#still want corn nut

[hinterlost]

Tag game!! Yay!!!!

I was tagged by @marythegizka !!!!!! <3

Share your wallpaper: its been a picture of this frog for like 5 years now. This is not my frog. But he be just like me fr.

The last song you listened to: End of the Line - Daft Punk

Currently reading: Do various SWTOR fics count?

Last Movie: Waking Life.

Craving: honestly atm corn nuts. Or some spicy corn chips.

What are you wearing right now? Housecoat. Maximum comfort.

How tall are you: recently had the horrible realization that I am in fact short.

Piercings: Septim and my ears but I never wear earrings my ears always get infected :(

Tattoos: Five! 4 in American traditional and one stick and poke.

Glasses? Contacts? Neither!

Last drink: Sparkling apple juice. I am an adult.

Last show: The Golden Girls

Last thing you ate: souuuup

Favorite color: GREEEEEEEEN

Current obsession: SWTOR

Unrelated obsession: Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Fallout, Halo, TES

Any pets: sadly no :( I'd really like a fish or something tho or like a moss garden. Maybe a frog.

Do you have a crush on anyone? Assuming fictional characters don't count. No.

Favorite fictional character: This is a hard one. All time though I've always been partial to SGT. Johnson from Halo. BOOHYAH

The last place you traveled: California. First time to America. I went to a McDonalds at 7 AM because they still use the good tasting scrambled eggs in America and I saw a man drinking hot sauce straight out of the bottle in the parking lot. He was shirtless. It was jarring. I should preface I didn't travel to America just to eat McDonalds but honestly compared to Canadian McDonalds I'd consider it. Also fuck airports and fuck flying. Why tf does it feel like that feeling of falling when you're falling asleep but you're awake and 30,000ft in the air. hate.

[coridallasmultipass]

Holy shit, I found my snake on a cup!! Pink baby, just like mine!! It's so cute, so I had to get it!! Snakes are so freaking cute!! It's so rare to find snake things outside of October, and especially rare to find cute snakes! Happy early Lunar New Year (on January 29).

[aturinfortheworse]

I read a fair number of recipes on the ten thousand interchangeable recipe blogs that exist, and often they say something like "This recipe is a family favourite!" or "This a crowd-pleaser" etc. and I roll my eyes a little bit every time because of course they are, it goes without saying! People like food! Nearly any special-occasion home-cooked meal is going to be popular.

But there is one recipe, one cake, that has recontextualised all those comments for me and now actually I think those bloggers might be wrong about what a family favourite is. It sure as hell isn't Interchangeable Chocolate Cake No. 7.

I'm telling you this because I need you to know the seriousness of the power I am going to bestow on you. And hey, maybe your friends and family have different preferences than mine do. Maybe you need to find another recipe to fill this role. But you must know that there's a recipe out there, and not even a particularly alluring one or a particularly difficult one, which people will bring up in unrelated conversations to you four years later.

If I so much as say the word cake, my family all turn to face me like a pack of hungry wolves. Even the ones that don't like food!! Health nuts and people who simply don't enjoy eating and people with no appetite and people I have no goddamn memory of ever having cooked for, all of them come up and say to me "Hey remember that cake-" I asked my brother and his girlfriend what foods they're looking forward to, when they return home after three years in Japan, and they say "You know that cake?"

It doesn't sound particularly appetizing. I only made it the first time because it was gluten free and I had a bunch of lemons. Please don't let the name inform your opinion here. This is a fairly fast and simple cake that requires no special equipment and people will literally never stop asking you for it.

It's not even my favourite cake! I'd rather have basque burnt cheesecake, which is harder and more expensive to make and consists almost entirely of fat and sugar but still manages to be a little savoury... But people want the weird corn one.

To be fair, this is the only cake that'll make me dip my fingers into boiling sugar without regret.

[machveil]

Konig attempting to sneak snacks during meetings and whatnot, and he manages to get them in his shroud with ease, but he always picks the noisiest damn snacks, like corn nuts or chips or popcorn, so he’s seemingly completely still but you can hear the muffled munching.

-🐸

König is a big man, he needs to eat so much to maintain a healthy weight. even though he packs away well over 2,000 calories daily, some days almost topping 3,000, he can’t help but snack throughout the day. running on an empty stomach usually has him cranky and irritable - a menace on deployments when he has rationed food

König tries so hard to get away with sneaking food wherever he goes. he doesn’t take his hood off so he usually tries to hide small snacks under it. he can get away with it too, as large as he is, he’s stealthy in some regards. he’ll walk into a briefing or meeting, full of confidence and standing tall, just to sit in the back. he claims it’s so people don’t have to see around him, in reality it’s so he can pull out a little baggie of food

König has some favorites, a good bag of Chex mix is usually his go-to for meetings. he gets some good variety while only bringing one bag. he’ll take out his little ziplock from his hood, bring it under the table, get a good handful and stuff his mouth - the problem? it’s Chex mix, it’s crunchy and loud even with his hood muffling the sound

and again, König’s stealthy and quick with this. there’s very audible crunching going on in the quiet room. you never see him do it, but it only happens when he’s in a briefing. people have started putting two and two together… but he’s still a Colonel, and they don’t have hard evidence. no one wants to accuse König, some days he pretends to glance around like he’s looking for the perpetrator - still chewing his mouthful

[secretsandwritinggs]

Baby, you're my sugar

pairings - Cobra Kai characters x you/non-binary reader

kg's notes - i just wanted to make something that was cute, fun, and overall a new layout of how I would present my headcanons. so here are the Cobra Kai characters sharing their favourite sweets with you, because they love you!

Demetri Alexopoulos - he would really love to share a Whatchamacallit or Cherry airhead with you and tear off small pieces and feed them to you. he goes from doing that to having it in his mouth to 'feed' you like that when you know the truth is he wants a kiss from you which you happily accept with chocolate on your face from the Whatchamacallit.

Miguel Diaz - he would love lots of Spanish candy and would tend to bring you back a lot of it, especially since he makes frequent trips to Mexico to visit family. the different varieties and textures make you both excited (and nervous) to try them and he'll make sure to take note of which candies you prefer so the two of you can enjoy them together, even if some of them aren't in his personal preferences but he likes seeing you happy.

Robby Keene - he's definitely spicier than anything actually sweet, but he tries to get something not so spicy for you to try, which makes you scoff and say you could handle it. he looks at you funny knowing that you're either lying to him or telling him the truth, either way he's intrigued about how motivated you are to try his "spicy" candies. if he doesn't eat candy he shares the corn nuts with you and you say the ranch flavor is your favourite.

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz - he's the type who really appreciates sour candy and if you don't like it he's willing to share his dark chocolate with you. he wasn't raised eating candy, so you two would share a slice of fruit like: watermelon, apple, orange, or whatever kind he has in his pantry the moment. you actually started his love of chocolate (he would never admit this to your face but he would tell Demetri and Anthony) after telling him to get you some during your period since it helped you with the cramps, even though he retorted with a banana when you asked for the chocolate.

Anthony LaRusso - he would get the little variety packs like Kit Kats, Buenos, or anything chocolate related. he's not a big fan of regular-sized or larger chocolate (like King-size Hershey bars), since it now makes him uncomfortable to eat so much chocolate again. he would unwrap it and feed it to you instead of allowing you to make it yourself, although he would only allow you to take a couple of pieces of chocolate before hiding it in his room. he got better at hiding candy because you were sneaking around while he was trying to hide it once.

Samantha "Sam" LaRusso - similarly to Eli, she would rather eat fruit than real candy, but she sometimes eats real candy and it normally comes from Italy instead of here, America. she's not a fan of chewy or gummy candy, so the cappuccino candy she likes comes as a hard candy to make it last longer, plus she says it's better than the coffee you might get at a coffee shop. you're on the fence about that. it's not your favorite thing while it's hers and you offered her yours to see if she would like it and that is to be determined…

Tory Nichols - she's used to sharing a lot of things especially with her brother (Brandon) because that's all she knows, so it's no surprise when she offers you pieces of her chocolate. she's more on the bitter side of things like something rich—an espresso or a cappuccino if you will for her chocolate, although there are rare times when she would eat Sour Patch Kids or Jolly Ranchers (blue raspberry and watermelon are her favorite flavorus).

[I will add Kenny, Shawn, Aisha, and the adults depending on how well this does and I still need to finish my fic and the last two suggestions in my drafts right now]

[tieronecrush]

🎃 trick or treat 🎃

summary: it's halloween and joel's taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.

wc: 10k (oops?)

warnings: established relationship/married, canon divergent (no outbreak, ellie & sarah are both his kids, sort of obscure with if they're both his bio kids/your kids - basically y'all are a cute lil family either way! also joel is ~40, no age mentioned for reader!), halloween, family/group costumes, DOMESTIC JOEL!!!, fluff, body insecurities, age insecurities, joel has minor sensory issues?, his kids poke fun at him, sensitive joel, SMUT. it kind of is a thing for the basically the second half, descriptions of joel's body, tummy & thigh worship, oral (m receiving), cowboy rule (for a costume), unprotected piv, lowkey sub!joel for a lil bit, reader is "giving cunt" according to bestie el, then quickly gets back to dom!joel as he gets his confidence back, joel gets that strength in an adrenaline rush that moms get lifting cars off babies but his is for chasing a nut, also, dirty talk!

a/n: my contribution to spooky season, basically at the buzzer lol. this started with me thinking how cute it would be for joel to dress up and go trick-or-treating with his kids, and ended with wanting to s*** his d*** big time. anyways, enjoy my version of halloween with joel, and thank you to @kiwisbell for screaming about this scenario with me and as always a big thanks to my sweet, sweet girlfriend @northernbluess for beta-ing!!!!

Brought on much later than the northern states, fall in Texas is not quite an impactful sight. The one thing that can’t be beaten though is the Texas sun; shining across expansive horizons all times of year, temperatures of the light shifting with the seasons. Orange evening sun stretches across the sky and seeps down in between the leaves speckled with changing colors while Joel’s truck coasts down the neighborhood street. Kids retreat from running around in the road when his car approaches, returning right back to their gameplay when he’s through. Half are dressed up, a medley mix of witches, zombies, vampires, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney Princesses, and countless outfits that he has no idea what they’re referencing.

Fibrous, white faux spiderwebs litter the front porches of the houses lining the street, Jack-O-Lanterns carved and lit up stack on the stairs or create a path along the front walkways. Some of the pumpkins’ faces are wrinkly and sagging, signs of overeagerness from when the fall season started earlier this month. A handful of scarecrows find themselves pitched in the middle of yards with hay spilling out of them, and some of the houses have turned out an expense to get those motion-sensor decorations — the ones really intended to scare the kids that will be unleashed on the neighborhood to trick-or-treat this evening.

Rolling to a stop as he turns into the asphalt driveway, throwing the truck in park, he sits in the cab for a still moment, staring at the signs of life scattered around his family’s house. Four pumpkins, gutted and showing off their faces, a family feud that reached a compromise when it was decided that yes, they would carve pumpkins but no, they would not sit to rot on the front porch all month long; the corn stalks wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied with burlap twine and arranged with sprigs of fall foliage; pots of colorful mums framing the path up to the house, carefully selected by your eye and less delicately planted in their terracotta vessels by Joel’s hands. 

Aside from the seasonal decorations, the usual markings of the Miller family were easily spotted: chalk drawings on the shared sidewalk in front of the yard and along the driveway, replaced every weekend by Sarah once the old was washed or worn away; Ellie’s bike discarded on the front lawn, small tire tracks digging up the grass, no matter how many times Joel and you have asked her to put it away when she’s done; the porch swing that Joel built for you, swaying in the breeze and now unoccupied — unusual for the evening routine around the time that Joel comes home from work. He’s normally greeted by his girls, not merely their artifacts. But tonight is a different night, much busier than the slow, molasses life Joel gets to enjoy in the colder weather.

Gathering his lunch bag from the bench seat and bunching up his jacket in the same hand, Joel climbs out of the car and walks into the open garage, leaving his tools behind in the flatbed to be dealt with tomorrow morning. Passing your parked car, he shakes his head with a subtle smile as he closes the driver’s side door of your SUV left open. He can picture you now, running around after picking the girls up from school, mental space occupied by getting everything and everyone together to make it out the door before the sun went down completely. 

There’s a trail of evidence to support his musings: a lonesome plastic bag filled with groceries left on top of the car, Sarah’s purple jacket looped through the handle of the garage fridge, probably left behind after she went looking for a juice, and Ellie’s army green backpack tossed on the ground in front of the shoe racks lining the wall next to the door. None of that would fly had you been your usual focused self — more often than not, you’re the parent to put their foot down and keep the girls in line while Joel is the total pushover.

Along his way inside, he picks up all the left-behind items, balancing everything in his hands while he steps into the mudroom. Ellie’s backpack gets shoved into her designated cubby, and Sarah’s jacket gets wrapped on a hook screwed into the wall as Joel kicks off his work boots. After depositing his own belongings in their spots, lunch bag in his cubby and jacket on the hook next to Sarah’s, he grabs his boots in one hand, leaning out the doorway to place them on top of the shoe rack. Closing the door behind him, he picks up the singular bag of groceries left on top of your SUV and pads across the tile further into the house. Immediately, he’s embraced by the warmth radiating from the kitchen, the smells of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more wafting into his nose causing a smile to stretch across his face and his stomach to rumble. 

Every year that he’s known you, without fail, you use Halloween night as an excuse to cook up your family-favorite chili recipe. Sure, it doesn’t get too cold for October in Texas, but damn, does he look forward to the night every year simply for a bowl of it. Laboring over the prep and slow-cooking it all day long, anyone who tries it can taste the care in each bite; like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders that lasts with him for the entire evening spent outside with the kids.

The pleas of his stomach lead him straight into the kitchen, his smile growing wider when he sees you standing over the kitchen counter, affixing a sheriff badge to the cow print vest laid out in front of you. He strides over to your side, resting his palm on your lower back and swiping his thumb against the material of your shirt while he leans in to press a kiss to the top of your head, drinking in your scent and feeling the ache of missing you all day. Losing focus from your task, you turn toward him with a bright smile, a quiet sigh leaving your lips, and your shoulders relaxing from their tensed position. Wordlessly, he folds forward, catching your lips in a lingering kiss. Heat pushes against his chest through his denim shirt, your hands skating from his pecs, up and across his shoulders, and down his arms to rest on his biceps. The motions raise goosebumps in their wake, trailing down his spine with a tepid drip.

