadrant.”

“That, we will be,” you agree, tucking your head into his neck. “That, we will be indeed.”

[inkandstardusts]

honey i laugh when it sinks in, pt ii

summary: Patrols with Joel are usually always the same. He leads and you follow. It's what works. Until one night when you confess far too much and it opens up a can of worms that neither of you can seem to put away.

part ii of ii

part i can be found here! part ii follows part i so i do recommend reading it if you haven't.

word count: 4.8k

rating: explicit

warnings/tags: smut, first time, romance, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel is early 50s), reader is AFAB but with no other descriptors

a/n: finally got to writing part 2! i haven't edited this yet so excuse any errors/mistakes. i didn't intend for this to get as sappy as it did but i do hope it still stays true to characterizations. as always, please let me know your thoughts!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The dining hall is fairly quiet this morning. You’re grateful since you were hoping to distract yourself from the continuous thoughts of Joel you’ve had since he made you that offer on your porch almost two weeks ago. You haven’t had a chance to see him since. Your patrol schedules haven’t aligned and he isn’t really the one to socialize all that much but somewhere in your heart, you wonder if it’s on purpose. Whether he regrets his offer and is avoiding you until it blows over. The chances of that happening though, are basically zero. You’ve thought about what he’s said since the minute he started walking back home that morning. Whenever you have a spare moment, you ponder it in your mind. What his hands would feel like on you, how his beard would feel against your neck, the sort of sounds he’d make. It’s like you’ve been infected with some sort of horny virus that’s hyper-specific to Joel Miller. You haven’t even told Maya about it yet, worried that it would be pointless if Joel really has regretted saying anything to you. 

Which is exactly why you woke up this morning, grabbed a battered version of The Count of Monte Cristo you had found on a run a few weeks ago, and decided to read during breakfast. You’ve never been one to mull over men but Joel Miller has somehow wormed his way into your mind and at this point, it’s sort of frustrating having to distract yourself from thoughts about him. You’re just starting chapter three when someone clears their throat. You look up to see Joel Miller standing in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. He looks vaguely uncomfortable. You can feel your face beginning to warm up. 

“Joel,” you greet, giving him a nod.

“Mornin’,” he says, sounding rather gruff. His cheeks are flushed, probably from the cold air and his hair is just long enough that it curls around his ears. As always, he looks as handsome as ever. 

“Can I sit?” he asks and you do your best not to look surprised as you nod. You think you might look a bit like a deer in headlights. He takes the seat across from you, his broad frame filling the space in front of you. 

“I just wanted to apologize,” he says and you can feel your brows furrow. “For what I said that mornin’ on your porch. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

Now, your eyes do widen. You’re about to interrupt but he keeps going.

“I realize that it was probably odd for you, havin’ me come in and offer something like that. Like I said, it’s none of my business and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do somethin’ you don’t wanna do.”

“No,” you say, abruptly. His brown eyes widen a bit and the pitch of your voice. You realize how loud you must have sounded and look around to see if anyone is looking at the two of you. Thankfully, the dining hall is still mostly empty save for a few people scattered around. 

“What I mean is that you didn’t,” you say, looking back at Joel and speaking softly. “Make me uncomfortable, that is.”

He nods, looking relieved but not convinced. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” you agree. And then you begin to ramble, like you always seem to do when you’re having a conversation with Joel Miller. “I want to take you up on your, um, offer. I just haven’t seen you around and I didn’t know if it would be weird to like, knock on your door and say ‘Hey Joel, can we have sex please?’ y’know? I guess, I didn’t really know how to proceed and I’m sorry if it seemed like I was disinterested - ”

“Hey,” he says, cutting you off. “Take a breath. And stop apologizing. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. If anything, I might have overstepped.”

“You didn’t,” you say, quickly. “You really didn’t.”

There’s a pregnant pause and then he nods, before standing up. He’s leaving? But you haven’t even figured out what to do next.

“I’m glad,” he says.

“You’re leaving?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed. You see the corner of his mouth twitch in a maybe smile. 

“Have patrol,” he says, although he sounds a bit reluctant. 

“Oh,” you say. Then you bite the bullet. “So when can we?” 

You watch him flex his hand, the muscles moving beneath the sleeve of his flannel. 

“Whenever you want,” he says, voice serious. “Just knock on my door and say Hey Joel, can we have se-”

“Okay,” you say quickly, cutting him off. Your cheeks feel warm and so do your ears but you’re pleased that he cracked a joke. He smiles then, not just a twitch of his mouth or a ghost of a dimple but a real smile. There just for a second before it’s gone again. 

“I mean it,” he says. “Whenever you want. If you want.”

“I do,” you say, again far too quickly. He nods, and now his eyes are dark as they trace over you. “What about today?”

“I’ll be back from patrol at sundown,” he says. “I’ll come to yours ‘round nine, if that’s fine for you.”

You nod, clearing your throat and suddenly feeling warmth in the pit of your stomach. “Fine with me,” you agree. “I’ll see you then.”

He nods before he turns around. You try not to watch his retreating figure but your eyes trace over his broad shoulders and his back, how long his legs are and how sure of himself he seems. You feel a flutter in your stomach and look around to make sure no one saw you ogling Joel Miller. 

Nine p.m. can’t come soon enough, you think as you try to resume reading your book.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

There’s a sharp knock on your door exactly at nine. You smile as you walk towards it. Joel is never late, not for patrol and now not for this. When you open the door, he’s standing there, looking cold. You step aside.

“Come in,” you say and he does, taking his coat off as he walks through the threshold and then Joel Miller is in your house. You both look at each other and he clears his throat.

“How are you?” he asks. You want to say that you’re better now that he’s here and that you’ve spent the better part of your day thinking about this very moment but instead you smile, shrugging.

“Fine,” you say. “How was patrol?”

Joel frowns. “S’awful. Paired up with some new kid that never shot a gun and thought doin’ so right as we entered the perimeter would be a great idea.”

You wince, scrunching your nose. You can empathize with him. You were once paired with an eighteen year old that thought it would be hilarious to shoot at a skittish deer only for a clicker to come out nowhere and tackle him. You had managed to kill it somehow but your hands had shaken the whole day after that.

“That sucks,” you say. “Bet you missed being partnered up with me.”

You mean it as a joke but he doesn’t smile. 

“You’re a good patrol partner,” he says, voice serious. You snort. 

“I just follow orders,” you say, shrugging. He shakes his head.

“There’s that. But you’re also vigilant, and you’re good at spottin’ things and thinkin’ fast,” he explains. He sounds genuine and you feel yourself flush.

“Thanks Joel,” you say. He nods and then looks around your living room. It’s warm from the fire you had going and you’ve done your best to try to decorate it with trinkets you’ve found on runs and around town. It’s cozy and some part of you hopes Joel thinks so too.

“S’nice,” he says when he looks back at you. You smile, gesturing for him to sit down on your couch.

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask and he shakes his head. Suddenly, tension creeps through the room and you can feel your palms beginning to sweat. Now what? Do you just climb on his lap and beg him to fuck you? Or do you ask? The first option seems desperate although at this point, you truly are desperate for him. And the second seems far too serious.

“Why do you wanna do this?” he asks, cutting through the silence, and it’s definitely not what you’re expecting. Your mind blanks for a second before you realize you have to answer him.

“I just do,” is the first thing out of your mouth. “I mean, I want to do this. And I trust you.”

He nods, seeming satisfied with your answer. 

“Alright,” he says. Then he spreads his legs further and taps his left thigh. “C’mere.”

You stand up immediately, and walk towards him, standing between his legs. He wraps one large hand around your wrist, tugging you so that your knees brace around his thighs. You’re straddling him. You’re straddling Joel Miller. Your heart starts pounding in your chest and you take a breath, trying to calm your nerves. You settle so you’re more comfortable. This close you can smell the scent of the soap he uses and something else, more woodsy.  He takes your chin between his fingers, making you focus on his eyes. 