Joel steals another kiss before he stands up straight again, voice rasping from yelling over powerful tools all day and volume low to keep the semblance of a private moment between the two of you for as long as possible; anything louder would expose his arrival, bombarding him with questions and conflicts to resolve between his daughters.

“Hey, baby.” He greets you with one fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead, hand at your lower back now rubbing side to side, fingers carefully lifting the fabric and pressing the tips of them into your deliciously soft skin. 

Turning back to the vest, you drop your hands from his arms not before giving them a gentle squeeze, “Hi, Joel. Good day?”

He shrugs, unable to step away from you just yet, “It was fine — much better now. And I take it yours has been a busy one?”

Joel holds up the plastic bag of groceries with two fingers, one corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk. His hip pops out as he leans against the counter, the smirk turning into a smile when you grimace. His heartbeat skips when your laugh fills his ears, the sound still exciting him after all these years, and you stand over the bag to take a peek inside.

“S’all good. Non-perishables.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle as he places the bag on the counter, unloading its contents into the pantry while you go about recapping your day for him.

In the midst of you speaking, the tumble of footsteps down the stairs draws his attention away, eyes focusing on the open threshold that leads from the living room into the kitchen. As the quickened steps grow closer, Joel turns to you and holds up three fingers, counting down with them. When he lowers his last finger, a mop of curly hair, a bouncing ponytail, and a whirlwind of chaos disrupts the initial peace of his return home.

“Hi girls, how was today?” he starts before a cacophony of noise fills the kitchen. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he exchanges a look with you before facing his daughters, already overwhelmed with their two voices talking over the other.

“Dad, Dad, Sarah said—”

“Dad, Ellie’s saying that I said—”

Holding his hands up, he flicks his eyes between his two girls. Sarah, the older of the two at eleven years old, stands in front of him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed — a look he is all too familiar with, the similarities between him and her emphasized with her annoyance. Ellie, your youngest, stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her mouth twisted up in frustration and the same furrowed brow as her sister. She looks so much more like you at the moment, only a nine-year-old version, calling back on times Joel can remember of you giving him that very look.

However, with their tempers, there’s no doubt that they’re his kids.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before addressing them.

“So, what’s going on now?” he asks, brows raising and head tilting when the girls each take a sharp inhale, about to speak over each other again, “One at a time. Ellie.”

Sarah rolls her eyes at her younger sister being called upon first, expectantly looking at her sister with annoyance still painting her face. Ellie shoots her a smug look before turning back to Joel, drawing a pout onto her lips to sell her story. He can’t say it doesn’t work for a second, it always will with these two and they know it, but with a quick glance in your direction, he sees you turned away from your task, watching the drama from the sidelines. Mustering the strength to stand his ground against the sweetness of his girls, he clears his throat and listens with his best poker face as Ellie begins explaining.

“Sarah said she wouldn’t trade all her Skittles for my Three Musketeers even though she knows I hate Three Musketeers and she said last week when we were getting our costumes that she would—”

“I never said that, Dad! She’s lying—” Sarah gestures with her hands as if to physically point out the obvious falsehoods in Ellie’s story. Spiraling back out of the fleeting control he had over the situation, the kids get riled up again, yelling over each other, and inching closer. The dad-instincts kick in and he grabs one of each of their shoulders, separating the two of them and turning them to face him again as he puts on what you affectionately call his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.

“Okay, okay, okay! Enough arguin’ about candy that you don’t even have yet. Ellie, you don’t even know if a single house is gonna give ya Three Musketeers, and you don’t even know if Sarah is gonna get any Skittles. Save the trade negotiations for tonight or tomorrow morning. ‘Sides, you gotta pay the Dad Tax before either of y’all get to trade around your pickings.”

“What?”

“No way!”

Joel smiles, waving his pointer finger between his daughters with a single nod of his head. “See? Something y’all can agree on. Now go get washed up for dinner and plot how you can hide your candy from me and Mom.”

As quickly as they came in, they rush right back out, this time a united force scheming against their parents. Joel huffs out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself as he turns back to face you. Met with a growing smile, you unravel your arms crossed in front of your chest to pick up the vest from the counter.

“Nice conflict resolution there, hon. Now I won’t see a single piece of candy.” You throw a pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as he steps over to you, one hand splaying on your hip and thumb rubbing languid circles.

“Don’t worry, baby, I think I know every single one of their hiding spots from how many times they had to move their candy last year. They won’t even notice anything's gone.” With a quick wink, he leans in for a kiss, short and sweet. Standing up straight, the smile on your face mirrors his, your left index finger reaching up to fit into the valley of his dimple.

“Are we bad parents to be scheming how to steal from our children?” you question, biting back a laugh.

“I think that’s just part of parenting, darlin’.”

The laugh you held back escapes you, rolling your eyes playfully at his facetious answer; the vest in your hands catches his eyes again, and he sighs to himself as he holds a hand out for it.

“So you really did find a cow print vest for me? How lucky.” Sarcasm coats his tone and you lift the material, depositing it in his open palm.

“It is lucky, isn’t it? I think you’re going to look great in your costume. Got all the perfect parts, plus you can wear your own jeans and boots. Economical.”

“You sure you need me for this group costume?”

“Joel. You’re literally one of the main characters from the damn movie. And the girls really want you to dress up and take them trick-or-treating. Plus it’s probably going to be one of, if not the last year that we get to do all this as a family. Our kids are growing up.”

“Don’t remind me, means m’getting older too,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes falling to the fabric in his hand.

It’s true what they say about having kids: the days are long, but the years are short.

At times, Joel wishes he could pull each hair out of his head instead of dealing with the shit his kids bring to him sometimes — “Dad, I got called into the principal’s office.” “Dad, I threw a softball and broke the window.” “That’s so unfair, Dad! Why do you have to be so mean?” It’s easy to get lost in the mess that is his family, but it’s a mess he loves. It feels like it was only yesterday that he was becoming a father when Sarah was born, getting a grasp on the whole thing and then Ellie came along. What he would do without you there by his side, he doesn’t have a clue.

Like flipping through a scrapbook, he can remember every year prior for his girls. In a flash, they’ve grown from dressing up as princesses and unicorns — a dragon for Ellie — to being Spy Kids and vampires. His oldest is verging on becoming a teenager, and if he knows his daughters, he knows that once Sarah quits dressing up each year, when she asks to go to her friends’ houses instead of spending the night with Mom and Dad, Ellie will want to do the same as her older sister, always looking up to her despite their differences.

There’s only so much more time for his kids to be kids, even if they may always feel like the tiny baby girls he held in his arms. All he wants to do is to protect them, keep them under his eye as long as he can, but he can hear your voice prying his grasp away from them, encouraging him to let them grow, let them experience the world as he got to do when he was younger. You’ll remind him that you were a teenage girl once, reassuring him that they’re always going to need him. He knows it’s all going to sneak up on him; one day, he’s going to pull into the driveway and notice the lack of chalk drawings. He might even be happy at first about Ellie’s bike being put away, but when he goes into the garage to work on some of his projects, he’ll notice the smallest bit of dust on it from disuse.

Stepping away from him to shuffle across the kitchen, you reach on your tiptoes to pull out four bowls from the cabinet. Joel steps over behind you, a hand on your back as he intercepts your movements, grabbing the ceramic dishes and handing them to you.

Like a shadow, he follows behind you as you walk over to the pot filled with dinner, eagerly watching over your shoulder with his chest pressed against your back and hands on your waist as you lift the lift. Aromas waft with the steam rising, the delectably rich dish slowly bubbling as it finishes melding altogether. It smells like home, always the mark of the changing of the seasons in the Miller household, and one of the little traditions that he so appreciates you creating for your family. Just like the way you make crinkle cookies and still sign presents from Santa at Christmas, despite the fact that your daughters found out about that a couple of years ago from a yappy kid at school.

Joel was very close to driving over to his house and letting his parents know how he felt about their kid murdering the magic of Christmas for his girls.

All he can hope is that these little traditions continue even when the girls are grown up; the four of you gathering around the table for your annual chili dinner before they head off to hang out with friends and you two are left to watch cheesy Halloween movies and hand out candy to children that remind you of your daughters.

With another deep breath, warmth surrounds him. Joel’s lips find the spot just under your ear, kissing gently before he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Smells so good, baby. Have I told you how much I love you?”

A breathy, incredulous laugh falls from your lips as you stir the pot’s contents around, your smile sticking around as you counter, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”

A dramatic, exaggerated gasp sharply inhales into his lungs, standing up straight and patting his hands on your sides, “Absolutely not, darlin’. I love you all the time—”

“But especially when I feed you,” you finish, turning out of his arms to grab the stack of bowls. He stops your motions by wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling the press of you against his torso and relishing in the heat of your body against his. Curling up like a cat in the sun, he nudges his nose against your hairline, peppering kisses along the contours of your face.

In between kisses, he says word by word, over and over, “I. Love. You. My. Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. Wife.”

“Alright, alright! Gosh, you’re clingy,” you tease, leaning back to look into his eyes with a playful glint in your eye and a smirk held tight in your lips, “I love you too, my beautiful, wonderful, incredible husband.”

Your free hand smooshes his cheeks together and tugs him down gently to exchange a tender kiss. It ends much too soon for Joel, him chasing your lips and pouting when you turn away to start serving up dinner.

“Better go tell the girls dinner’s ready before they’ve finished plotting how to stow away candy in the floorboards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, punctuating the conversation with a cheeky smack to your ass, scampering away quickly before you can pretend to scold him.

Tugging at the material across his stomach, Joel combs his eyes over his reflection in the mirror of your en-suite bathroom. Rolling his shoulders back, the fabric of the yellow and red plaid flannel pulled taut, lifting the hem a couple of inches and showing off the skin of his softened tummy. Dark curls of hair litter the center of the sliver of skin, trailing down under the waist of his dark wash jeans. He doesn’t bother tucking the shirt in, giving himself the breathing room of the few inches at the hem. Fingers grip the thick fabric, sharply pulling it back down to lay over his jeans again.

Picking up the cow-print vest you were adorned with the plastic gold Sheriff badge downstairs in the kitchen, he’s taken back to a few weeks ago at the Halloween store.

You and he had opted to spend Saturday morning taking Sarah and Ellie to pick out their costumes for the holiday, letting them run free until they decided on a shared costume for once. Sarah quickly picked out her size in the Jessie costume, and all of the family agreed to be different characters from the Toy Story movie.

Ellie wandered the aisles, searching for the perfect combinations to create her ideal costume, which was, of course, the mechanical spider toy with the baby doll head that the kid Sid builds in the film. She returns to where Joel is standing with you, staring at the walls of costumes to find something for the both of you; he looks down at his youngest, jumping minutely when he’s faced with a mutilated baby doll mask, shiny plastic reflecting him in the surface.

“Ellie. You can’t be the creepy baby doll,” he sighs, hand falling to his hip as he rests his weight on it, the other leg stepping out while he slowly shakes his head.

Tipping the mask up to the top of her head, Ellie stomps her feet, shoulders falling and head leaning back as she groans in complaint, “Why not, Dad?” She draws out his parental title, kicking the toe of her shoe against the buffed tiles of the storefront that remains empty eleven out of twelve months of the year.

“You’re gonna scare the little kids, and it’ll be your mom and I who are dealing with the angry parents.”

Ellie huffs out a breath, reaching up to snatch the mask off, turning on the heel of her sneaker, and stomping off to go find another costume. Turning his attention back to you at his side, he notices a cheeky smile on your face as you find your size in a woman’s Buzz Lightyear costume.

“What? What are you laughin’ at?” he questions, his lips tugging up in a grin.

“Oh, nothing. Jus’ that you told our daughter she can’t be the creepy baby doll 'cause you’d be the one scared of her.” A laugh takes over the end of your sentence, a flash of your bright smile widening his own.

“Did not. It’s ‘cause we’d have a bunch of crying little kids and judging parents to deal with.”

“Sure, honey, sure. It’s okay if you’re scared.”

Stepping closer to you, he pinches your side playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking softly, “Know me too well, baby…”

Your free hand pats his chest affectionately and you unravel from his hold. Joel takes your hand before you get far, intertwining your fingers together while you both shuffle along the wall of costumes. The plastic bags shine, displaying cartoonish outfits of various characters. The exaggerated smiles of the models give him the heebie-jeebies, shuddering his shoulders at the thought that any grown person would be that excited to wear itchy polyester once before letting it collect dust in their closet and giving it away before next Halloween.

Halting in front of the costume you were looking for Joel, you bend down to flick through the sizes, your lips pulling together in a thoughtful pucker. Standing back up straight next to him, your teeth toy your bottom lip left to right, eyes scanning for any other options before you turn toward him.

“Can’t find what you’re lookin’ for, baby?”

With a shrug, you respond, “They have the costume the girls wanted you to wear, but they don’t have your size. Think I can find some stuff at the thrift store or TJ Maxx or online to make the costume up if that’s okay—”

“Whatever you need to do. S’fine.”

“I’m sorry, hon, but you don’t need to worry about it, I’ll find everything.”

“Said s’fine, darlin’. Don’t even need to dress up, really.” A small seed of shame is planted in his gut, insecurity watering it and causing it to grow, branching off to tangled in his chest. Comfort eases him out of the spiral when your hands find his chest, rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his gaze with pure affection.

“Still gotta dress up with us, hon. Who’s gonna be the Woody to my Buzz if it isn’t you? Can’t dress up as one half of the best friend duo without my best friend,” you grin, standing on your toes to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, which ends too soon for his taste despite being in the middle of the shop.

Vest shrugged onto his shoulder, and he gives himself another once over in his full outfit, the same insecurity from a few weeks ago pouring down to cultivate his shame. He doesn’t look the same as he did when he met you, even the same as he did last year. Graying hair and salt and pepper beard, lines next to his eyes and across his forehead, only deepened when he furrows his brow at the look of him in his costume.

He looks ridiculous.

Better to get this night over with, let his girls enjoy themselves, and attempt to forget his discomfort in the outfit. Picking up his cheap cowboy hat that arrived in the mail earlier that week, he avoids another look in the mirror before he slips out of the bathroom, eyes focused on the toes of his boots while he walks out the door of your bedroom, past the full-length mirror next to your closet and the small round one on your vanity.

No need to foul his mood and spoil the fun. It’s for his girls. 

The screams and laughter of children echo into the deepening night sky, the street bright from the lamps lining it along with porch lights staying on, open garage doors, all signaling a welcoming to the trick-or-treaters to come and grab their haul from each vast bowl or cauldron of candy.

Blurs of costume cross below Joel’s sightline as he walks hand-in-hand with you, kids running around blindly, the safety of such a crowd in the small neighborhood blanketing them with trust that they’ll be able to find their way home wherever they end up. Sarah and Ellie are ten paces ahead, moving quickly and efficiently to “maximize their candy collection”. Ellie’s words, after she presented her hand-drawn map of their neighborhood and the one across the main road, highlighting which houses are notorious for King Size treats and noting which ones give out toothbrushes or nothing at all.

The collar of his flannel is tightened around his neck from the string of his chestnut cowboy hat. Pulled down to rest on his clavicle, the body of the hat swings against his back as he walks, only adorning the top of his head for a few photos that you insisted on dragging out the tripod and self-timer for in the middle of the living room. He took the rest of the photos you wanted, maybe a bit too eagerly getting out of the frame and relaxing the slightest bit behind the camera. Photo evidence of how laughable he looks does not need to exist en masse. With a sigh, he reaches a hand up to tug the string down for what feels like the tenth time in thirty minutes of walking, relief felt for a few seconds before it slides back up to the base of his throat, flipping up the collar of his shirt with it.

Denim from his dark wash bootcut jeans starts to dig into his hips, roughening the skin there from his strides and their inch-too-small size from the year prior. These were deemed his “nice” jeans, per your request, only pulled out a handful of times a year for occasions that he was meant to look nicer than his raggedy Levi’s, covered in spots from paint, wood stain, oil, or dirt, the fraying, white strings hanging from the hems and ripping when caught under his step — all the signs of his day-to-day life. What he’s comfortable in.

These — these are not comfortable, not worn in enough to feel buttery against his skin, and not returning to his size even after washing and line drying. These are stiff, formed to his skin and resisting a tightness with each swing of his legs. The fresh material rubs against his bare skin underneath, the waist of his boxers falling an inch or two down to create the perfect space for the waistband to chafe. He’s tempted to pause the two of you walking along, long enough to tuck in the material of the flannel, but quickly decides against it when he thinks about the exaggeration of his stomach with the form-fitting, tucked shirt stretched over it.

Occupied in his thoughts, he barely notices that you've slowed down until you come to a stop at the end of a driveway, two streets over from your own home, waiting as your daughters wait in line for their packaged sugar. 

You hold onto his bicep with your opposite hand, leaning your weight against his side. Like a weighted blanket, in the interim of a hug from you, he takes on the change to his equilibrium, relishing in the comforting press of your body against him. Easing away his anxieties and his insecurities that, of course, had to be present for this wholesome, once-a-year family night; he rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your rosemary and mint shampoo, tingling his nostrils and drinking down the scent he’s so familiar with.

His focus draws to Sarah, hair in a French braid pulled away from her face and cherry red cowboy hat on her head, and Ellie, lime green face paint that she insisted on and an antenna sticking up from the top of her head and exaggerated, pointed green ears all attached to the same headband. The two of them are near the front of the queue for candy at this particular house, the process a bit more involved with a haunted graveyard required to pass through to earn your sweet reward. 

All she’d been saying the whole night since getting dressed had been “The claaaaaw!” or “I have been chosen!”. She screams the latter in the face of a teenager who pops out from a bush to scare her, completely unphased as she sneaks past him, grabbing a handful of candy for her and Sarah, running back down the path with her older sister before they pause to distribute the goods.

Joel lifts your joined hands, hooking his arm over your shoulder and laying your arm across your chest as he gathers you closer.

“So how many cavities do you think we’ll be paying for ‘cause of tonight’s candy haul?” he wonders aloud, a smile ticking up the side of his mouth when you giggle at his joke. It never gets old, being able to make you laugh, and it’s like a weed whacker to the strangling vines of his insecurities growing tightly in his chest. A looseness that gives him the chance for a deep breath, gratitude wilting the branches as he studies the grin on your face, the admiration twinkling in your eyes.

“Probably should be callin’ the dentist to see if they have a two-for-one discount.” It’s his turn to laugh at your response, tautening his arm around your shoulders to tow you closer to him, your head tilting back as you swing your front toward him. Joel bends his neck, pecking your lips with a smile before he looks back toward his daughters walking back to the two of you.

Annoyance thumbs the bruise of shame, driving his frustrations higher; his hand reaches up again with a huff, yanking the string away from his neck, “Thing’s like a damn noose…”

“Jus’ take it off, hon, I’ll carry it for you,” you sweetly suggest, swinging your joined hands between your bodies.

“But, you got it for me…” he mumbles guiltily, a worry in his voice over your potential irritation with him. Ever the masochist, Joel argues with you, not wanting to disappoint. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut—

Pausing in your steps, you hang behind him long enough to snatch the hat off his back, releasing it from around his neck and depositing it on your head in one smooth movement. Taking his hand again, you continue, unphased by his complaints and happy to hold onto the new accessory.

At the next house, the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the girls; Joel taps the side of his pointer finger on the brim as you look up at him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as a thought distracts from his festering doubts. His voice lowers, rasping as he speaks only to you, attempting to disguise the conversation from all the people milling about.

“Y’know, there are consequences for stealing a cowboy’s hat, baby.” Wetting his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue, his hands drift to your waist, fingers stretching to skim the top of your ass, dangerously close to grabbing a handful in front of everyone.

“M’well aware of those consequences, cowboy. Why d’you think I took it?” You shoot him a wink that goes straight down below the belt, a brazen flash of mischief in your eyes, the reflections of yellow lamplight lighting them up further. 

Gripping his biceps, your nimble fingers squeeze gently while your thumbs rub massaging circles into his slightly flexed muscles. A nearly inaudible hum of a moan rolls from your chest, one of his hands gathering the polyester material of your dress tightly at the sound. Beckoning him to fold forward with one look, he molds his lips to yours in a supple kiss. It lasts only the length of an inhale, drinking in the taste of your lips before your warmth is fleeting, hands patting his chest in a signal to wrap it up.

He grumbles, irritation heating under his collar as he itches to get home and for the night to be over, now for more than one reason. You laugh softly at his annoyed pout, poking his chest as you tease, “What? Mad ‘cause you got a snake in your boot?”

“More like in my jeans…” he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and playfully jab his arm, shaking your head as you breathe out a chuckle from your nose.

“Nice, Miller. In a costume for a kid’s movie no less.”

He matches your laugh, shrugging when you turn in his arms, back to him as you await your daughters to make their way back to the both of you. His arms drape around your hips, tugging you into his chest to press against him comfortably, the plush-filled wings of your costume padding you against his torso. Lips find your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he responds, “What’s the saying from the movie? To infinity and beyond? Reckon that’s where I’ll be takin’ you by the end of tonight.”

“Joel!” you attempted to chide, your laughter exposing your real feelings over the suggestive comment, laying your arms over his. The girls walk toward the two of you, and he takes a second to press an open-mouth kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin before unfurling himself from you. A light smack on the side of your ass is the punctuation to the teasing, Joel standing up straight and taking your hand.

“Giddy-up, partner,” he murmurs before turning his attention to Sarah and Ellie, overly excited and completely calm. “Whatcha y’all get this time? Anything good?”

They answer over each other and he nods along, corralling them to start to walk to the next house, “Alright, mission accomplished at this house. Onto the next, we gotta get this wagon a-movin’! Only got another hour in me, girls.”

Protests whine against his announcement and your daughters start to walk faster, determined to complete their hit-list for the houses with the good stuff. You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Joel looks over at you, feigning innocence.

“What? Got a bad back, bein’ out in the cold makes it worse.”

Now back at home, the four of you are gathered in the living room, costumes all on still as you seek out the comfort and warmth of the soft furnishings and blankets. Joel lounges on the couch, you next to him, back leaning against his side while your legs stretch out on the rest of the sofa. Ellie and Sarah have taken to the floor in front of the coffee table, massive pillowcases dumped out and beginning to be sorted. Every so often, you or Joel get up with the sound of the doorbell, passing out candy to the dwindling number of trick-or-treaters. Eventually, the intrusion stops completely, the TV playing a bad, kitschy Halloween movie per the request of the girls.

They trade their earnings, and you and Joel steal on the sly, both from the bowl you were handing out and from Sarah and Ellie’s piles. Wrappers are strewn around the floor and across the surface of the coffee table, the sound of another torn open by the girls making you sigh and sit up.

Holding out your hand, you shake your head, beckoning for the treat with your fingers, “Okay, Ellie. No more candy. You’re not going to be able to go to sleep if you keep eating it now, it’s too late.”

Ellie whines, rolling her head back with a groan before pleading her case, “Please, Mom, just this last one! And then I’ll be done, promise. Please.”

Joel chuckles when she shoots you the same puppy dog eyes that he gives to you to get what he wants, knowing his smirk grows wider when you fold easily. Shooting your head over to him, you announce to the whole room, “No more candy for anyone. C’mon girls, put it all back in your bags.” 

Calmness finds itself back in the room once all the complaints are lodged with you, the girls lying down to watch the movie while you continue to sit with Joel. Spaced out as he focuses on the film, his attention is grabbed when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and glances around to find all three of his girls indulging further.

With the remote from his lap, he pauses the movie, pouting as he exclaims, “Hey! What happened to not havin’ any more candy? If I can’t have anymore, y’all can’t either.”

Sneaking the last bite of her fun-size Snickers bar, Ellie giggles and shrugs, always the smart aleck, “Well, you are gettin’ a little pudgy, Dad, maybe less candy’ll help.”

Sarah and you giggle at her lighthearted teasing, and Joel waves it off with a breathy chuckle, leaning back against the cushions as Sarah chimes in with her jests, “Yeah, think you’re getting a little fluffy, Dad. Better to lay off now than at Christmastime with all Mom’s cookies.”

Joel attempts to defend himself from the teasing by threatening their candy supply, eager to end the conversation as the back of his neck heats up, “If m’already gettin’ pudgy then I guess that permits me to eat all your candy.”

They both are in a fit of giggles, continuing to tack on silly comments as Joel sits quietly on the couch, trying to mask the way the words worm their way in, feeding the shame and insecurity that was already festering in his chest from the last few weeks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a smile as you laugh softly, “Alright, alright, enough. Think that’s the sign that it’s time for bed. C’mon, up up up.” Before standing, you pat Joel’s thigh and shoot him a carefully concerned look, but he wipes away your worry by sending you a warm smile back, laying his hand over yours and squeezing gently. 

Joel stays downstairs to clean up, the girls both saying goodnight before you follow them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Gathering candy wrappers in his fists, he throws them away in the kitchen, stomach rolling as he replays the small comments from minutes ago. He knows it was teasing, all in good fun as it always is between his girls and you, but he can’t shake the heaviness inside of him, the hot prickles of shame when he passes by the mirror in the hallway on his way back to the living room.

The bowl of extra candy you were handing out gets placed back on the coffee table, his silly cowboy hat from the evening deposited on top of it to hide the contents. Not that he was going to eat anymore, he couldn’t stomach even the thought of anything else when all he could think about was how much he desperately wanted to shed his skin at that moment. Breathing shallows when he settles on the couch again, one of his hands pressing onto the left side of his chest and willing his heart to slow down, for his brain to silence itself.

The skin of his palm meets the scruff of his beard, scratching against the roughened, worked skin. Grays in his hair, salt and pepper beard, wrinkles on his forehead and at the side of his eyes, softened tummy from years of love and care, from an easy life with you.

He certainly isn’t the same Joel that you met all that time ago, that you fell in love with. Have you noticed the changes as much as he has?

He swears you haven’t aged a day; all the more beautiful with each passing day.

Light steps carry you back downstairs, the sound shaking Joel out of his thoughts as you swing around from the staircase and through the entrance to the living room. Joel relaxes on the couch, the same spot he was occupying before, only sinking further into the cushion, shifting to pull the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach. Glancing up at you, away from whatever was playing on the TV that did nothing to distract him from himself, he sends you a tight smile, stretching an arm over the back of the couch to welcome you in.

Accepting it, you sit next to him, curling up into his side with your legs under you, leaning against his frame with your comforting weight. Your hand rests on his chest, your head on his shoulder while you both watch the TV movie playing. Silence falls between the two of you, minutes passing by with only the noise from the speakers, the volume turned low so as not to disturb the kids upstairs.

Joel feels your hand move against his chest, curling up to leave your pointer finger extended, the pad of it skimming against his flannel. He ignores the feeling, figuring it’s you fidgeting as you do while you focus. The same thing as twirling your hair while you’re reading, tapping your foot as you cook.

But when your hand stairs to wander, his eyes flick down to watch its path, your gaze still facing forward and quiet. With your thumb and index finger, you work open the first button on his shirt, trailing down with the rest undone in your route. Slipping under the material, your cold hand presses against his chest, nails scraping against the skin there. With a sigh at the contact, Joel finally uses his hand to gently caress your chin, turning you to face him.

Low and rasping, he questions, “What are you doin’ exactly, darlin’?”

Innocently, you shrug, bottom lip bit down on while your touch moves lower again, skimming across his stomach and reaching the waistband of his jeans, “Well, I still have to face the consequences from stealin’ your hat, cowboy.”

Fingers dip below his belt line, toying with the elastic band of his boxers. Slipping away, he almost protests at the loss, biting his tongue when you move next to him, sitting up on your knees while both hands reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. When his button pops from its secure place, he warns with a breathy exhale, “Baby…”

“Mhm, yes, honey?” you reply, words trailing up at the end, feigning naivety. Through your lashes, you send him a pout, tongue poking out to dampen your plush lips that he stares at, his mouth parted with heavy breaths. His blood is rushing from his head, leaving him feeling light, as it all pumps to his cock, your delicate and teasing touches getting him half-hard.