“We stop whenever you wanna stop,” he says, serious. His eyes are so dark now, you can barely see the brown around his pupils. 

“Or you,” you say, voice breathier than it was a few moments ago. You’re pretty sure your heart is beating at a mile a minute. Joel smiles, a real smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle and you want to kiss him there.

“Don’t think I’m gonna wanna stop,” he says, voice lower. 

“Me neither,” you say, leaning towards him. When you kiss him, something warm cracks open in your chest. You feel him pull you closer, his hand gripping your hips. You open your mouth in a moan and feel his tongue run across your bottom lip. You’re gripping his shoulders so tight that you’d probably leave marks if he was shirtless. You’re not sure when you started rocking your hips against him but he stills you with his warm hands, squeezing your hips. You whine, biting at his bottom lip as he pulls away. 

“Joel,” you say and you’re surprised by how needy you sound. “Please.”

He chuckles. “Tell me about that dream of yours,” he says. It’s not what you’re expecting and if you were any less turned on you’d probably be embarrassed.

“Really? Right now?” you ask. “Feel like there are better things we could be doing.”

“Humour me,” he says. His eyes trace over your face and you shift slightly in his lap, feeling how hard he is beneath you. You move your hips a bit more before he stills you, squeezing your hip hard enough that you hope there’s a bruise in the morning. 

“Um, well, it was sort of like this,” you start, curling your arm across his upper back. You like how you can feel the muscles move as he shifts. “And you were sort of,” you pause here, suddenly feeling shy.

“I was sorta what?” he asks, voice soft. 

“You were touching me,” you say, voice breathy again. His hand skates across your torso, lifting the bottom of your shift so the tips of his fingers brush just below your belly button. 

“Like this?” he asks and you shake your head. You take his hand, pushing it below the elastic of your cotton pants so that it rests right above where you want him the most. You’re so wet he can probably feel it through your underwear. You shift again, looking for more friction.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he says and you moan. He rubs you through your underwear and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. “S’all I did?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“What else?” he asks and his mouth brushes against yours. You kiss him and he allows it, sucking on your tongue before he pulls back, just a fraction so that your mouths are separated. 

“You put your fingers in me,” you say. He hums, looking pleased. He pushes your underwear aside, and the direct contact of his finger against your clit has you bucking your hips. He shushes you, before petting you some more.

“Joel,” you moan. “Inside me, please.” 

You’ve gone past caring if you sound desperate. You need some part of him in you right now or you might just combust. He answers your pleas by slipping his middle finger in and curling it just so perfectly. You clench around him and he grunts. It’s thicker than your own fingers and the feeling of being full isn’t lost on you. You shift your hips, greedy for more. 

“You’re so tight,” he says and he sounds like he’s trying to contain himself. “Fuck,” he says and you moan. You can hear the wet noises of his finger moving inside of you and then you feel a second one prod at you. You widen your knees to give him better access and he tucks his head against your shoulder, kissing at the soft skin of your neck. 

“You’re dripping all over my wrist,” he says as you keep moving your hips. Your head tilts back, eyes closing in pleasure. You’re so close, you can feel it in your fingertips and toes. Suddenly, he stops and you make a noise of protest.

“Joel,” you say and he’s lifting you off of his lap before shifting you so you’re flat on your back on the couch. 

“Can I take these off?” he asks, gesturing to your pants. You nod, still dazed. He tugs them off quickly, tossing them aside. 

“Need to taste you,” he says, before he’s pushing your knees apart and settling himself between them. You should feel exposed. You’ve never been in front of a man like this. But somehow, you don’t. You trust Joel. And right now he’s looking at you like you’re the loveliest thing he’s ever seen. He looks right at you as he lowers his face and licks from your clit and all the way down and the noise you let out is so loud you hope for her sake that Mrs. Alvarez is asleep. 

He keeps watching your face, as he presses his nose against your clit and you can’t even find it in yourself to feel embarrassed as you grind your hips against his face. Joel makes a noise, almost like a grunt and then you feel his tongue inside of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch your back. You must look possessed, but you don’t care. This is better than any dream you’ll ever have. He replaces his tongue with his fingers and then does some sort of combination of the both that has you bucking your hips.

“Joel —” you start and when he curls his fingers, you moan before you can get the rest of your sentence out. He hums against you. You can feel it building inside of you, like a giant wave about to crash against the shore. You try to warn him again. 

“Fuck…Joel I’m — I’m gonna come,” you finally get out and if anything, that spurs him on. He curls his fingers again, this time rubbing against that part inside of you that you can never reach because it cramps your wrist. You slide a hand into his curls, tugging as you arch your back and let go. It’s so intense you can feel your thighs shaking around his head, but his steady hands grab both of them, holding them still. When you come back to yourself, you open your eyes to find him sitting on his knees, watching you. His mouth is pink and wet, his cheeks flushed red. 

“Did you like that?” he asks, and it doesn’t sound like a line. He sounds genuine. Which is why you laugh. You see his brows furrow but his mouth twitches in a smile.

“You just made my legs shake and I’m pretty sure I sounded like a cat in heat at some point and you’re asking me if I liked it?” you ask. He smiles but there’s something predatory in his eyes. You feel yourself clench around nothing. 

“Have to make sure,” he says, voice warm. He shifts, and that’s when you notice the bulge in his jeans. You reach forward, ready to unbutton his pants but he wraps both your wrists in one of his hands. 

“We don’t have to,” he says. You snort.

“I think it’s sweet that you’re such a gentleman Joel, really. But I really want to,” you say. He traces his eyes over your face, almost like he’s cataloguing every aspect of you. He reaches a hand out, finger moving gently under your eye. 

“You sure?” he asks, resting his hand against your jaw. You reach for his hand, tugging it so that his thumb settles against your lower lip. You open your mouth, touching the tip of your tongue to the tip of his finger.

“Please,” you say again, looking right at him. He takes a deep breath. 

“Alright sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll give it to you.”

You reach for his pants again and this time he lets you unbutton them. Before you can take him out, he stops you. He runs a finger along the bottom of your shirt and you understand. You sit up, taking it off, leaving you in your flimsy cotton bra and nothing else. 

“Your turn,” you say and he smiles. He reaches for the back of the neck of his shirt, tugging it off in one quick movement. Efficient, as always. It makes you smile. His chest is golden and solid, and you trace your hand across his sternum and down to his stomach. He’s strong everywhere. His arms are corded with muscle and his shoulders are so broad that you want to bite into them. 

“I’d let you,” he says, voice amused. It’s then when you realize that you said this out loud. You flush, feeling your face heat and he chuckles. You lean back as he tugs at his pants before he stops, as if suddenly remembering something.

“We should do this in your bedroom,” he says. That’s when you realize that you’re still in your living room, almost naked on your couch. You nod, standing up. You feel a little ridiculous, naked from your stomach down and it’s like Joel can read your mind. He tugs you so that your back is against his warm chest and you can feel his belt buckle at the bottom of your spine. 

“S’alright,” he says. “It’s just me.”

His voice is warm and gruff, and you lean into it. He presses a kiss against your neck before nudging you gently. You take that as your signal to lead the way. He stays close behind, so close you can almost feel the heat of him as you lead him to your bedroom. When you enter, you cross quickly to turn on your bedside lamp so that the room is lit in a warm glow. You turn around and find Joel watching you with dark eyes. You walk so that you’re on the edge of the bed, before you sit down. He walks towards you, slipping a hand into your hair so that he’s cupping your head. He leans down and kisses you, tongue probing into your mouth. You allow him. You grab at his shoulders, nails digging into the strong muscle there and he grunts against your mouth. You’d let him do anything to you at this point. He tugs at the straps of your bra, before he reaches behind and undoes the clasp. He leans back and looks at you, eyes wide. He moves his hand so it’s right at the top of your ribs, running a finger along the skin there. He pushes you so that you’re lying down with your legs on either side of his hips. He finally tugs his pants off, quickly followed by his underwear. 

You’ve never needed something inside of you so badly until now. You shift your hips, opening your legs even wider. You reach forward, running a finger down his cock and he grunts. 