Before you can tug down his zipper, you pause, taking your hands off of him; he holds back a whimper, the sound dying as a low hum in his throat.

“Don’t worry, baby, m’not done yet. Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Your voice is soothingly saccharine, an eager nod being his only response. 

Shutting off the TV, you stand from the sofa and take his hand, snatching the cowboy hat from the coffee table before pulling him to stand and follow you across the main floor, down the hallway into your first-floor bedroom. Joel shuts the door behind him, your nod toward the handle serving as a reminder for him to flick the lock.

 “Y’know, honey, you’re always showing me how you feel about me. I think it’s time we had a night that’s all about you…” He’s holding in a breath as you stalk closer to him, shaking his head as the back of his neck heats up.

“No, baby, you don’t—I don’t…” he stutters before trailing off, ashamed that he can’t think of any other excuse than the truth of why he does not want the attention on him tonight.

“You don’t…?” Running your hands across the expanse of his chest, he drops his shoulders in, curling around to make himself smaller, one foot stepping back but he doesn’t move from under your touch.

Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, faintly confiding, “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I jus’, I’d rather give to you, baby.”

“Oh, Joel…you deserve it and more, honey. Why wouldn’t you?” Your fingers graze up, skating across his skin and carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not…not the same. I don’t look like who you fell in love with. Everything’s changing, catching up to me. Got gray hair and white in my beard and wrinkles and a beer belly startin’ and my back hurts all the time. M’not who I used to be but you—”

“Have changed, too. It’s not just you, Joel. Everything’s a little softer now, I’ve got wrinkles too. Found like four gray hairs yesterday and had a mild panic attack before I got into the shower. M’curvier and—”

“And you’re fucking beautiful, baby. You’re as beautiful, if not more beautiful than the day I met you.” He’s quick to defend your negative self-talk, his hands running delicately along the curves of your sides and around your lower back. Enveloping you in his arms, he presses your foreheads together, nose notched next to yours.

“That’s exactly how I feel about you, Joel. Don’t listen to us teasin’ you, especially me, ‘cause I wouldn’t change a thing about you…” As you tilt your head back, your nose grazes against his cheek, feeling a rush of heat from your breath as your lips hover over his, deliciously close to a kiss, “Can I show you what I think about you, honey?”

Joel nods, wordlessly waiting in anticipation; in the next breath, your lips crash into his, drinking him down deep while the hand at the back of his head tangles further into his hair and tugs. He moans, parted lips allowing you to lick into his mouth, whining at the taste of him before you push the flannel material from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as you continue to dominate the kiss.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. Joel follows your lead, carefully moving backward, your tongue melding with his. All he can focus on is the taste of you — sweet, fruity, with the tang of citric acid from all the sour candies you stole from the bowl, the softest hint of chocolate as an aftertaste from his indulgences. The flavors of you coat his mouth, the scent of your perfume and shampoo mixing in his nose, and the feeling of your soft skin in his rough palms when he hikes up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass; it all stirs together, creating an intoxicating cocktail of you that he can seem to taste enough of. Joel’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he’s being pulled away from your mouth with a pop when you ease him to sit down. Curiosity flashes in his mind, the sight of you over him with kiss-swollen lips growing the bulge in his undone jeans. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, beautiful?” His voice is lecherous as it comes out in a rasp, dripping with desire and a bit of wonder over what exactly you’re going to do with your night in control.

You shake your head at him, standing up straight and reaching for his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “Go ahead, baby. Take off as much as you want.”

His choice is obvious, tugging the fabric over your head with your help, a hand around your back yanking you to stand close, between his spread legs, while his fingers work open the clasp of your bra. Sitting back on his hands, he observes greedily as you let the straps fall down your arms, dropping the bra entirely onto the floor.

“These too?” Your thumbs hook into the waistline of your panties, doe-eyed and biting down on your body lip teasingly. Cotton-mouthed, Joel nods slowly, lips parted with shaking breath as you strip completely, sinking to your knees in front of him before he can reach out for a handful of your curves.

He lets you work his jeans down to his thighs, his boxers following in their wake, his cock springing free against his bare stomach. You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, the need to see every single one of your movements outweighing the drying of his eyes with his slow, infrequent blinking. Scooting to settle comfortably on your knees, you stand up straighter, gaining enough height to bend your head over his lap, lips meeting his soft tummy and hands gripping onto his thighs. Delicate kisses and ghosting touches on his skin raise goosebumps, a warm shudder trickling down his back at your tenderness.

“So handsome…” you whisper, grazing your teeth into the flesh of his torso, biting down to nip. “Y’know I think about doin’ this all the time, baby. Every time you take off your shirt, jus’ wanna sink my teeth into you.”

His cheeks heat with sincere attention, muscles in his abdomen flexing when you litter lovebites and heated, open-mouth kisses all over him, the gentle touches and desire to relax his anxieties slowly. The focus on your mouth drops to his thighs, turning your head to the side when you sit back on your haunches, licking a stripe up toward his aching cock, a quivering exhale from his mouth drawing your eyes to his face. A satisfied smile stretches across your face, kissing his inner thigh before mirroring the actions on the opposite side. His fingers curl into the duvet, gripping hard as your lips wander closer to where his stiff cock drips needily, throbbing for any kind of reprieve.

“You’re so pretty, baby. So strong, solid.” The sweet nothings tickle at the back of his neck, words that he’s sure you’ve spoken before, but at this moment, they raise his body temperature and lighten his head, the only thoughts being how much he needs you.

Standing on your knees again, you bend your neck over Joel’s lap, eyes flickering up to his face to look at him through your lashes. Your lips part, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto his waiting cock, the sensation making him hiss with urgency. One of your hands wraps around him and strokes slowly. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. One swipe of your thumb across his tip drags the beads of pre-cum from where they’re leaking, melting them into the mix of your saliva that lubricates your motions.

Searing needles pierce into his skin when you finally give in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his swollen length. Your thumb brushes against his tip again, another hiss of pleasure escaping from between his teeth. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you to ground himself.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the fresh dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. Humming satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, he looks down at you meeting his gaze, feeling the splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration of your light teasing. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’, please.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, and he’s lost in the delicious warmth of your mouth, unabashed in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Starting a slow bob up and down, he moans at the weight of him on your tongue, saliva coating the underside of his cock as he feels you curl the muscle against every vein. With half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t initially fitting inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, hyperaware that his cheeks are likely visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” You shift in your position slightly, thighs rubbing together and a chuckle rolls from his lips, smug in the need he’s drawing from you simply from enjoying his pleasure. A sigh exhales around him in your mouth as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your aches.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan rumbling from his chest, the reverberations sending aftershocks to the tips of his ears. At that point, he gets lost in the high feeling, his composure leaving him when his large hand at the back of your head pushes you down onto his cock, taking him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me,” he whines, heading tilting back as his eyes squeeze shut, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your head. “Gonna fuckin’ come, baby, holy fuck, I—”

A moan around him gurgles to nothing when he thrusts again, hand tangled in your hair pulling you back until his tip rests against your lips, “Don’t wanna—please—” His words are lost on the tip of his tongue, pleasure hazing his mind as he searches for the plea he wants to make with you.

You giggle from your knees, swiping your fingers to wipe away the drool from the corners of your mouth, a satisfied smirk on your face. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you push yourself up, standing in between his legs while your hands find his shoulders, scraping your fingernails against the curve of them.

“You wanna come inside of me? Not my mouth? Is that what you were trying to say, baby?”

“Yes,” he exhales, relieved to find the word he needed, blinking open his eyes to look up at you. Your thumb skates across his bottom lip, holding onto his jaw as you study his features.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Joel. Anything for my perfect, doting husband. D’you know how fucking good it makes me feel to make you feel good?” you question curiously, tilting his head as he lets you mold him whichever way you want. “Tell me how you deserve to have me like this. ‘Cause you’re so fucking good to me, tell me that you’re gonna let me fuck you, let me take your come inside of me.”

“Baby, I don’t think that—” he starts, palms pressing into the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you.

“Tell me, Joel. You said you wanted to be the one giving to me tonight. That’s what I want.” You use his earlier, shy request against his negative thoughts, and the intensity in your eyes bends him to your will.

“M’gonna let you have my cock, gonna let you fuck me and show me how much you love when I take care of you.” The words roll foreignly on his tongue, unconvincing coming from his mind to his mouth. You bend a knee, bringing it up to rest next to his thigh, nodding along to encourage him to continue, “I give you whatever I can give to you, and always gonna, baby. Now’s your turn to take care of me, right?”

“That’s right, honey. I should show you how much I appreciate you more often…you work so hard, give us exactly what we need, and provide for us. My big, strong man. You do so much for me, baby. Gonna show you how thankful I am for you, how grateful I am that you’re lettin’ me have this cock,” your words breathe hot against his ear, your other leg now straddling him on the bed, cunt hovering over his waiting cock. A hand leaves his shoulders, reaching between your stomachs to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance. His breath catches in his throat when you ease down onto him, pushing through the wet seal of your slit.

Wet heat envelopes him, taking in a few inches of him; Joel groans under you, head falling forward onto your breasts, forehead pressed into your sticky skin. One hand tangles into his curls, dragging his head back to look into your eyes. Your hips start to move, adjusted to his size easily and taking more of his cock, letting it split you open inch-by-inch. His eyes wildly search yours, seeing the pleasure overtake your mind, lips parting to match his as you both breathe out shallow, hot breaths.

“Fuck, Joel, so fucking big…” you whine for the first time tonight and the sound goes straight to his cock, twitching him inside of you as his hips jerk up, giving you another inch. Lust clouds his mind, nodding confidently as you take him, desperate to feel your tight, dripping cunt around him entirely.

“I know, baby, I know. Should’ve let me get you ready. But I bet you like the stretch, like a lil’ bit of pain, huh?” he coos, arm snaking around you to hold you closer, your eyes fluttering closed above him as you nod languidly.

“Fuckin’ love it, makes it feel even better,” you whimper when his arm tugs you down further, only an inch or two away from him being fully sheathed.

“C’mon, be my good girl, baby. Show me how you sit on my cock.” He leans forward, bending you backward with his force and holding you tight, his lips attaching to the soft, velvety skin of your breasts and biting, “Gotta face your punishment for stealin’ my hat. Take a cowboy’s hat, gotta ride the cowboy, babygirl. I don’t make the rules.”

You giggle, eyes clearing as you’re pulled out of your cloud of pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders and holding eye contact as you finally sink completely down, burying Joel’s cock inside your soaked pussy. Moans echo in the room, bitten down before they get too loud, your hips immediately finding a quick, sloppy pace to chase your highs. The slick glide of your walls grip his cock lusciously, your flooding arousal coating his balls as thighs as you ride him. Little noises slip from your mouth, simmering the coals burning in the base of his gut as he feels the familiar bliss building.

“Is this what I’m supposed to be doin’, cowboy?” you wonder, hips continuing their pace and mouth twisting as you hide a smile. Joel is unashamed, a wide grin on his face as he unravels one arm from you, picking up the hat from the corner post of the bed, and setting it loosely on top of your head. Giggles erupt from the both of you, your pace faltering as the muscles in his stomach cramp from use. 

Recovering from the interlude, your thighs rub against the outside of his as you bounce, nails digging into his shoulders as your rhythm picks back up, the slap of skin against skin the only noise save for your airy breaths that get shallower and shallower. Flames have ignited in his gut, licking inside and burning hotter and hotter the closer he gets. Nearly at the edge, he needs more, body taking over and lifting you with him as he stands, holding you up on his cock as he thrusts hard and quick into you, dripping for him and gripping him tight to keep yourself up while he fucks into you.

“Oh—fuck, Joel! Right there, m’gonna—oh!” Your desperate pleas in his ear pitch up as you moan, cunt tightening with a flutter around him as you come, soaking his dick as he continues his hard pace, selfishly chasing his high. 

A growl rolls from his chest when you come, his fingernails biting into the flesh of your ass, the slap of his balls against your skin as they draw up. His eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name, the first rope of his come released into your cunt, smaller whimpers following in its wake as he fucks one, twice more, filling you up as deep as he can.

Limbs feeling heavy, he turns you both around, pulling you off of him and dropping you gently onto the mattress. He flops down next to you onto his stomach, blissfully out of it as you move to straddle his back, fingers working the knots and soothing the aches growing there after a long week of work, and a night spent corralling your kids.

The warm press of your body against his back makes him hum contently, your breasts at his shoulder blades as you lay on him, one of his hands reaching the rub his fingers softly against the outside of your thigh.

“You know I think you’re the most handsome, right, honey?” you ask with a hint of worry in your voice, barely above a whisper. He nods, rolling over to his back underneath you and meeting your eyes, brow furrowed with concern.

“I know, baby. Jus’ was feeling weird this whole week. You made it a lot better, though.” A knuckle nudges your cheek, and you take the hat off, Joel chuckling again as you throw it off to the side of the bed. Laying down on him again, he strokes your hair while you hug yourself to his torso, both your eyes and his fluttering shut with exhaustion, from tonight and life in general.

Before drifting off, Joel speaks up, cheekily asking, “So…can I wear this costume next year, too?”

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[4theluvofsapphos]

Butterfingers - Ch. 2

Melissa Schemmenti x Futch Mechanic!Reader

A/N: no beta, but this is a shorter chappy but it's filler for big things i promise!!!! let me know how u like this one :3 enjoi!!!!

warnings: nada

chapter 1 here

tags: @10gay-keysmash01

Wandering through the halls of the school, you took your time– meandering about from machine to machine, checking stock. Nothing seemed to be amiss aside from a minor repair on the primary hallway vending machine. The thing seemed to have a busted display panel, so users wouldn’t know what they were picking, fate deciding whether or not their corn nuts would be barbeque or ranch. 

As you unscrewed the punch pad’s panel, you thought about your giant duffel bag carrying a cartel-sized amount of snacks for the teacher’s lounge. 

A small chuckle escaped your lips at the thought, something amused you about the idea of a bunch of adults wanting candy and Cheetos. In a way, you found it wholesome. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it, you thought. It made sense, they were around kids all the time– and kids had some of the best snacking inventory out of all of humanity. 

The sound of a familiar voice ripped you from your thoughts,”Hey new guy! What tech-centric genius IT thing are ya doin’ over there?” 