“Fuck,” he says. You wrap your hand around him, and he’s so warm. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, and he nods again, jaw clenched. He wraps his hand around yours, showing you how to move it. You’ve always been good at following his instructions. His hips shift and suddenly he’s tugging your hand away. 

“This’ll be over a lot quicker if you keep doin’ that,” he says, and he looks a bit embarrassed. You’re so endeared. You lean back, settling on your elbows and he holds himself at his base before moving closer to where you need him the most. When his tip touches your clit, you moan, shifting forward. 

“Please,” you beg and he grunts. 

“We have to go slow, sweetheart,” he says and you know he’s right but you feel possessed with need. 

“Joel — please. I need it so bad,” you whine. 

“Yeah?” he asks, rubbing himself across your slit. You nod and he leans forward, kissing you filthily. He pushes the tip in and it feels like too much and not enough all at once. You both look down to where you’re connected, how you’ve opened up for him so well. You moan, shifting forward, trying to inch more of him into you. He pushes in a bit more and you’ve never felt this full in your life. It’s like he’s splitting you open and you can’t get enough. 

“It’s so much,” you say, but you’re still shifting forward. Joel grunts, forehead pressed against your neck. He finally bottoms out, both hands gripping your hips so tight that you think it might bruise. You hope it does. 

“Just a second,” he says. “You’re so tight sweetheart.”

You flush, smiling. You run your hand down his arm as you get used to the stretch. It stings a bit but for the most part, it feels amazing. Like something you’ve never experienced before. 

“Good?” Joel asks, after a pregnant pause. He’s above you now, and you can tell how desperate he is to move. You nod. He pulls back before thrusting in again and you moan. You can feel yourself get wetter and so can he, judging by the noise he makes. 

“You’re perfect,” he says, moving. “S’fuckin’ perfect. Been thinkin’ about this for months now, and I get to have you.”

You’re too drunk on the feeling of him inside you to respond to the revelation. You moan, moving your hips in tandem with his. His hands tighten on your hips, and he pulls you closer. His arms flex with every thrust and he looks so beautiful like this, face flushed red and the greying curls of his hair sticking to the back of his neck. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you say and he thrusts into you harder. One of his large hands moves from your hip so that it presses down right below your belly button. The pressure feels so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You mewl as his hand moves lower until his fingers circle your clit. 

“She gonna come for me again?” he asks and you clench around him so tightly that he grunts, thrusting harder. “That’s right, she is,” he says. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You do. Your back arches and you feel like you’re flying. You’re so wet you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess of your sheets but you don’t care. When you come back to yourself, Joel is watching you, eyes dark. You shift your hips forward. He leans down and kisses you, gripping your jaw between his fingers. He runs his tongue across your mouth before you open, letting him in. It’s messy and hot and you can feel yourself pulse, where he’s still inside of you. You pull back, looking right into his brown eyes. 

“Your turn,” you say, voice raw and echoing your words from earlier. Something in his eyes softens and then he thrusts again. You clench and if you weren’t so worn out, you’d probably be able to come again. Instead, you run a hand up his arm and into his hair, pulling him closer. His hips start moving more erratically and he presses his face into your neck. You think of what you said earlier about biting him and how had responded. You don’t second guess yourself as you gently sink your teeth into the meat of his shoulder, sucking. 

Joel moans, thrusting into you once more before he’s pulling back out of you. You watch as he wraps a hand around himself, tugging once, twice before he grunts and comes all over his hand. Before you can think, you’re reaching out, uncurling his hand from around himself and bringing his fingers to your mouth. You lick the taste of him, swallowing down the saltiness. He watches the entire thing, mouth gaping and eyes hooded. 

“Fuck,” he says, finally. You slump against the bed, watching as he steps back. You want to ask where he’s going but he’s already out of the room. Something in your chest stutters, and you take a deep breath. Before you can spiral into worry, he comes back with a damp towel and clean hands. He pushes your legs apart before he wipes across your thighs and in-between, where you’re sticky and wet. He drops the towel on the floor and then comes around to the other side of the bed, slipping in. He pulls you against him so that you’re settled facing each other, his large hand on your waist. You think of what he had said when he was inside you, about wanting this for ages. 

“Joel,” you start, unsure of what to say. He’s watching you carefully. “Do you like me?” 

It sounds foolish, now that you’ve said it out loud. Like something you’d say in elementary school. 

Joel however, smiles. His brown eyes are soft as he looks at you. 

“You just made my legs shake and you’re asking me if I like you?” he says, echoing your words from earlier. You flush. 

“I mean —” you start to say but he interrupts. 

“Know what you mean, sweetheart,” he says and the endearment isn’t lost on you. It was one thing for him to say it during sex but now, after, it feels like it means something more. 

“I suppose I wasn’t honest with you,” he says. “I’ve liked you far too long and couldn’t stand seeing some boy try to get your attention. Felt like I was possessed when I came to you that mornin’,” he says. He sounds sheepish. You move your hand so it rests on his shoulder. He pulls you closer, his leg going in between your own.

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought I was dreaming,” you say and he chuckles. 

“You and your dreams, huh?” he says and you laugh. 

“Sorry for accosting you at the bar,” you say and he chuckles. 

“You can tell me about your dreams anytime,” he says. “Even the ones that aren’t dirty.” 

You flush. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Joel,” you say and he hums in response. He’s still watching you. “I want to do this again. And not just this but like. All the other stuff too. Relationship stuff.”

There, you’ve said it. It’s out in the open. 

“You askin’ me to go steady?” he says, but he’s pulling you even closer now. One of his hands snakes behind your back, running down your spine.

“Well sure if that’s what you called dating back in the middle ages,” you say.

“Ha,” he says, deadpan. Then, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. I’ve been yours for months now.” 

“Oh,” you say. The confession overwhelms you in the best possible way but you’re also left speechless. “I’m glad.” 

It’s not your best response and you want to say more but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles.

He cups your face, pulling you in for a kiss that’s so tender you feel your chest crack open. He pulls back but you push forward, kissing him once more. You bite at his lip and his hand moves to your hip, squeezing once. You pull back, smiling.

“So is it too early to ask if I can put a donut around your dick?” you say, feeling warmth bloom in you as you feel Joel chuckle. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Maybe Cosmopolitan wasn’t completely useless. 

[aphrosheir]

>>> Red Hair, Red Wine, Red Handed Pt. 2 <<<

[A/N: Part 2 of this madness. I hope y'all are still following the plot??? Uhm... okay, bye!]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

"Barb," Ava calls out from the doorframe of the kindergarten teacher's room like a perp. "Barbara."

"Ava, what are you doing?" Barbara lets out a long suffering sigh. The veteran teacher has been in Abbott for years, and she is one hairfall away from losing it. "If you need to talk to me, be a proper woman and sit."

"But Barbara, this is an important mission. High stakes! Classified."

"Lord, you know that I am not your greatest soldier."

"Give me strength."

"Ava. Sit down."

And just like that, Ava is sitting on—who's chair is this? Lacey Hope, the tag reads—because everyone listens when Barbara Howard tells them to sit down.

"You know, Barbara scares me. Just a little bit."

"Now, what is it that you so desperately needed me on a Friday afternoon after the kids have all gone and rested, mere days before the birth of our Lord and saviour?"

"(Y/N) and Melissa."

"No."

"But they're perfect for each other, Barb!"

"I know!"

"So, you're in?"

"I—what even is your plan?"

Ava wiggles her eyebrows, "I knew you'd come around!"

"I didn't say—"

"So, Christmas romance. What's the equivalent of locking two people together in a room until they confess their feelings?"

Barbara’s pointed look was lethal, but Ava—like all great heroes—persevered.

"Mistletoe. Barb, it's literally the most classic, most romantic, most lovey-dovey shit ever—Barbara, you cannot say no to this."

"It is not right to meddle with our friends' lives like this."

"Look, Barbara. I am not getting enough sleep because (Y/N) won't stop rambling about how Melissa's hair looks like a soft fire or how she would combust if she didn't kiss her yet. Tell me, are you not tired of their abuse on us?"

"Abuse?" Barbara's tone was a double deadpan at this point, listening to the antics of her boss—technically—and wondering how her life had let to this.

"I have lived my life by the word of the Lord, I do not know how I've come to this."

"Yes, abuse! Have you seen the bags under my eyes, Barb? I know, because I can see yours too."

Barbara gasped, covering her perfect face with her hands, and scandalised that Ava would say such a thing. "How dare you?"

"But... It is quite true. Melissa has been pestering me about the perfect gift for (Y/N) for how many nights now," she muttered.

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something about patience being a virtue.

"But—I am not doing this."

"You know," Ava went on, undeterred, "if the Virgin Mary had waited as long as those two have, Jesus would’ve been born in July."

"Ava!"

"I'm just saying."

A long silence settled between them. Barbara folded her arms. Ava leaned back in Lacey Hope's chair like it was a recliner at a stakeout. Finally, with a tired sigh that sounded like the last gasp of her restraint, Barbara spoke:

"Fine. But if we’re going to meddle, we’re doing it with grace, decorum, and discretion."

Ava grinned, already pulling out her phone. "So… Operation Kiss-mas is a go?"

Barbara closed her eyes. "Lord, forgive me for I am about to sin in the name of love."

"I cannot believe that I am doing this."

"Oh, you betta' believe it, sister!"

"Wow, (Y/N)! Your house is gorgeous. This looks straight out of my 'Future Home if I Got Out of Bankruptcy' Pinterest Board." Janine exclaims excitedly as (Y/N) greeted them, now donning an oddly familiar "Silent Night, Violent Night" sweater over her dress.

"Ha!" Ava belly laughs at Janine's quip.

The crew stares at the cameras.

"I love how you kids still have that classic sense of humour. Keep it up, Janine, you might be able to make my good list next year."

"It wasn't... It wasn't a joke—"

"Now, are you all ready for a night of love?" Ava enthusiastically exclaimed, arms outstretched.

"—for our darling boy, Jesus Christ! Yes, that is right, praise His name, Hallelujah." Barbara cut in, as graceful as ever.

The crew cheered with a few stray "Merry Christmases" and a very enthusiastic "Happy Holidays" from Jacob filling the house.

"Ava, remember. Grace, decorum, and discretion."

Janine thanked the Lord that everyone agreed to come at the same time—save for Melissa, seeing as how the redhead was sitting at the couch like a grumpy little gnome as she stared at her phone like it killed her family.

If the time change was or wasn't caused by Ava 'convincing' everyone to make their lives easier and totally not to get Melissa and (Y/N) alone for that slowburn action, only the Lord knows.

"Oh, hi, Melissa!" Janine gave her a small wave. "How's the food?"

The deathly glare that Melissa sent her way was enough of an answer for her and—the rest of the crew—to maybe avoid Melissa until she gets a few more glasses of beer into her system.

"I mean..." Janine chuckled nervously, eyes darting to the side. "Melissa's usually grrr and rawr! I know that. We all know that. But, now it's like RAHHHH!"

"And (Y/N) hasn't even complimented my Slyther-claw sweaters with our initials! I just—I hope they're alright. Like, you know... I want to see the New Year, guys."

"Merry Christmas, y'all! Now, go upstairs and pick out your own rooms, especially if you are planning to stay. Find a room buddy and bunker up. After that, go wild! I'm lookin' at you, Jacob, my Mistle-bro!"

"Yeah, (Y/N) and I are tight. We're mistle-bros in this ho-ho-ho!"

"Jacob? Jacob, where are you?! The ladder is shaking!"

"Oh no, I'm coming, Janine!"

"Hey, (Y/N). Where can we put our food?"

"Right," (Y/N)'s uncharacteristic dull eyes lit up. "Y'all can put it somewhere on the dining table. I cannot wait to see what you've cooked up, Mr. Eddie-ble!"

"Please do not call me that."

But it was too late as Jacob gave a high-five to (Y/N).

Janine, on the other hand, had already led the group to the kitchen, Gregory being stuck beside a rambling Jacob.

"She’s loud. Social. Talks to everyone. But no one’s been here until now. That’s... something."

Jacob chimed in from Gregory's side, eyes frantically shooting from one place to another, "You know, this house gives strong ‘refined vintage with a twist of eccentric aunt’ energy. All this woodwork? Totally Craftsman. Those gold drawer handles? French provincial. And these trinkets? A curated chaos—it's like an antique shop got organized by colour theory!"

Gregory shoots the camera a 'please kill me' look.

"So, we just take any room here?" Janine asked, exploring the quaint yet surprisingly large house.

It housed 5 rooms upstairs and an attic turned library on the third floor. The halls seemed to stretch far and wide for Janine, who was leading the group, ever the over-excited camp counsellor.

"Yeah! My room is the farthest to the right. Nope, not that right, my right! Nope, still the wrong way—Janine, my right and your right are the same!"

Just then, Gregory put a hand on top of Janine's shoulders gently and quietly, turning her to the correct direction.

"Oh—uh, that one. Right. Thank you, (Y/N)!" She waved down to the woman downstairs before gingerly turning to her boyfriend. "And, thank you, Gregory."

"Move it along, lovebirds! I am trying to get my holiday glee awn," Mr. Johnson yelled, hauling his bag over his shoulder, pushing past the youngins in front of him.

"So..." Ava started, walking up beside Barbara who was taking in the kitchen; fluffing up a wreath, wiping a stray dust particle off the table, moving around a red-lipstick stain on a mug that ironically states (Y/N)'s mug—anything to keep Ava from talking to her. But alas... "Operation Jingle Smash is a go?"

"I thought it was Operation Season of Love? You know what, I still do not give a hoot about the name. Ava, what exactly is your plan now?"

"Well, for Operation Ho Ho Homoerotic Tension—" Barbara glares. "No? Okay. But, I suggest we just place a mistletoe somewhere they might frequent and lead them there. Easy peasy, pussy squeezy, right?"

"I—you are testing me right now."

Ava winks, "And you are passing, baby."

"But, well. That is quite easy. I suggest we start here, at the kitchen. We could call Melissa and (Y/N) to explain the dishes they've made? Now, wouldn't that be a nice bonding moment for them, a nice build up before they—you know."

"Kiss, Barbara? You can say kiss, can't you," Ava deadpans. "But, honestly, Barb. I don't think that's gonna work."

"Oh, come on. It'll be nice, Ava. Trust me." Barbara smiles, "Well look at me scheming all up on here, for Operation Proper Pairing."

"Still needs work."

"(Y/N)! Melissa!" Barbara calls out to the two women. (Y/N) turning her head from the couch as Melissa walks out of the right wing of the second floor, looking annoyed as she was in the middle of curling her hair.

"What'd'ya need, Barb," Melissa asks, clearly annoyed at the interruption of her beauty routine.

"Well, I was just wondering—" she clasped her hands together, in the usual Barbara Howard manner, "If our lovely cooks could explain the menu for tonight, seeing as how hard the two of you have worked on these—"

"Yeah, no. Pass, Barbs."

(Y/N) looked at Barbara, serious and unbreaking. "Barb. As much as I wish I could, but... I don't know if I can ever tell my trauma of the mashed potatoes without violently crying and throwing up. I'm sorry, Barb."

"I—"

"Told you, it wouldn't work."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Give me your hand."

"What?"

Ava shot her a look. "Just trust me."

And just as Barbara's perfectly manicured nails hesitantly landed on top of Ava's, the woman grasped it so tight, Barbara couldn't move even as she saw that the trajectory of her hand was about to land on top of her precious sweet potato pie. "Ava!"

"Help, Barbara's hand is stuck on her hard and sticky sweet potato pie!"

"AVA!"

"How dare she call my sweet potato pie hard and sticky?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Stop being dramatic, Barb. Whatever youse plannin', I ain't fallin' for it." Melissa retorted, retreating up to her bedroom.