Janine jogged over to you, (miraculously) out of breath in the four hurried steps she had just taken. Your eyes glimmered with the question. 

You were always something of a teacher. Loving to teach, and more than that, loving to see people learn new things. There was something so satisfying about seeing the gears turn, before clicking things into place and watching a machine whir to life just as it should. 

“Oh! It’s nothing too serious, actually. The LCD here seems to be busted, so it’s just a matter of getting a replacement part and plugging these little wires back in right here.” You gestured to the small 5 pin wires needed to connect the screen to the rest of the vending machine. 

Janine nodded, clearly not entirely there. She seemed to be looking around for something, and her eyes lit up as soon as she (assumedly) found that thing…or person, rather.

You didn’t mind the dismissal from Janine– you knew your interests were boring to most, or just too complex for people to care about much. Rifling through your repair bag, you opened a large plastic container with multiple small compartments. Various pin wires, replacement nuts and bolts, and most importantly, a small handful of packaged LCD screens sat in the different compartments. 

Taking one out of its plastic, you stuck the container back in your bag, before looking over to Janine, only to see that she was waving down the fiery headed teacher from the day before. She was approaching rather quickly, alarmingly so, actually– how on Earth did a woman so petite move so damn fast?!

Brushing aside your unnerved feelings for the mach one woman racing towards you, you turned back to the pin holders still sticking out of the machine, connecting the red and blue wires, before going to connect the black and yellow ones. 

“What is it, Janine?” The woman grunted, seemingly annoyed she had to detour. “I’m boutta’ to be late for class, and so are you, kid. Whaddya even doin’ over here– oh.” 

The older woman’s gaze went from the beaming young teacher, to your face, before darting away. 

“Yeah uh. Hey.” She muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one heel onto the other. Something in you crumbled at her reaction to your presence. Did she really not like you? Maybe it was just because it was early morning…that’s what you told yourself to calm your rising anxieties. 

Smiling in response, you let out a little hum in greeting, before turning back to your work. 

Melissa clutched her jacket tighter around herself. You noticed she used it like her shield. Something hardened and tough to protect her, maybe? You didn’t have time to speculate– Janine hopped up, patting you on the shoulder and jogging off to class. 

“See you, y/n! Glad to see you’re settling nicely!” Janine yelled as she rounded a corner, disappearing.

“Oh- uhm! Bye!” You called after, turning to the machine, before looking over at Melissa, who stood there– seeming to hover, as if waiting for something. 

You looked up into those prying green eyes, lips pursing tight as you thought of what to say. 

Looking down to your duffel of snacks, you suddenly realized what she was likely waiting for. Grabbing the grey bag with one hand, you lifted the bag while standing up. Melissa followed your gaze, having to crane her neck to see your eyes. 

“Sorry about that, I totally thought you were waiting to talk to me– you probably want this, right?” You asked sheepishly, opening a compartment in the duffel, and handing her a small Butterfingers. The bright yellow packaging gleamed in the fluorescent light of the halls. 

Melissa’s brows knitted, an unreadable expression crossing her features before she smiled small. 

“Oh...thanks, hon.” She sighed, seeming almost disappointed. You cracked a smile at this, knowing she would’ve wanted more than just the one piece of candy. 

“I’m messing with you, red. I have this for you.” With a swift motion, you grabbed a quart sized Ziploc bag full of the glimmering yellow and blue candy. 

The redhead’s eyes bugged out to the size of dinner plates at your grand display. 

“Holy fuckin’-- damn it, you really didn’t hafta do all this! When I said some, I meant a few. Do you know what a few looks like?” 

Your features lit up with a nearly face splitting grin,”Several, right? Which is more than two, but not many, but many is a lot, and this is only a quart size. So by definition, you could say this is a few, isn’t it?” 

Melissa’s eyes rolled so hard they almost fell right out of her head, a smile threatening to spill onto her features. 

She gave a small laugh, and the sound had you grinning even harder, somehow. You presented the bag to her with two hands, the duffel half open on one arm, your tool belt on your other arm, and your repair bag hanging off of your wrist. You looked absolutely insane, but something about that fact seemed to endear Melissa.

She carefully took the bag, cheeks puffing out with how surprisingly hefty the bag was. “In any case, you’re absolutely insane n’ I think you’re crazy for this.” She chuckled halfheartedly, her features hardening to a level of genuine sincerity. “Thank ya, though…really. No one’s ever really done…this for me. Get me my favorite candy n’ what not. So. Yeah. Thanks..”

Before you could say anything back, Melissa turned on her heel and sped off (at that alarmingly fast speedwalk). You let a small puff of air out of your nose, something like a laugh. But you’d never laugh at Melissa Schemmenti. She wasn’t someone to be laughed at. Turning back to the LCD you’d been fixing, you plugged in the remaining connectors, before screwing the panel back on and plugging the machine back in. 

As expected, the screen flickered to life. You nodded to yourself, before standing up and heading to the teacher’s lounge. 

–

Melissa settled into her classroom while the kids went about writing their daily plans and writing prompt for the morning. Looking at the bag sitting in her lower left drawer, she noticed something sticking out of the mound of Butterfingers she’d recently come into possession of. Opening the bag, she grabbed the slip of paper, unfolding it carefully. 

Hey Red,

Hope you don’t hate me for my clumsy introduction. Found these fresh from the factory for you. 

Enjoy!

y/n

Melissa’s lips parted, before she quickly crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash. She couldn’t do this, not again. 

Not another repairman, not another relationship.

But if you were a woman, did that make it different?

[viaviv124]

Homicipher incorrect quotes

Mc: speaking of surprises, Crawly

Crawling: yea?

Mc: i've got something up my sleeve

Crawling: is it... A banana?

Mc: nO! It's an automated gun torrent! :D

Crawling: we're going to a candy store!?

Silvair: what? No! Candy stores are closed!

Gap: WE'RE GONNA ROB A CANDY STORE!? :D

Chopped: omagod u so tall you look like a giraffe :D

Scarletella: that's why you dead built like a baked bean

Chopped: a ba- A BAKED BEAN!? *bites his foot* BAKE BEAN THAT. BEAK BEAN THAT!

Mc: you're under arrest! Scarletella! Scar-face! Scar-poopy-poopy-butt!

Scarletella: you may be the- dont you ever fucking call me that again

Mc: what would you do if i was kidnapped?

Crawling: obviously come find yo-

Hood: nothing

Silvair: wait 20 minutes until they let you go voluntarily

Machete: i killed your entire family

Mc: huh? But i live alone-

Machete: huh? Then who were these people in your house-

Mc: there's people in my house!?

Machete: well not anymore! Dumb bitch! You could've died! You're welcome!

Mc: Crawly am i ugly?

Crawling: nonsense, you're the most beautiful girl in the world, i see you right now!

Hooded Child: Hood am i ugly :D

Hood: very much.

Mc: hold on, the phone's calling. Hello?

Telephone Guy: how do you say uh corn in cantonese?

Mc: sok mai?

Telephone Guy: HAHA SOK MAI NUTS *hangs up*

Mc: ... Well they're not my friend anymore.

Scarletella to MC: so i send u a lil smiley face

So you send back a lil smiley face

So i write hey

And you write back hey

And i say hey what

And you say you said hey first?

And then i say okay

Crossaint emoji

Fuck u

Chopped: smile :D

Bride: sweet :D

Nurse: sister :D

Silvair: sadistic :D

Gap: surprise :D

Crawling: service :D

Stitch: CRAWLING IS A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER

*cue music*

Mc: name a country that starts with V!

Silvair: venezuela!

Machete: FINLAND! FINLAND

Silvair: OH MY DAYS. LOW IT. YOU SAID WHAT???

Machete: finland?

Silvair: DON'T CHAT TO ME. YOU'RE JOKING

Silvair: SHE SAID F MAN

Machete: what did u say

Mc: V?

Silvair: v.

Machete: VENUS

Silvair: ARGHHH

Mc: you wanna take things up to the bedroom?

Human: sure. ...what's up there?

Mc: btw did you bring protection

Human: WHY WHATS UP THERE!?

Chopped: i am very small. And i have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that i am under.

Scarletella: and without looking up at me Hood said "You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair"

Machete: am i boring? Sure. Social skills? None. But i'm loyal if you feed me and i will never leave you because, well, i need the food.

Crawling: i wouldnt wish that on my worst enemy-

Hood: i would. I would wish it on my worst enemy and then a whole list of other people that dont even qualify as my worst enemy. I'm not "above things" and at this point i'm existing out of spite

Gap: Your uber instincts cant handle my uber autism. Observe.

[insert him being in the fucking textbox an yoinking mc through it, escaping scar]

MC: You enter the dungeon, and on the far end of the room, you see... a door!

Masque: Can I seduce the door?

MC: No you cannot.

Stitch: Can I seduce the door?

MC: ALSO NO.

Crawling: Can I punch Stitch?

MC: ... Uh Stitch you take 4 damage

Stitch: Well I transform into a beaver.

MC: You... do that.

Stitch: Now can I seduce the door?

MC: STILL, NO

Crawling: I punch Stitch again.

MC: 3 more damage.

Machete: Can I fight the door?

MC: No!

Wheelchair: I also would like to fight the door!

MC: NO ONE CAN FIGHT THE DOOR.

Machete: I FIGHT. THE DOOR.

MC: You lose!

Machete: I fight you.

MC: Machete, take a walk!

Scarletella: Is the door dead or alive?

MC: ITS A DOOR?

Scarletella: Can I enslave its soul?

MC: How would you- No!

Chopped: Can I build a better door?

MC: ... Do you want to build a better door?

Chopped: I acquire lumber from the surrounding forest!

MC: Okay you do that.

Silvair: ... Is the door locked?

MC: No it isnt!

Silvair: I open the door.

MC: You do so! Inside is one small treasure chest!

Masque: I seduce the treaure chest~

MC: NO.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Neighbor Yoongi x Teacher F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town Romance, They own a farm, Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance, 

A/N: A small teaser for my next story that won't come out until WHISPERED VOWS is complete.

“Kookie, let her talk,” Hobi scolded him.

“Y/N!” You look up and see Jungkook waving at you excitedly from under a large Tannie Farms sign. “You're here!” Jungkook comes around to the front of several white tables that stand under a large tent from where the sign dangles and hugs you tightly. Your eyes widened in surprise at the act of affection. You bring your hands up and tentatively pat his pat in return. “Are you back for good? Joon said, "Joon said that you're going to work at his school. Are you going to help us every weekend?”

“Sorry, I just really missed you,” he whispered to you. Guilt. You feel so fucking guilty.

Hobi and Jungkook showed you how to stack all the produce in wooden crates that they were going to sell and how to keep them looking presentable. The more uniformed they were, the more appealing they supposedly were. They chatted away telling you all of their ideas to expand their products at their spot here at the farmers market and in the local stores as you stacked and fixed the wooden crates like they showed you. They told you how they wanted to start selling baked goods using the fruits and eventual nuts that they grew, but none of them could bake that well. Jin was the closest to making something edible, but it just wasn't good enough. 

“I missed you too, Kook. Don't worry, there is plenty of time to catch up. Okay, show me what you want me to do,” you tell him, a fake smile plastered to your face. You link your arms together as you make your way to their spot. 

“You could help with that!” Kook said excitedly. “Your  breads were always so good when you made them in school. OH! Your birthday cakes were amazing. We always looked forward to everyone's birthday because of your cakes.”

“I never got one,” a deep voice soon joined the conversation. Yoongi walked by you carrying a crate of tomatoes.  

His dark hair that you always remembered him having was now a darker blonde. He looked the same, though. He looked good. He was still handsome with an arrogant aura around him that he always had. You were actually surprised that he was carrying something. You figured business and marketing manager meant a cushy office, not manual labor. Someone who would never give up his weekend to help work the crowd on a hot summer's day. You thought it was more suit and tie than flannel and ripped jeans. 

“We were never friends,” you shot back at him. 

Yoongi turned and pinned you down with a glare. You swear you can feel your cheeks heat up, and you don't know if it's from anger or attraction. Your small, very, very small, almost microscopic crush from high school might still linger….maybe. 

“Okay,” Hobi says, clapping his hands, drawing your attention back to him. “Our price list is here on the sheet for your reference. Just entice people to come with that pretty face, and Kook will ring them up.” Yoongi scoffs. You quickly pick up an ear of corn to chuck it at him, but Hobi takes it away from you just as fast. “Listen, I know you two have had your differences in the past, but we are actually adults now. Just be cordial, at least.” 

"Fine,” you say, feeling ashamed that you let Yoongi get to you. 

“Okay,” Yoongi agrees and shrugs nonchalantly. “I have no issues on my end.” 

“Great,” Hobi says happily with a clap of his hands. “Let's get this party started.”

[matan4il]

Hello hello, sending hugs as always!

I was hoping you maybe be able to give me some inspiration for a small series of food photos I'm assembling for Channukah! I'm doing an 8 part series celebrating the different groups within Judaism to 1. Be loudly and proudly Jewish at this current time, and 2. raise awareness for non-ashki Jews. In the UK it's super hard to find many non ashki peeps which makes it hard to chat to people about other classic Channukah foods, but I was wondering if you knew of any particularly good ones (that aren't latke or sufganiyot)? Would hugely appreciate any suggestions you have!!

Hi darling, sending you the biggest hugs right back! <3

Oooh, Hanukkah foods! I'm not gonna lie, some of my fave Jewish foods come from this holiday. With your permission, I'll give a small introduction, just for anyone reading, who might be unfamiliar with Hanukkah, and curious... and also talk about some of the lesser known Hanukkah food traditions among European Jews, too.

So during Hanukkah, we celebrate a miracle that happened with the oil at the Temple in Jerusalem. After the Jews defeated the occupying Greek forces that had desecrated our Temple, we wanted to light again the eternal flame of the Menorah (the Temple candelabra) with olive oil, but after the destruction caused by the Greek forces, there was only enough left for one day, and it would take 8 days to get more oil. The miracle is that somehow, that small amount of oil lasted for the whole 8 days, meaning the light didn't go out again. To remember this miracle, we eat food fried in oil! Being Jewish is so good for your health. XD

In shops and bakeries around Israel, there are already sufganiot being sold. They are YUMMY, and while some people call them "the Jewish donuts," I can say that after having eaten American donuts, I def think sufganiot are way yummier (in part 'coz they're not as "heavy" because the dough it's made of is fluffier? More... airy? Not sure how to say it, but I hope you get the idea). Also, you don't get robbed, because someone made a hole in the middle of the sufgania, taking out nearly half of it. The traditional type has strawberry jam injected inside, and sugar powder on top, but in Israel there are some crazy fancy kinds, and every year they seem to become more extravagant.