"I told you, it would not work. What a waste of a good p—Ava. Ava. I can't get my hand out, Ava."

"Was I wrong though?" Ava preached. "It took us a whole hour to wash that sweet potato pie off her hands."

"My nails smell of it."

"Could've been worse. It could've been smelling like Jacob's vegan nachos that looks like it came out of Santa's chimney. Seriously, how and why would you make nachos vegan?"

"So, 3 more hours to go and still no kiss." Ava sighs, lathering Barbara's hands in (Y/N)'s almost empty handsoap that she could've sworn she just replaced before they had arrived.

"It's... Alright. It was our first attempt, is all. Warm-up, correct?"

"Of course."

As the afternoon progressed, neat little garlands hung from (Y/N)'s high wooden ceilings, lights twinkling and up to safety code—according to O'shon. Now was the time for them to litter the whole house with mistletoes.

The couch where Melissa would frequent, watching the game that currently played on the TV. Beneath the tall pine tree that brought the whole room to life. Above the fireplace where pictures of (Y/N) in her years in Abbott had been kept.

Just a couple.

"Hey, did you move the stockings here?" Gregory asked, the askew decorations making his brain tick.

"No, but did you take off the star? I know it looks old but it's an important part of Christmas." Janine's voice grew in pitch, her once perfect makeup now had sweat tracks running through her forehead.

"I didn't," he said flatly.

Just then, Jacob came running in, "Oh my God, you guys. The little elf garlands I made of us? Hung it near the TV? Completely destroyed. Donezo. Gone. My elf even lost its head..."

Gregory let out a shrug, "Well... That one wasn't too bad."

"I don't know what's happening and I'm scared. What if it's Krampus, getting back at us for all the times we've been bad this year? Oh no, I knew that almond milk was bad but I kept still bought them. I love the film it develops, I'm sorry!"

"Okay, let's not jump into... Improbable conclusions, alright?"

"I don't want to live in a basket!" Jacob shrieks.

Gregory slaps him across the face, "You're not!"

"Gregory!" Janine exclaims.

"I am so sorry, Jacob. I don't know what came over me."

"No, it's fine. You're right. I've been a good boy. I ate my veggies. I slept before my bed time," Jacob stated with conviction.

"That's not..."

"Whatever happened here," Janine gestured to their ruined decorations, "We have to figure out who did it and put an end to—"

Thud.

"Oh no, Krampus is here to take me!"

"Hey, what is going on here?"

"—I told you, put the ladder to the left! Ava, you are the principal, but I am well sure that my kindergarteners would be able to take my instructions better than you because they actually know where their left and right is!"

"Damn, Barb. I thought you were all about grace, decorum, and discretion?" Ava mutters as she helps the woman stand.

"This is grace," Barbara gestures to herself. Her hair is sticking out in a bunch of directions, beige blouse untucked and the matching brown pants wrinkled.

Janine steps forward, staring at the carnage of tinsel and baubles. "What have you been doing in here?"

"We were smuggling mistletoes to gift Santa's elves for being good helpers this year," Barbara answers incredulously. "What does it look like to you, Janine?"

Jacob leans towards Gregory, "Uhm... I'm still scared. But I think it's not of Krampus anymore."

"Ava, I have been teaching for well over 20 years. I am not about to lose my sanity over two over-grown, emotionally impaired babies who thinks they'll explode if they show an ounce of emotion and a God-forsaken mistletoe!"

The growl she let out at the last part sent a shockwave through the hallway, making the teachers take a very mindful step back.

"I hope Gerald doesn't arrive any time soon. He might kill me for breaking his wife."

"So..." Ava takes a hesitant step forward, quickly snatching the poor mistletoe from Barbara's hand as if she's taking a bone from a rabid dog. "I say, let's stop this and let them be, maybe?"

"No."

Janine could swear that she saw smoke curl from her nostrils and a dangerous red flare pass her eye.

"We're going to finish Operation All I Want for Christmas is for These Idiots to Kiss even if it kills us."

"Us?"

"Yes, us. Unless you want what happened to your little elf counterpart to happen to you too, Jacob."

"For years, I have watched Melissa Schemmenti chase after men who couldn’t tell her love from drywall—getting her heart trampled on like church flyers at a state fair. But not this time. This time, she has a devoted woman—determined, loving, borderline feral—and she’s pushing her away!"

"I have not meddled once. Not once. But this time, Schemmenti? I am onto your mess. I am in your mess. I am practically neck-deep in your emotional debris."

As Jacob had hung up his elf once again—the head held up by glue and prayers—he turned to a calmer Barbara, "I did notice them avoiding each other."

"Don't get me started when they practically burn a hole through the other's head when staring at then when they know the other wasn't looking," Gregory said, crossing his arms.

"Honestly," Janine added, frowning, "I haven't seen them talk to each other this whole day..."

"Children—when you have known Melissa Schemmenti for as long as I have, you'd know that that woman is practically a flammable material."

Janine nodded, "And (Y/N) is like a matchstick to her. She eats confrontation for breakfast."

"I wonder what happened to them. Before Melissa arrived, (Y/N) and I were just talking about her wanting to impress Mel."

"So... Melissa and I kind of got into a fight earlier."

[gojoethereal]

01 | Say It When You Mean It

pairing: fem!reader x gojo.

contents: mutual pining, emotionally constipated!gojo, soft angst, slow burn, jealous!gojo (but he’d never admit it), unresolved tension, touches that linger, love in the little things, found family dynamics, reader is a jujutsu sorcerer, reader has a backbone, flirty banter, deep-rooted feelings, late-night rooftop talks, lowkey possessive!gojo, protective instincts

wc. 1,080 words

Summary- After years away in Kyoto, you're back at Tokyo Jujutsu High—not as a student, but as a teacher. You return to familiar faces, new students, and old wounds you thought you'd left behind. You and Satoru Gojo were never just friends—but never anything more, either. Now that you're back, he's learning that silence has consequences, and you're not sure you have the patience for "almost" anymore. A story about timing, second chances, and the things we never say—until it’s almost too late.

series masterlist. /next

The first time you left Tokyo Jujutsu High, it wasn’t on bad terms. Not exactly.

You told yourself it was for the mission. For Kyoto. For the structure, the distance, the clarity. And maybe that was half true. But the other half—the one you buried so deep even Shoko couldn’t tease it out over late-night drinks—was Satoru.

You needed space from the man who could stop time and still make your heart race.

But now, years later, you were back. Not as a student. Not as a visitor. But as a teacher, per Yaga’s quiet, unexpected request.

"Fushiguro will be happy," he said. "He's always preferred your approach to Satoru’s chaos."

You had smiled politely, nodded your agreement. But part of you couldn’t stop wondering if he would be happy to see you too.

The school grounds hadn’t changed much.

Still the same tall gates, the creak in the floorboards of the eastern wing, the faint hum of cursed energy that always pulsed beneath the surface.

You stood near the training field, waiting for introductions, when you heard footsteps and—

"Hey! Who’s the new—oh wait, she’s hot."

You turned, catching the sight of a pink-haired boy skidding to a halt next to a girl with a sharp smile and smarter eyes.

"I’m Itadori Yuji!" the boy said, all teeth and sunshine. "Are you our new teacher? Please tell me you’re cooler than Gojo-sensei."

“I’m Kugisaki Nobara,” the girl added, flipping her hair with a dramatic toss. “And yeah, seriously. If you don’t make us fight curses blindfolded, I’ll consider it an upgrade.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Nice to meet you both. And don’t worry—I’m not Gojo.”

"Thank God," Nobara muttered.

A third voice cut in smoothly. “I told them you were cool.”

Megumi.

He stood a few paces behind them, arms crossed but clearly more relaxed than usual. “Glad you’re back.”

You gave him a small smile. “Glad someone missed me.”

“That makes two of us.”

And just like that, your heart skipped.

You didn’t need to turn to know whose voice that was.

Gojo Satoru was exactly as you remembered—and yet, not quite. The same cocky grin, the same impossibly tall frame. But his sunglasses were off, hanging loosely in his hand, and his eyes… there was something tired in them. Something real.

“Satoru,” you said, carefully neutral.

He walked over, all confidence, but his gaze flicked over you like he was checking to make sure you were real. That you hadn’t left again.

“You look good,” he said. “Kyoto didn’t ruin you after all.”

“And you still talk too much.”

He laughed, but it was softer than it used to be.

Nobara and Yuji exchanged glances.

“Wait—you two know each other?” Yuji asked.

“Old friends,” Gojo said, but the way he said it made the word friend sound like a lie. Or worse, a placeholder.

“Very old,” you added, gaze locking with his. And lingering.

Later that evening, after the students had gone back inside and the sky shifted into a muted violet, you found yourself on the old balcony outside the teacher’s wing. You hadn’t meant to end up there—but your feet had led you, the way they always did when your heart needed air.

A quiet step behind you.

“I figured you’d be up here,” Gojo said. “Some things don’t change.”

You smiled to yourself. “Some things shouldn’t.”

He stood beside you, close enough that you felt the heat of him. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The wind whispered between you. The weight of everything unsaid pressed heavy against your ribs.

"You ran off to Kyoto," he said finally, low and careful. "Never really told me why."

You looked at him. Really looked.

"I think you knew," you said.

He didn’t deny it.

His hand was resting on the railing next to yours, knuckles brushing.

“If I told you I missed you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “would you believe me?”

You turned toward him slowly, eyes searching his.

“I’d believe it,” you murmured. “But I’d wonder why it took you this long to say it.”

Another pause.

Then—he leaned in.

Not enough to cross the line. But enough that his breath touched your cheek, that you felt the question unspoken in every inch between you.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, “to do it right this time.”

You closed your eyes, just for a second.

Then pulled away.

Not far. Just enough.

“Then don’t rush it,” you said. “Don’t say it until you mean it.”

And with that, you left him standing in the soft dusk, alone with every word he still hadn’t said.

divider found here

next

authors note: first time doing a series so kinda nervous but pls comments help and tell me honest opinions or if you want me to add anything!!!🍒 tysmm

[themeraldee]

omggg yess i can totally see you liking comments that are from the thirsty side of the internet, because while you can’t reply because of his squeaky clean image, vought never told you you can’t like comments! 😏

“i know her back hurts after this.” a funny comment left under a picture of homie you posted, him all dolled up for a dawn of the seven premiere looking sexy as ever ofc.

“till the walls are red white and blue” a comment right under it, also liked by you. this one you actually reply with a 🇺🇸.

— NO WAY SHE JUST REPLIED TO THAT

— oh she’s a freak 🤭🤭

“homelander, you’re lucky you’re the strongest man in the world because you’re gonna need all that strength to keep me off of her 💀” left under a selfie you posted, rewarded with a like by yours truly.

“HOMELANDER CAN YOU FIGHT?!?” he saw this one on the rare occasions he uses his phone, mainly because he was looking at how gorgeous you looked but the mention of his name did catch his eye for a second. he replied with a

— “Yes”

— LMAOOO

— no way THE homelander just responded rip

— she’s all yours bro 💀

i can totally see you following fan accounts for him and one day seeing a post with a down bad caption talking about how crazy it must be in bed with him because you really can yank on his blonde locks while he’s going down on you and he won’t feel a thing, and with little thought you comment

“it’s true.”

— aWWWWHHSHSHSNWHAT WHAT

— UMMM

— NO WAY Y/N YORUE A FREAKKK

— 👀 um @ vought @ thesevenoffical @ homelander ARE YOU SEEING THIS?

— homelander more like homebanger, come get ur girl!! 😭😭😭😭😭

— I am at a loss for words

— I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

— @ y/n PLEASE SPILL THE TEA TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR SEX LIFE I BEGGG

he has no idea about the little interaction but it definitely made your week.

also sending him stupid love memes.

you send text him this:

— Whose cat is that?

what?

— It’s a cat

yeah.

— Why did you send me this

read it.

— i’m confused

baby literally read it.

*a minute goes by*

nevermind

— OH you miss me? 😏👀

yes you idiot

— Watch your mouth

— I miss you too

— How do I send one of those Cat word pictures

😭😭

OMG YESSSSSSS thank u again for this juicy gift 😂 I love all of these!!!!

The: “HOMELANDER CAN YOU FIGHT?!?” “Yes” "she’s all yours bro 💀" has me rolling LMAO, pls I need more of him interacting on socials like that that's SOOOO funny.

You're killing it with these. Kick vought/ashley/whoever the fuck out, you're now in charge of socials 😂

You know people are constantly wondering whether he is a good boy scout missionary type in bed or if he's a freak. Finally they'll be getting a little glimpse of that at least.

"Cat word pictures" 💀💀 that's so him lmao

OMg it's funny you mention the memes. Bcs I was just thinking the other day that if you quoted memes/soundbites/the classics™ he'd have 0 clue what you're saying at all times.

I'd be blasting his phone with memes, shorts & reels and he'd have no clue wtf most of it all means 😭 he's pretty good with general pop culture, movies and traditional media but the social media part of it escapes him a bit I feel.

I know he texts like a boomer. Then once you get him using emojis he's inserting them after every word (or ending each text with 🦅🇺🇸 🦸‍♂️)

[chaaistained]

hii chaai sorry if this is really desperate but 🙁 i got 65% in my result and i want to manifest that to climb to 95% although the results are already out

how can i make that happen 🙁🙁 i did affirm good marks but it didn’t reflect 🙁 why is that 🙁 how do i persist when the 3d isn’t cooperating

anon i’m sending you so many warm hugs bcs i’m literally in the same boat as you rn — feels like uni is kicking my ass and i catch myself slipping into negative spirals

so you don’t need to apologise, you’re not desperate you’re merely human and you’re experiencing a low point

the thing abt the 3d is that it literally means nothing compared to your assumptions

it is FUELLED by your assumptions

affirming is an excellent method and skill to develop and implement into your life, but are your affirmations mirrored in you assumptions? or are you simply speaking something that you don’t truly believe?

it’s ok if it’s the latter!! not all hope is lost! you’re not incapable of manifestation, everyone is capable of manifestation

in order to believe your assumptions you must accept that they are complete

i’ll give you an example of my own from last week:

i had a test that i barely studied for because i was so caught up with other responsibilities. i did all of my study the night before and the morning of before class (and it’s a 9am class where majority of my morning is spent in my commute)

here’s what i did that ensured my success in passing my test — i took a few minutes to myself before class to simply sit and breathe and FEEL the emotion of success and academic validation

now i’m gonna be real with you: it did not rid me of anxiety, i still panicked during the test, i still floundered between questions wondering if whatever i was doing was right, i still did that thing where you give up and start counting how many marks you’re gonna get bcs at least 50% is better than an F — i did it all

and i still passed

bcs no matter how negative i was feeling, all i said to myself repeatedly was “i don’t accept this emotion as fact”, i emotionally stared my anxiety in the face and called it a liar and stood on business

and i get it, it’s so hard sometimes, i’m not saying it’s always easy bcs that’s not true, the important thing is that you want success, you desire it, bcs it’s yours — remember that

p.s

you can change this process to be aligned with your own beliefs, even if others call them “limiting”

ex: technically you don’t need to study for a test, you can assume success and according to law, it’s guaranteed.

but if that’s something that you don’t TRULY BELIEVE? then it won’t manifest, obvs.

if you, deep down inside, believe that your success hinges on some form of work done on your part, then do a little smth???

like me—

i didn’t study much at all? i did minimum three hours combined study before my test which i could have studied a week in advance for. doesn’t matter tho, bcs i at least DID something

it put my mind at ease bcs i may not have “worked hard” by “logical” standards, but i still WORKED at it and so i could silence that limiting belief in my mind that hard work = success

what even is hard work? it’s subjective. i believed the three hours that i did was hard, i truly believed that, and so i not only affirmed, visualised and acted as if (manifestation methods) but i also did what “logical” people do which is actual work in order to achieve my goal. i did both.