Traditional sufganiot (you can see a bit of the jam on top, but half the fun is biting and getting to the "treasure" of lots of jam at the center of the sufgania):

Fancy sufganiot:

Then there's the latkes, or as they're called in Hebrew, levivot. They're like savoury pancakes made out of potatoes, and obviously they're fried in oil.

In many Jewish communities, there was a custom of giving kids special pocket money for Hanukkah. In Israel, this "money" is given in the form of chocolate "coins." I freaking loved this as a kid! It was fun unwrapping the "coins," eating the chocolate, and then (assuming I was careful when peeling them off), make a collection of the different "coins," or just play with the wrap.

Greek Jews used to make a bread from potatoes and yogurt:

Georgian Jews made levivot out of corn flour (sometimes filled with cheese), or out of potatoes AND nuts, giving it the shape of a big omelette. Here's the corn flour version:

Czech Jews had a custom saying goose is the best meat, so for Hanukkah, they often ate goose related dishes. For example, they would make levivot from potatoes, eggs, sugar, lemon and goose fat.

French and Swiss Jews would make levivot out of apples.

The Jews of Iraq, Algeria and Buchara (which is in Uzbekistan) used to put the Hanukkah pocket money for the kids inside honey cakes. In Algeria and Buchara they also sometimes made levivot with meat added inside.

The Jews of Romania and Austria used to light potato Hanukkah candles! This was likely because they were so poor. Still, a pretty cool thing, when you can light your candle, and eat it (or at least a part of it), too.

In northern Africa, Jews used to make a type of cookie called Debla (sometimes nicknamed "dough roses"), which originated in Libya. They're usually eaten with a sweet syrup. It's more of a Purim dish (the equivalent of Hamantaschen), but was sometimes prepared for Hanukkah as well. Traditional Debla:

And a slightly "fancier" Israeli version:

Okay, maybe my fave Hanukkah dish! It's called sfinge (the 'ge' is pronounced like in "sponge"), and it's basically the Moroccan sufgania, which later became popular among Tunisia and Libya Jews, too. It can be round with a hole in the middle, it can be in the shape of a ball, while Libyan Jews make it flat. It's eaten with either honey or sugar powder, but again, in Israel fancier versions developed... I'm not a great cook, so IDK to explain why, but it's even fluffier than the sufgania, and that's why it's my personal fave.

Traditional sfinge with honey:

With sugar powder:

Israelis always having to make everything fancier:

They even made a savoury version of flat sfinge...

I hope this helps! Have a wonderful day, darling! xoxox

[froody]

Hello random person I follow, I just wanted to share in the squirrel meat trauma. I am from rural PA so it’s northern Appalachia. 1. One time my cousin ate raw squirrel meat as a kid and it was so nasty and she threw up so much she’s been a vegetarian ever since. She was five. Now she’s 34. 2. Cooked squirrel is…not great. I know you know this. I know this too. Intimately. 3. One time in high school a boy that sat by me in homeroom brought me a squirrel pelt for my birthday. He shot it that morning and just brought it to me in a big ziplock bag of salt to get the skin to dry out. He was a pretty normal guy. He’s an even more normal guy now. Sells insurance. Upper middle class. Bland as shit. What kind of hillbilly nonsense was that. 4. Now I live in a big city and am still the kind of nuts food hoarder that has a chest freezer in my apartment so I can have a shit ton of like, venison cabbage rolls and venison pierogi and frozen fresh corn and berries for pies and shit on hand because my hillbilly ass grandmothers drilled into me that you had to stock up for winter or your family might go hungry. I live alone. I’m never going hungry.

Omg. I think my grandpa made my cousin eat a squirrel heart once in line with tradition (or threatened to) but consuming raw mammal meat fills me with dread. High school home room boy was obviously trying to bring you dead animal parts to win your affection like a cat. We were a canning family, meat went in the freezer and fruit and veg got canned. And jerky. SOOO much venison jerky. I miss having a freezer full of venison but my grandpa has dementia and my uncle is in poor health so all of the hunters in my family no longer hunt. Also I’m terrified of chronic wasting disease, I know they say it isn’t transferable to humans but jfc prion diseases scare me.

People on that post are asking what squirrel tastes like and I’m like. The taste is not the major problem, the texture is. It tastes gamey and it’s stringy and dry. I’m sure it’s better in things like gumbos and other assorted stews but my grandmother only prepared it pan fried with white gravy and mash potatoes because my grandpa is a picky eater, and it was NASTYYYYYY. Walking in to find my grandma making biscuits and sausage gravy was like hitting the lottery, waking in to find my grandma making venison and gravy was okay, squirrel and gravy day was a travesty.

[mountkennedie]

Does the fellowship like candy corn?

Okay I know it is past halloween, but I still want to have fun with this.

Aragorn:

He strikes me as the type of person where he chooses fruit and nuts over candy ANY DAY

not a fan, but if you are, he won't say anything

if you offer him any, he would initially be like, "Enjoy your treat friend"

if you insist, then he will take like one, pop it in his mouth, and suffer

Legolas:

will eat anything

this is probably his first candy corn experience so he's excited

"what is that?"

if he saw you eat one he would look at you with wide eyes

"what variety of corn comes in that shade?"

MUST try some

he would chew and shallow and not say a word for a moment

"I like it!"

mind you, he likes everything

Boromir:

Similar to Aragorn but when first proposed, he would say yes

"you are most generous, friend"

it's so sweet that he winces

he tries to not make a face but fails

feels bad for having such strong disgust

eats another because of that

he is NOT a fan but will suck it up, so he doesn't insult you

Gimli:

Has had candy corn before

was a candy corn FIEND as a child

but ate way to much of it in his youth and now has a disdain for it

he would see you eating it and you would offer some and he would be like

"Ate too many in my early days, if I had one more, I'd turn into one!"

he may have ONE but that's it for the entire journey

Frodo:

Of course has had candy corn, it was invented by hobbits!!! (personal headcanon)

I hate to make it sad BUT

he likes candy corn pre-one ring, but now can't stomach it

on the happier side

if you offer some while walking with the others (near the beginning of the journey) he would accept!

you would have to sneakily place one in his hand or else pippin and merry WILL see and WILL ask

Sam:

"No thank you. That's not real food"

Sorry I had to

he is not a fan

never was

I don't think he likes sweets in general

sam is very savory>>sweet kind of person

he would much rather tear down some nuts with aragorn than have even a lick of candy corn

Merry:

the second worst

merry would run your pockets if he knew you had some

he would eat his weight and then complain about a stomach ache

sugar coma

has to be carried because he is mentally erased by the sweetness of the corn

Pippin:

I was so excited for this one

remember the book "don't let the chicken drive the bus?"

maybe too niche

however still relevant

now consider it as "don't give pippin candy corn"

bouncing off the walls

he managed to get a handful (small hobbit hands) and stayed up the entire night in a sugar rush

Boromir was supposed to watch for the night, except instead of watching for possible danger, he was making sure peregrin took stayed in one piece

will 100000000% wake up the next day not remembering anything and promptly asking if you have anything sweet on you

Gandalf:

you would offer and he would be like "how kind of you"

would pop an entire handful in his mouth at once and swallow with no consequence

no one knows how he did that

pippin and merry aspire to be like that

aragorn and boromir have no idea how he's like that

Bill the Pony:

eats your entire stash one night

does NOT apologize

leaves merry and pippin HEARTBROKEN

leaves sam proud

leaves aragorn and boromir relieved

leaves gimli there

leaves legolas disappointed

gandalf didn't care

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Getting lost with Eddie in a corn maze at Halloween Horror night in Hawkins.

Minors go away, 18+ enemies to lovers. Smut

🎃

The whole of the fields at Merrill Wright's pumpkin patch had been transformed into a maze and there was stalls, games and food and drink avaliable.

Delicious scents of apple, cinnamon and pumpkin fill the air and you've been excited for the horror night all week.

Hired actors and volunteers had dressed up as iconic Halloween villains, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees and many more are running around chasing people around the carnival.

Like a game of tag if you were caught then you were out of the game, you were put into mini groups of five to help each other. Everyone was excited and the air was full of shrieks and laughter.

It's chilly and pitch black, and you are the only person in your group left along with Eddie Munson.

Fuck. Of all the people you could be left with it had to be him? You and Eddie didn't get on one bit and regularly argued.

As far as he was concerned you were a prissy cheerleader and you thought he was a over dramatic, loud asshole.

It didn't help one bit that he was sexy as fuck and you fought the urge to kiss or kick him in the nuts, like on a daily basis and that pissed you off.

Thanks to him and his insistence to check out the corn maze the two of you were now lost.

"Thanks a lot Munson" you snap and he scowls at you giving you a look of loathing.

"How is it my fault? I told you to go right didn't I?" this continues for a full five minutes, you're freezing in your costume and growing more and more irate.

"Why of all people did I get stuck with you?" you hiss at him and he snorts.

"You think I want to be stuck with you princess? Not fucking likely" If he called you princess one more time...

"I told you I'm no princess. You just assume what I'm like and make judgements, I hate you" You snap your chest heaving and a weird crackling energy explodes between the two of you.

"The feeling is fucking mutual, princess"

The two of you stare at each other for a beat and then you're locked in a passionate kiss. It's searingly hot and Eddie hitches you up against hedge, in a secluded part of the maze.

All that can be heard is your soft moans and Eddie's grunts of pleasure. The unzipping of clothes and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck you feel good sweetheart" Eddie pants as he fucks you hard. It's almost animalisfic in a way and you're moaning his name, begging and pleading for him to go faster.

"Now you're begging huh? Can't stand me but look at you all cock drunk and needy" you whine as he moves slower, teasing you.

Grinding down on him aching for relief which causes him to chuckle.

"Don't hear backchat from your pretty little mouth now huh sweetheart?" he boasts.

You begin to kiss his neck and find his sweet spot as leave love bites on his throat and a loud groan escapes from his mouth.

"Shit" he almost cums there and then and you smirk triumphant as he quickens the pace and the euphoria hits as you both orgasm, Eddie spilling his seed inside you.

Soft whimpers leave your throat, you feel boneless and he's surprisingly tender as he pulls out of you and leaves soft kisses on your neck.

The both of you dress in silence stunned at what had just occurred. Your mind is racing, the sex was mindblowing and it was with Eddie. What the fuck?

And to top it off you were both still lost in this fucking corn maze.

🎃 🌽

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Our love is god (modern!Heathers JD type!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: High school is hell. Truly. However, the one person you think will finally make it better, only makes it so much more worse.

warnings: angst, making out, death, murder, faked suicide, sexual abuse, physical violence, gun violence, afab reader

word count: 6.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

King´s Landing high school. Your own personal hell as you liked to call it in your journal. You really thought joining forces with the devils that ran it would help you get through it, but all it did was make things harder. You left your real friends and unpopularity behind for a seat at the same table as the Baratheon sisters, only to help them bully the rest of the school and focus on your looks and parties more than anything else. You dreaded seeing them every day. Floris wasn´t as bad you had to admit, she was nice. A cheerleader, but in the end she still participated in her sisters doings. Cassandra was a more devout follower. The year book committee and the boob job that mommy paid for made her think she was more than she actually was, but even she couldn´t reach the tyranny of their sister Maris. She truly was a mythic bitch. Drowning in your thoughts, one makes its reoccurring return. College will be paradise if you´re not dead by graduation.

From the side you could feel an elbow get rammed into your ribs painfully.

“Ow. What´s your damage, Maris?” You spit out the words while rubbing the sore spot on your side.

“Stop whining. You are going to go to the big frat party with me this weekend. You should be thankful.” Just hearing her tone made you want to punch her in the boob or something. Gods, you couldn´t even think straight.

“Yay, great.” You can barely hide the sarcasm in your faked excitement.

However Maris doesn´t get the chance to say anything about it as right in that moment a commotion breaks out in the back of the cafeteria. With your old friends you would have been able to just ignore it, but with the Baratheons? No chance. The four of you turn around to see Cregan Stark and Qyle Martell harassing a student you think you have never seen before, which is highly unlikely as literally everyone here had been to kindergarten, elementary school and middle school together. Despite not recognizing him, you feel an immediate yet inexplainable attraction towards him. The whole ethereal beauty that he had going on was really working for him. So much so, that when the bickering stops and a gasp rolls through the cafeteria as the stranger pulls out a gun, you aren´t even that deterred. In fact you think it´s kinda funny how the two jocks pee their pants at being shot with blanks. They deserve some push back to their constant bullying.

But even that little moment can´t lift your mood long enough to get you over the party. When Maris picks you up in her dad´s way too expensive car you already feel like sending her away again. On the other hand you might as well end your own social life then. No.

“And don´t forget the corn nuts!” Maris yells after you as you walk towards the convenience store on your way to that stupid frat party.

“Plain or bbq?” You yell back.

“Bbq!” You get your answer in the middle of the door.

Rolling your eyes so she doesn´t see it you make your way through the store grabbing the snacks and looking around until you almost run into someone.

“Oh, sorry I didn´t look where I was going.” You take a step back feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you recognize the stranger from school.

“It´s okay… You know, I´m not the biggest fan of your friend either.” He says as he grabs some snacks himself.

“What?” His statement catches you off guard quite a bit.

“I watched you… Today during lunch and how you rolled your eyes at her.” He explains as if it is nothing.

“You´ve been watching me?” You ask surprised, but with a smile on your face. “Should I be flattered or scared?”

"A little bit of both maybe?" He leans against one of the shelves. Putting on a half smile himself. A very handsome one at that. For the first time you really study him. The way his silver hair flows past his shoulders. The intense look of his right eye and the scar above his left one. The sharpness of his cheekbones, nose and chin. Until your eyes stick to his lips. Those perfect, pink lips with the sharp cupids bow.