slowly but surely, i’m letting go of that limiting belief.

it can happen overnight for people. that’s totally possible. it didn’t for me bcs i didn’t believe it could. that’s why i’m saying that i too, am working through stuff.

so don’t feel bad for failing bcs failure is not what happened, don’t assume that lest you want it to be true 🫂

[elliesglock]

ice analysis part ll | after pazzi cuddle

after pazzi cuddle:

this is when carol and ice start acting REALLY WEIRD. but baby truthfully im not looking at that cause what the hell is pazzi doing in the background? paige and azzi are kinda standing together behind the bar and paige is dancing for the camera. i assume azzi is trying to get her attention for a while before she shouts "PAIGE!" right into her ear. aweeee she not used to not having her girls attention. but azzi from the way paige is grinning and her eyes are looking in different directions i don't think she meant to ignore u baby trust 😭 she kinda pulls paige's face to look at whatever she's trying to show her and it lowkey looks like they either kiss again or get really close to doing it. ice covers it with her arm (babe the damage is already done but i appreciate you keeping them safe) and i honestly can't see what they're doing. i think they just got really close or had a little moment tbh. they were close and touchy this whole live so im not surprised. i don't think they're sober enough to even recognize they're being extremely obvious which says to me this is just an everyday natural thing for them. cause flirting w someone and showing ur true intentions while drunk is REAL. and pazzi showed their intentions and who they with too quick. okay so nothing really happens until this next part. it's brought up in the live about a guy named ryan, and that's who i am assuming kayla is talking to and maybe in an argument with. so this is when the two brainiacs azzi and kayla have the wonderful idea imo to give kayla a hickey to make him jealous. you can hear paige go "are you deadass right now?" which might not be directed at azzi or it could be why she later says to distract paige so she doesn't get mad when she gives her one. she legit says "can someone go distract paige? paige is gonna get mad." maybe paige is listening to their talk and is like are you deadass azzi no!! if it was just a friendly thing why would paige CARE who azzi's joking around and messing with. obv it's because she doesn't want her girlfriend to be giving hickeys and paige is also naturally possessive asf over azzi. in her head that stuffs only for her. especially after making out with her and the liquors flowing i'm sure she's even more feral and wants azzi all to herself. but before this you can hear someone come to paige and ask if "a's good?" which just seems so coupley to me. like you go up to someone's girlfriend and ask them if their girls too drunk. idk how they're gonna fix that because both of the girlies are drunk as a skunk. i think aubrey takes one for the team and goes to distract p because you can hear paige going "AUBREY AND I WE LOCKED IN BRUH". and during this time everyone's looking behind the bar giggling because im assuming azzi is giving her a hickey. you even hear yanna say "bro it's a movie when he gets here!". now just to preface this a FRIENDLY funny thing that is happening between friends i am not insinuating azzi is cheating on paige because that's not what's happening at all. before i get the warriors in my inbox. azzi says she needs a shot after that (no you don't babe) and she just gave kayla (and what it sounds like to me) a hickey. little tiny moment a couple minutes after this where ice shows a comment of someone saying paige and andre 👀? and her and carol laugh about it for like a minute cause they know who she with and what she doing in that bar. around the same time, where tf did paige and azzi go haven't we haven't seen them for a good five minutes....they in that bathroom for sure. ice evens reads a comment that asks where's paige and her and kayla kinda stumble over each other trying to figure out an answer.

first ice looks around and doesn't see her (she's w her girl making out in that bathroom im telling you), then kayla says she's playing cornhole, then ice says she's getting them shots. like okay keep joking but we know u fr don't know where paige is. and they also say they don't know where azzi is either. so my agenda that they've been making out this whole time in the bathroom or somewhere off the in corner shall prosper. then azzi and paige come walking back together and lemme just say they looking ROUGHHHH. paige comes dancing but they but they both look so tense and blushy. idk im convinced for sure they had something going on. lowkey ice was being hella careful for the rest of the live cause 1. we don't see paige and azzi again (i think that slight little kiss in the beginning started something elseeeeeee. like they eventually just had to go somewhere and take care of some business tbh) also the whole bar empties out from around her so someone had to of told their drunk asses to move away from the live.

i didn't really watch the end cause im lazy oops but lemme know if there's anything i needa add cause i didn't see anything else. thank you for reading guys! lemme know any thoughts you have!! 🤍

and with that L's in the chat for ice, i'm sorry this live continues to be your destiny and u also had deal w this drunk ass paige all night ❤️‍🩹

[the-most-humble-blog]

“WHEN YOU TURN OFF AT NIGHT: The Other You Isn’t Dreaming — They’re Remembering”

---

Good night?

No.

You don’t sleep.

You switch channels.

You slide into a version of yourself that doesn’t blink at a talking dog, doesn’t question the house with an infinite basement, doesn’t flinch when a dead loved one walks into the room like nothing happened.

And the most unnerving part?

> That version of you is completely fine with it.

---

Who Is That Version of You?

In dreams, you’ve:

Said things you’d never admit out loud.

Touched people you’d never approach.

Betrayed lovers, saved cities, killed strangers, flown.

Held conversations with people who don’t exist — but feel more real than anyone you've ever met.

And you didn’t scream.

You didn’t panic.

You adapted.

Why?

Because that wasn’t you in a weird dream.

That was you, in a place where that reality is normal.

That dog always talks.

That version of your mother is always dead and always laughing.

You always wear red.

You always betray him.

And you wake up confused.

But that version of you wakes up with no questions at all.

---

The Uncanny Isn’t Strange — It’s Contextually Familiar

Ever wonder why, in your dreams:

You’re naked in a grocery store but no one cares?

You speak fluent French despite never studying it?

You die and keep going?

Because in that version of reality, those things are not odd.

You are operating from a different rulebook.

The subconscious doesn’t invent.

It remembers.

It references.

It pulls data from deeper archives than your waking mind can access.

> Your brain isn’t malfunctioning.

It’s reporting.

You’re not dreaming.

You’re receiving transmission from a sleeper variant of you living in a frequency this dimension can’t fully hold.

---

The “You” Who’s Not Bound by This Life’s Shame

That version of you isn’t afraid of being called delusional.

They don’t carry your trauma.

They didn’t grow up hearing “you’re too much.”

They didn’t go to your school.

They didn’t lose your lover.

> They are what you would be if that moment in your life went differently.

If she stayed.

If he hit you.

If the car turned left.

If the bullets found you.

If you never got that diagnosis.

If you took the job.

If you said “no.”

---

This Isn’t Philosophy. It’s Physics with a Pen Name.

Call it:

String theory with emotional scars

Quantum memory osmosis

Neurological bleed-through across realities

Call it whatever lets you sleep.

But know this:

> Dreams are not simulations.

They are leaks.

The veil is thinnest when the body is off.

You are not hallucinating.

You are witnessing.

You are not creating.

You are remembering.

---

So Why Do You Wake Up Shaken?

Because the version of you that saw the dog talk

— or watched the moon collapse

— or slept with that version of her that never pushed you away

…remembers too.

And sometimes they bleed back.

Sometimes they whisper.

And sometimes?

They’re angry you left.

---

Write From There

Don’t write from the safe memory.

Write from the memory that doesn’t belong here.

Write like someone who watched themselves die in a dream — and realized it was someone else’s memory of you.

Write like you’ve been other people.

Because you have.

Write like someone who can feel the tremble in their hands after kissing someone whose name they don’t know — but who knew them by a name no one has ever called you here.

---

Final Transmission:

You don’t dream.

You travel.

And if your writing doesn’t occasionally make you feel insane,

you’re not channeling deep enough.

So tonight when you sleep:

Don’t ask “What will I dream?”

Ask “Which version of me will I become?”

Ask “Will they let me remember?”

And tomorrow?

Write down whatever slips through.

No matter how wrong it feels.

No matter how true it sounds.

Because that’s not a story.

> That’s dimensional residue.

That’s Blacksite Literature™.

Codename: SLEEPER VARIANT

Clearance Level: Unstable

💣 Reblog if your dreams felt like evidence.

🛐 Comment if you’ve woken up missing someone you’ve never met.

📜 Follow @the-most-humble-blog for more Blacksite Literature™ transmissions.

[shorthaltsjester]

just constantly thinking about percy telling vex that he’d like to think they’re all better than they think they are (except her brother, of course) . constantly thinking about when vex tells percy he’s a good man and he gets awkward and flustered and returns that she’s a good woman and when she gets as awkward and flustered he goes “see. it’s not very nice is it.” percy shouting to ripley that he forgives her and vex carves forgive into the wood of her bow. vex tells percy to take off his mask and percy comes across vex in tears and scrubbing at her armour. god. the campaign starts and percy is making arrows as flirting and getting kisses in return and the campaign ends and exhausted and knowing it won’t be a want that will be fulfilled percy admits he never wants to make another weapon and vex equally exhausted affirms that he’ll never Have to. and god . god . opposites attract is great or whatever but the deliciousness of dynamics where the characters hold up a mirror to one another where they get to shed the burden of self and see someone Like Them as someone good or capable of being better and Falling In Love. and that love being a pathway to them coming to grips with their own image and their own capacity to be better. and that the fact that the person they fall for being someone so Familiar means that they see through each other’s shit. that percy sees that vex has fallen into the trap of Nobility tricking people into thinking that makes them inherently better and giving her the only whitestone title someone has to earn beyond selection or marriage or birth. that vex sees percy forgive ripley and discusses the importance of that choice but reminds him that it’s just as important that he forgive himself.

[suddencolds]

.~

[atopvisenyashill]

omg i’ve talked about it a bit when it comes to, like, the “recipe” for waking dragons from stone (took me FOREVER to find it bc it was NOT showing up in my search smh). it’s vague (on purpose) what is actually required to wake a dragon from stone. mirri & drogo seem to be part of it, and euron is clearly planning to use at least falia but probably her bastard & maybe aeron as well to fuel his own magic. but dany doesn't really know the "recipe" - she's acting on instinct. so firstly, i've always wondered about melisandre - does she know the "recipe" or does she know an incorrect recipe or is she just hoping she'll know what to do in the moment? i mean does euron even know the "true" recipe? does it change depending on who is doing it?

but the main kinda weird thing is that both "waking stone" moments deal with a pregnant (or recently miscarried) woman, and melisandre is very pushy about child sacrifices specifically - both aemon steelsong and edric storm. is a child - an "innocent" so to speak - needed? does the child have to be blood related? i mean rhaego is already dead when dany burns the pyre - it's drogo she's sacrificing more than anything, alongside mirri and herself. but dany (like bran) is a once-in-a-lifetime magic user - melisandre and euron are more likely to be following a recipe, i don't think they just Know Instinctively what to do. they had to learn like mirri did. so...where did they learn how to wake the dragons from stone?

and that's where we get into egg. who tells him how to wake the dragons from stone? what do they tell him? our information on the tragedy of summerhall is just as vague as the information on what "wake the stone dragons" even means.

"This talk of a stone dragon . . . madness, I tell you, sheer madness. Did we learn nothing from Aerion Brightfire, from the nine mages, from the alchemists? Did we learn nothing from Summerhall? No good has ever come from these dreams of dragons, I told Axell as much.

"He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days." Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar's birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. "It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?" "Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved."

"I see you," she whispered. "I see you, wolf child. Blood child. I thought it was the lord who smelled of death . . ." She began to sob, her little body shaking. "You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel. I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart. Begone!"

"No one ever looked for a girl," he said. "It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought . . . the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died..."

All three of the sons of the fifth Aegon had wed for love, in defiance of their father's wishes. And because that unlikely monarch had himself followed his heart when he chose his queen, he allowed his sons to have their way, making bitter enemies where he might have had fast friends. Treason and turmoil followed, as night follows day, ending at Summerhall in sorcery, fire, and grief.

"She came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. A stunted thing, grotesque to look upon. A dwarf, most people said, though dear to Lady Jenny, who always claimed that she was one of the children of the forest." "What became of her?" "Summerhall." The word was fraught with doom.

Literally all we are told is that there was a fire and it burned the place to the ground as Rhaella gave birth to Rhaegar. And then we get this bit in TWOIAF:

In the fateful year 259 AC, the king summoned many of those closest to him to Summerhall, his favorite castle, there to celebrate the impending birth of his first great-grandchild, a boy later named Rhaegar, to his grandson Aerys and granddaughter Rhaella, the children of Prince Jaehaerys. It is unfortunate that the tragedy that transpired at Summerhall left very few witnesses alive, and those who survived would not speak of it. A tantalizing page of Gyldayn's history—surely one of the very last written before his own death—hints at much, but the ink that was spilled over it in some mishap blotted out too much. ...the blood of the dragon gathered in one... ...seven eggs, to honor the seven gods, though the king's own septon had warned... ...pyromancers... ...wild fire... ...flames grew out of control...towering...burned so hot that... ...died, but for the valor of the Lord Comman...

Now the obvious and still likely answer here is that the wildfire they used to make a pyre for the eggs grew out of control, and that in the heat of the moment Dunk grabbed a pregnant Rhaella and ran for it, probably did something heroic that allowed her to get away while he was consumed by the flames. And surely just seeing your family go in flames is more than enough reason to "gorge on grief" when it comes to survivors like Rhaella and Jenny's Ghost.

BUT. Only death may pay for life. Did Egg know that? I think it's not unlikely he did! He is mentioned to have met with other magic users besides the Ghost of High Heart, and they certainly would have told him about it. And not unlikely Egg might have tried something odd, since we know he was getting desperate for control at that time. It doesn't have to be sacrificing a pregnant Rhaella - I mean maybe Egg was slightly clued in on the magic that moves Dany, and tried himself to walk onto the pyre (and maybe it's the opposite ie he knew he'd have to sacrifice someone else but thought his sacrifice would be enough, whereas Dany knew she'd have to sacrifice Mirri, Drogo, and herself). Perhaps as it exploded, as Egg walked onto the pyre to die, Dunk was forced to make a choice between Egg and Rhaella and chose Rhaella. My main point here is it's so vague and I think that means Egg did something more than just light some eggs on fire - he walked onto that pyre himself or he tried to sacrifice someone, and it was only because Dunk made the decision to rescue Rhaella that anyone got out alive.

And that's interesting when you think about the Kingsguard vows - Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower, Aemon the Dragonknight, they stood there and made excuses as the men they served did monstrous things. But Dunk, a knight yet not quite confined to the vows of a knight, maybe watches as the boy he loves does a monstrous thing and decides to act.

i’m not saying it’s a guarantee nor am i saying the story doesn’t work without it. but once you’ve seen the “egg attempted to blood sacrifice pregnant rhaella and dunk saved her” theory it’s in your head.

[lucyshypemaster]

thoughts on unraveled?

OMFG I JUST WOKE UP AND SAW THE VIDEO

okay I'mma be fr, I have really mixed feelings about this. I mean, I kinda have already predicted that it's going to be keefe's time in the lost cities based on the clues shannon dropped for us-

I know a lot of people are disappointed because they really wanted book 10 + they're so sick of keefe which I have to admit as a keefe lover myself, I am 💀💀 but shannon did say that it's going to be really crucial for the story? so ig she's not just doing this for cash grab.

maybe keefe made some allies that'll really help sophie later on. plus, it'd be interesting to see how he overcame his fear of talking. idk people, I'm trying to see the good in this news.

I'm not really excited but obviously I'll still be reading it because again, according to shannon, it's extremely important soooo yeah

[clearallcathy]

Good lord. maybe its my headache making me a hater but i cannot stand the way people do pd positivity sometimes. do you not have anything to say to me other than "uhm i dont think youre a serial killer"