"I can do that..." You whisper more to yourself than the lean person in front of you.

That's when the penetrating sound of a car horn and Maris screaming your name pulls the two of you back to reality.

"Better run quick. Your friend is waiting." He teases as you make your way to the Cash register. Your name rolling of his tongue in the most promising manner. Promising what? That is what you wanted to find out.

“I should.” You sigh. “But before I go… Since you know my name, it´s kind of only fair to tell me yours, don´t you think?”

“Aemond. Aemond Targaryen.” He finally introduces himself and upon hearing his last name you remember him distantly. You had talked to his sister Helaena once or twice a few years ago.

“Well, it was nice meeting you Aemond Targaryen, but I have to go appease the will of a high school tyrant now…” You shoot him a wink and get back to the car as quickly as possible.

The party, much like you thought, is a total bust. The music is complete shit, the alcohol is cheap and Maris leaves you alone to do god knows what with some frat bro almost immediately. Leaving you alone to be harassed by his friend. It all together gives you a major headache and so you leave at the first chance. Walking home still is a better option than having to bear this any longer.

You arrive there late, but the fresh air helps the headache. To your further luck, your parents are already asleep so you can go to your room directly. Writing out all your frustrations in your journal.

While you do so there is a tap on the window. Jolting out of your seat, you see Aemond standing there.

“Greetings and salutations.” He says as you open up for him to come inside. An invitation he takes instantly. “So how was the party?”

“About as good as one would think…” You scoff, closing your journal as you turn towards him.

“Ah… I bet your presence was missed greatly.” He says, the words dripping with sarcasm and making you laugh. I was nice to really laugh for the first time in a while. The two of you talk some more and somehow end the night cuddled up naked under the blankets. Remnants of both of your juices sticking to your thighs as you talk about gods know what. You honestly can´t pay much attention. Yet even post nut clarity couldn´t give you the realization that he just found out where you lived and came in through your gods damn window. Probably because his kisses kept your mind far away enough from reality.

“Maris Baratheon is one bitch that deserves to die.” He sighs.

“Killing her won´t solve anything. I say we just grow up be adults and then die.” You reply in a quiet tone. Your faces so close to each other that there is barely even an inch between you. Perfect to pull him in once more. Locking your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

The two of you fall asleep soon after. A tangle of limbs and your head tucked under his chin, on his chest. However when you open your eyes again you are alone. The only sign of Aemonds company the previous night being your own nakedness and a few marks he had left on you that would be easily covered up.

The real shock comes when you get back to school on monday. Meeting up with the Baratheon sisters as every morning, you are surprised to see only Cassandra and Floris. Who look tired. Well, Floris looks tired and quite sad. Cas looks as unbothered as ever, if not a bit happy.

“Where did you leave Maris?” You ask coming to a stop in front of them.

“Didn´t you hear? She killed herself two days ago…” Floris reveals with a quiet voice. Your heart sets out for a beat at the news.

“Yeah, where have you been all weekend?” Cas adds.

“I- I don´t know… I´m sorry for what happened with your sister. You put your sunglasses back on and leave them to find Aemond.

“Hey.” You great him with a small peck.

“What is going on? You look like someone just died.” He remarks, pulling you close to him and placing another peck to your cheek.

“My best friend just killed herself.” You murmur.

“Don´t you mean your worst enemy?” He replies with a small grin.

“Same difference.” Still bewildered by the happenings of this morning, you shake your head and then go to class with Aemond.

Only to learn then that you would all get a half day off. A half day seemed to be fairly less for a student just committing suicide in your opinion, especially one as influential as Maris, but then again she also enjoyed more fame than during her life. So at least she couldn´t complain. You felt a bit bad for entertaining that thought. Then again with how many lifes she had ruined...

Going to school after that was even worse for weeks. Everyone was romanticizing Maris´ reign of terror, Cassandra silently took over what her sister had started, or at least tried to and you? Well, you only ever got away from it all when you spent time away from it with Aemond, who seemed surprisingly chill, if not smug about the bully being out of the way. The two of you get closer quick during that time. He is the most understanding boyfriend you could have ever wished for. Even his few quirks are cute. Yet he keeps his darker sides safely tucked away from you. At least for now, he vows himself. Who would have known it could get even worse.

When you enter the school building the next day, everyone is staring at you, talking to their friends in hushed whispers. At first you assume it was the usual whispers, but when Cas comes up to you, you quickly get taught better.

“You little bitch. I never knew you were that kind of person.” She says with a wide complacent grin firm on her face.

“What are you even talking about, Cas? What the hell is going on here? What is everyone talking about?” You hiss. Gripping Aemond´s hand slightly, who seemed just as confused as you were. Though he was more successful in concealing his feelings.

“Shouldn´t you know what you did? “ your supposed friend feigns innocence. It really makes you want to slap the holier than thou look off her face.

“Just. Tell. Me.” You make sure to put emphasis on every single word.

“Qyle and Cregan are going around telling everyone you blew them.” She holds her hand in front of her mouth to hide her giggle.

Without another word, you stomp past her. Running around the next corner, where Aemond stops you.

“Hey. Hey! Angel, where are you going?” He questions. Holding you by the shoulders.

“To those stupid… fucking…” You let out an undefinable sound of frustration. “They may get away with harassing the all the girls of this entire school, but not me.”

 “You have to take a breath and calm down.” He says in a low voice as to not attract any more attention.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” You seethe, but at least you stop marching through the mass of other students.

“Calm down.” He reiterates. “I already have a plan.”

Right in that moment however the bell rings signaling the start of first period. And it is pure horror. The whispers all around you echo in your head even when it is entirely silent. Teachers drone on and on about topics that you couldn´t get less of a shit about. Cassandra and Floris arent´t any help with any of it either of course. With how nice Floris tended to be it was easy to forget who they were sometimes. Time stretches endlessly until you reach home. Sitting down on your bed, you wait for the telltale sign of Aemond coming over. By now the knocking on the window doesn´t even startle you anymore. The opposite is the case. Whenever you hear it, your heart instinctively skips a beat. Just like it does now.  You open the window and watch Aemond hop inside. Greeting him with one, two, three little pecks to the lips you pull him to the bed with you by the lapels of his leather jacket. Barely separating from him as you do so, you grin against his lips at the way his large hands grab your hips to pull your body close to his.

“I missed you so much.” He hums against your mouth between kisses.

“We haven´t seen each other for two hours.” You giggle. Running a gentle hand over his chest as the fingernails of the other massage his neck.

“I know and it felt like an eternity.” Aemond all but growls against your neck. Biting it lightly, before sucking a mark into the supple flesh.

You let out a trembling whine at the tingling feeling his lips chase down your spine. The needy sound followed by an amused chuckle from him.

“So, your still out for revenge?” He growls against your neck.

“Yes.” You answer just a bit more breathless than before.

“Good.” Aemond pulls away from you and throws two guns beside you on the bed. Startled by them, you jump back. Looking at the blond, who returns it with a smug expression.

“Aem, I want to pay them back not murder them!” You shriek, settling down a good bit away from the weapons. He on the other hand is eerily calm.

“Do you take german?” He asks as he sits down and takes your hands.

“French.” You answer still on edge.

“These are `Ich lüge´ bullets. My grandpa stole a shitload of them in WW2, they´re like tranquilizers. Only they break the surface of the skin enough to cause a little blood.” Aemond explains as he dumps a handful of bullets between the guns.

“So… It looks like the person has been shot, but really they are just unconscious and bleeding?” You ask just to be sure. The sight of the weapons made you feel all kinds of bad.

He nods. “We shoot Cregan and Kyle, it looks like they shot each other and by the time they regain consciousness, they´ll be the laughing stock of the whole school.”

“And what is that for?” You point to the folded paper that lies between the bullets.

“That is the cherry on top. A fake suicide note. Painting the whole thing as them killing themselves, because they knew they would never be accepted for being a gay couple.” Aemond snickers and you have to admit that the plan in all it´s simplicity sounds pretty good.

Taking your phone you send a text to Cregan. Luring him and Qyle into the woods behind the school under the guise of wanting to have a threesome with the two of them. Knowing full well it would get them where you wanted. Throwing your phone to the bed with a nervous giggle, you feel Aemond crawl on top of you. The weight of his taller frame pushing you into the mattress as his lips find yours again.

When you enter the woods and Aemond kisses you one last time, before you hide your gun and he goes to hide in the trees, your whole body trembles with uncertainty.

“Hey, Dollface.” Cregan greets you.

The two guys come to a stand about five feet away from you. “So, how are we gonna start this?” Qyle adds to his friend. Wasting no time as always.

“I thought you two could start by undressing for me.” You flutter your lashes at them, voice like honey in their ears.

“Okay.” The two of them say in unison. Nodding before they all but tearing the clothes of their body, stripping down to their boxers. The three of you count to three and right as they want to rip off the last piece of fabric down too your plan sets in action. Aemond jumps out from behind a nearby tree, the pair of you whip out the guns and aim for the half naked and afraid boys. Aemond hits Qyle right in the chest and he drops to the ground right where he stood. You are less lucky, missing Cregan by only an inch. He turns to see his friend lie on the ground, in a growing puddle of his own blood and makes a run for it. Your heart starts pounding in your chest even harder than before, if that even is possible. Threatening to break out of your ribcage as you watch Aemond´s face contorts into a grimace of anger.

“Shit! You stay here, I´m getting him.” He barks, chasing after a screaming Cregan.

It´s silent where you remain alone. Making you wonder what is going on. In the same breath your eyes fall down to Qyle´s body. The blood still pools underneath his body, prompting your thoughts run off the rails with crazy theories.

It isn´t until Aemond chases Cregan back to you, where he finally shoots him as well. The burly body flopping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With horror you see your worst theory come true. They are both dead. Aemond killed them. And you helped him. A scream leaves your lips and you throw the weapon in your hand away on instinct. Clasping your hands over your mouth as the shock seeps in.

“No. No, no, no, no.” You mumble more to yourself than anyone else really. You are frozen to the spot you are standing in and if it were up to you, you would fall to your knees then and there. But Aemond takes your hand and pulls you away from the crime scene.

You don´t come to until you are in his car, in front of your house. You feel empty, detached from reality. Your body functions on autopilot. Putting a cigarette into your mouth to even somehow try to cope with the stress of what you had just become witness to. However when you lift up the lighter, the flame licks at the skin of your palm instead. You let out an agonizing scream and tears immediately shoot into your eyes at the white, hot pain.

The funeral a week later is a rough one. Even rougher than Maris´. The way the Septon plays up the gay martyr part is unbelievable. Aemond´s presence by your side doesn´t give you any comfort any more either. You can barely look at him anymore. Over the course of the past days your mind had started to come back from what lead you there, but it also distanced itself from him. Only able to see that side of him that he had hidden so well. All you want to do is hide under your blanket for the rest of your life, instead you have to sit in that gods forsaken sept, feeling sorry for Floris and Sarah, Cregan´s half-sister and your ex best friend, who seem to be taking this the hardest. You knew that Floris and Cregan, despite him being a total goon, had been kind of on and off for a while. The two of them didn´t deserve this. Fuck, the bad conscience was eating away at you, making you nauseaus. Of course, Aemond is entirely calm. Not letting a single soul see behind the carefully strung up curtain. Even though you imagine to see the same small smug smirk in his face again that he had expressed while explaining his plan to you all those days back.

Repressing the urge to run out of the sept, you pick at the skin around your fingernails until they bleed.

Once the service is over, you get onto Aemond´s motorcycle and let him drive you home. No matter how hard it is to keep holding on to him and not dissociate the whole ride. Your mind makes up then and there, that this has to end. You have to end this.

That night when he comes over, you sit him down.

“We um… We need to talk.” You mumble. Still not meeting his eye. He had already noticed your inability to do so since that day, but until now he thought you would catch yourself again after an initial shock. A mistake he noted mentally to never do again.

“What do you want to talk about?” He feigns ignorance, though he full well has a perfect idea of what you want to talk about.

“I… We… I can´t do this anymore, Aemond.” You stammer out, your leg trembling under his hand that rests on your thigh.

“Cannot do what anymore, Angel?” His one seeing eye rests on you as intensely as ever.

“This. Us. I thought I could cope with what we have done, but I can´t. I can´t look at you like before anymore. The sight of their… bodies… still haunts me in my dreams.” You try to find the right words to express your feelings and still it feels like the severity of them doesn´t come out right.

“You can´t be serious about that.” He faltered. Despite having a feeling about what you were gonna say, he still feels floored by it. His heart hurting at your words.

“I am. I never wanted this. “ Your voice hardens as you get more confident about your decision.

“You wanted this too. You said you wanted revenge.” Aemond insists.

“Yes, I wanted revenge. I did not ask for this. Two people are dead!” You try to get through to him. To no avail.

“You didn´t seem to mind much when Maris died.” He blurts out. It´s entirely in the heat of the moment. And he regrets revealing it to you like that, but it is out nonetheless.

“What?” You shriek in response. “I thought Maris killed herse…”

The thought of the fakes suicide note for Cregan and Qyle enters your mind and you hide your face in your hands, fighting back the tears that sting in your eyes.

“Please just leave…” Your voice comes muffled from behind your hands. Opting to leave your face buried in them as you speak the defeated words.

“Angel, I am not just going to leave you. We can talk about this.” He takes your wrists in his hands and pulls them down to your lap.

“What is there to talk about? You killed three people!” You pulled your arms away from him, but his grip was too strong.

“Yes, but I did it for you.” He argues.

“How was any of that for me?” Your voice drips with disbelieve.

Aemond comes closer to you until he whispers against your lips. “They hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you.”

Then he presses his lips to yours roughly. His tongue pushes into your mouth forcefully, stunning you into an overpowering inability to act, as he pushes you against the headboard. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, making you cry out in search for help or to get him to stop. Just something, anything to make him stop. It takes several more moments for your brain to return to the situation, but once it does you start struggling with all your might. Biting his lip and kicking him away from you, finally sets you free from his assault.

“I want you to go. Now.” You say quietly but with as much certainty as you can put into your voice. He turns around and leaves. Surprisingly without another word. Yet your body stays on edge until long after he is gone.

Your arms wrapped tightly around your middle, you shiver from your nerves processing everything that had been revealed and happened. Unable to really cope with it yet. Despite not having really liked them your friends where dead and only the gods knew what Aemond would do next.

That night you get haunted by him in your dreams.

You find yourself in the Baratheon´s dark kitchen. Aemond in front of you, looking for a knife. For some reason you know Cassandra is going to be his next victim. Yet, no matter how hard you try to speak and keep him from going through with his fucked up plan, you can´t. Not a single sound comes from your lungs. With panic you watch as he grabs a dirty knife from the dishwasher and goes into Cas´ room. In the complete dark you can´t see exactly what he does, you can only see the world go dark around you seconds later, feeling like you are falling into a bottomless pit, you wake up with a gasp. Sweat soaking your pillow and your chest heaving with short heavy bursts of breath while your heart threatens to break out if it. You know you have to stop him, before what the dream is foreboding becomes reality. He is incalculable, dangerous and whatever he does end up doing next, can´t happen under any circumstances. You spend the whole day trying to make out a plan, not paying attention to any of your teachers or Floris and Cassandra. Not a single idea your brain comes up with is good enough to work. Luckily it also makes you ignore the weird looks your friends are giving you over your unresponsiveness.

Saying goodbye to them when they drop you of in the afternoon, you plan to head to your room immediately. A plan that is thwarted by your parents, who await you in the living room, worried expressions on both of their faces.

“Darling! We need to talk to you for a moment.” Your mother speaks up first. Seemingly relieved to see you alive and well.

“Sure, what´s going on?” Your mind is still half busy with Aemond when you put down your bag in front of you.

“Aemond just dropped by. Saying all these things about how we should look out for you, that he was worried for you…” Your mom´s voice is shaky as she recalls on the memories of what had happened so shortly before you arrived.

“Did he say something else?” You say passively. Inside you are boiling already. Who does he think he is?

“He said you confessed some rather alarming urges to him. That you shouldn´t be left alone with sharp objects or… or that kind of stuff.” Your father holds your mother a little tighter to calm her down again. You truly feel sorry for them. How could they know that what they have been told was as wrong as it possibly could have been.

“I´m sorry… But I´m not… That´s not true. You know I´d talk to you if there was anything going on.” You assure them.

You try to spend more time with them, but once your parents start to believe you, you make your way back to your room. Your mind is finally made up on what to do. If talking to him wouldn´t help to get him to stop killing, maybe you could shock him into it. Hopefully. He did used say, that the extreme always makes an impression. Taking your bedsheets you tie them around your body in a way that allows you to make it look like you had hung yourself. For once it would come in handy that he had never stopped texting you. Hurrying to get done before you hear that accursed knock. Tipping over the chair you use in your preparations mere seconds before he lets himself in. No matter how much you want to move or even at least open your eyes, you force yourself to stay calm. No matter how unfamiliar the air under your forcefully relaxed feet feels and your lungs hurt from the flat breaths you can allow yourself at most to take. Blissfully unaware to the gun hidden in the back of his pants, with which he planned gods know what. While he doesn´t move or breath or speak for a short moment. Frozen in a shock not deep enough to hold him for long.

It seems you have underestimated his crazy. Mentally you curse yourself out aggressively so that you almost miss him beginning to speak to you.

I can´t believe you did it.” He says in a breathy tone and you can hear his hands slap against his thighs as if he had raised them in defeat beforehand. “I loved you. Sure I was coming in here ready to kill you, but… I at least would´ve wanted to tell you about this petition the whole school signed first. Of course they don´t know what they really signed up for, but that won´t be any of their concern anymore soon. Oh Angel, it´s a shame you don´t get to see this play out anymore. I have the perfect plan. During pep rally on Friday the whole school is gonna come down and everyone in there with it. Listen to this. We, the students of King´s Landing high, will die. Our bodies will be the ultimate protest against you. A society that churns out slaves and blanks. Fuck you all.”

He was even further gone than you would´ve thought or hoped. “It´s not very subtle, but a school blowing up, that´s big. The kind of big that infects a generation. The only place Baratheons and Snows can get along is in heaven. We could´ve united them together, you and I… you left me no choice. So I will do it alone if I must.”

By now he is breathless from the passion that is no doubt not only in his voice but also his heart. The clicking of a lighter registers over the ringing of sheer panic in your ears, followed by the faint footsteps and mumbling of your mother. Aemond is quick to sneak back out the window and you are just about to open your eyes back up and take a deep breath, when the door opens behind you and your poor mothers scream can be heard throughout the entire house.

Hurrying, you untie the bedsheets with shaky hands, hurting your knees in the process of falling to the ground, but you don´t care. All you care about is getting to your mom. Hugging her weak, sobbing form to your body as tightly as you can. Soothing her as best as possible, but the damage has been done you guess and you really can´t blame her. If you would have been in her place you wouldn´t have reacted or felt any other way.

“It´s okay, mom. I´m okay, I´m still here. It wasn´t real.” It´s safe to say, that after all of that you don´t sleep well. Or at all really. How could you after Aemond has told you what would happen next. You want to stop him, feel like you have to stop him, even more so now that your plan has failed so miserably. If anything you´re under the impression of having worsened the state his soul is in.

For two whole days you have to watch school go by without anything out of the ordinary happening. Which just makes the bad feelings in your gut swirl even more intensely. Yet, at the same time, there is a strange calm inside your mind. There certainly, realistically, is very little you can do to keep Aemond from doing what he wants to do. But at least if, or rather when, you go down on Friday, you don´t go down by being by Aemond´s side, watching the smoke pour out the doors. Making s´mores over the burning remains of your dead school mates. This was sick. A whole parade of red flags. A perverted power fantasy, that you can´t believe you didn´t notice before. In those days you have more people than you are willing to count come after you, questioning how you are still alive. How did the stupid rumors always spread the fastest and furthest?

The poor guidance counselor is who almost suffers from you losing your nerves over it, on the day of. You are quick to apologize as well though.

“I am so sorry, I´d be glad to talk about this another day, now I really have something more important to do.” You let the man behind, that still opens and closes his mouth like a fish on land.

Marching through the masses of students on their way to the gym. Scared shitless, but still determined to put an end to this if you can. It was high time you pulled your shit together anyway. Finding Aemond in the boiler room, he is already busy setting up multiple explosives.

“Hey!” You pull his attention away from the dynamite.

“Greetings and salutations. Come to change your mind?” He inquired.

“No. Never! Gods, how delusional are you to think that anyone would join you in this madness! You are no better than your mother.” You take another step closer to him. The venom in your tone gets him to stay silent for once. However he still doesn´t stop fiddling with the bombs.

“Put that down, slowly and then put your hands behind your head.” You put your hand in the pocket of your cardigan to grab your fathers hunting knife in case you´d need it. Pulling it out you earn a genuinely amused chuckle, then everything goes too fast for you to react properly. Aemond kicks the weapon out of your hand, letting it slide out of your reach, and knocks you out with a few , for him very simple, movements. Sinking to the ground you barely stay conscious long enough to see him walk further into the basement of the building. Fuck. The already quiet sounds of the pep rally become even more quiet over the dull thudding in your head and then darkness claims you.

You don´t know how long you have been out once your eyes open again. Thankful for the low light of the rooms you are in, you tumble towards the direction you saw Aemond leave in. Holding on tightly to the wall or anything you can find to keep the dizziness from knocking you off your feet again. Too busy to hear your scuffling steps, you can grab the gun he had brought and laid down beside himself.

“I said put it down… and hands behind your head…” The sentence is broken up by your heavy breathing.

One of his hands shoots to the side to check for the missing gun. Raising them over his head almost immediately and turning around to you slowly.

“Angel, come on. You know you can´t shoot me so why don´t you just put down the gun and join me? I´m giving you one last chance.” His tone is still smug, but you can hear a hint of fear shine through the overconfidence.

Scoffing, you shake your head at his inability to even now be real with his feelings. “Just turn off the bombs.”

Behind his eye you can see his brain mulling over every possible outcome to this situation. Surprising you, by complying to with you have just said. Putting his hands behind his head, the feeling of the imminent danger of the situation subsides from your system and you finally hear the voices from upstairs again. Having had enough of talking you wave for him to go outside with the gun, which you hold safely in both hands. Due to everyone being still in the gym and none the wiser as to what was going on not too far away from them. In front of you Aemond pushes the big front doors open for both of you to step outside.

Standing still, he turns to you again. Eye half closed and so close to you that if either of you were to move, your lips would most definitely touch.

“You know what you need to do now.” He murmurs. The way his breath fans over your face so warm and for a moment you feel set back to the beginning of your relationship. When everything was still okay or at least as okay as it could be.

“I don´t want to have to do it.” You whisper back.

“There is no other way to end this anymore now. I am far too damaged, but you are not beyond repair. Please… Stand back now. You know it had to end this way. No matter how much you wished it didn´t.” Aemond takes a step back himself and stretches his arms out to the side.

You take a deep breath and as you take a step away from him remind yourself of everything he had done and wanted to do. Looking up at him you ask him in a voice void of emotion.

“Any last words?”

“I worship you. So much. I´ll trade my life for yours.”

With a heart heavier than it should be, you point the gun back at the man who you had thought was the only one to ever truly understand you. Then, before your brain can have the chance to think twice about it your actions, you pull the trigger.

The shot rings in your ears long after it is over. The sight of Aemond falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes, filling you with a great void of nothingness. Still you stay there for a few more minutes. Lighting yourself a cigarette and waiting for that atrocious ringing to stop. A part of you still hopes to wake up and have all of this be a nightmare, but you never wake up and the cigarette is entirely done. So you throw the damned thing away, drop the gun on Aemond´s lifeless body and get back inside where everyone is flooding the hallways.

Ignoring Cassandra´s comments and protest, you march past her, taking Floris by the hand and walk over to Sarah who is sitting alone on the stairs.

“Ladies, there is a new sheriff in town. And the way I see it, all three of us are still free tonight. So, I propose we buy snacks and watch movies at my place all night.” You say with a conciliatory smile.

The two girls look happy about the suggestion. About as happy as they can look under the given circumstances and together the three of you decide to cut the school day a bit shorter and go now.

[fartlovingblkguy69]

So I always wanted to see more to this story but I never did so I guess I’ll just do it myself.

Eddie sat his hairy ass back on Johnny’s face and ripped another huge fart. “Come on boy. Eat my ass. It’s all sweaty and itchy. Let me feel that tongue soothe my nasty hole” Eddie smothered the slave’s face until he couldn’t breathe, then yelled “Either you eat my ass or you die under it. Your choice.” Johnny started to lick and suck on Eddie’s hairy hole while Eddie started wiggling and pushing back against his tongue, farting wetly while he started to stroke his 7 inch dick. “Oh yeah, that’s a good boy. Keep going. Mmm. Fuck!” Prrrrrrttttttt Fssssssssshhhhhh Eddie smothered poor Johnny’s head, farting and getting ate deeply, pushing his hole into the slave’s mouth until he came. When he came though, he ended up pushing out the tip of thick turd. “Oh damn! Disturbs to do that.” He started to get up, unsure of what rules Raul might have and then thought better of it. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Open up your mouth slave boy” he pushed until the boy’s mouth was full, then cut off the huge turd, dropping the first bit in Johnny’s mouth. “Chew and swallow, then I’ll let you breathe” he said as he sat and squashed Johnny’s face once again. Johnny was forced to chew up the nasty shit. It was disgusting and he could taste bits of corn and nuts. He finished swallowing and Eddie let out a big fart around the dump that was still in his hairy ass right as Raul came back. “I see you’re enjoying my fart slave. How’s he doing? He sucking up all your gas for you?” Raul talked to his friend while sitting his naked hairy ass on Johnny’s stomach and ripped a giant fart. FPRPprfprfprpfrFPRFPRFRFPRPprfprfprpfrFPRFPRFRPPFRFPRFPRPRPFRPRPFRPFRPFRPFRPFRPRFPFRPPPFRFPRFPRPRPFRPRPFRPFRPFRPFRPFRPRFPFRP “He’s doing all right. I wish I could push more but I really gotta take a big shit to be honest” Eddie said, farting one more time before getting up. “Oh, well it looks like you already let a bit out” looking at the streaks around Johnny’s mouth. “Sorry about that man. I was just pushing and it just kind to came out” Raul smirked down at Johnny, saying “Oh it’s fine, just kept that to a minimum. I’m trying to train him to take everything out of my fat, hairy ass anyway and it’d be awesome to watch him choke on one of your big shits. I just want to be the first to feed him” Eddie made his way to the bathroom and started to fill the toilet with his giant dump with the door open. “That being said, don’t bother to wipe. You can just use his tongue” Raul yelled to Eddie over the loud farts and grunting coming from the hairy man.

[dullgecko]

I realise I’ve been sending you a bunch of fig centric ones so have another that includes all the bad kids

Riz will eat anything and I mean anything like he’s eaten vegetables that were like 70% mould before and didn’t notice anything wrong. At worst he ate a rocks in a bet with Fabian and didn’t even have any adverse effects.

Gorgug can eat most things meat based as long as there not to out of date but when he ate raw chicken in front of the bad kids for the first time it gave all the bad kids a scare apart from Riz who thought it was completely normal.

Pre archdevil fig could eat more than the normal human but not by a huge amount but loved spicy things and you could not find a spice on the mortal plane that she could not tolerate.

Post archdevil is a different story all together now all mortal spices don’t even register as spicy and she has to start getting them from hell. Fig is altogether a good cook due to Sandra Lynn teaching her. So the first time she cooks with this new spices she literally nearly kills riz who’s nose is very sensitive to spices. she has since been banned from cooking spicy foods for other people as the stronger “hell spices” could knock out a normal human

Adaine and Fabian have mostly normal palettes but Fabian swears he can eat more spicy foods than fig and has had to have Kristen heal him on more than one occasion.

Kristen needs to be very careful when cooking because if she adds to much or corn a spiteful Helio will animate it. Though Helio also has issues if she puts not corn in her foods.

Riz and his mom both have mythril stomachs, and given how food-insecure they've been since his dad died he /hates/ wasting food. Goblins dont need to or even want to eat full meals every day but when they do they try to pack away as MUCH as possible. When he got really hungry as a kid he'd even dumpster dive outside their appartment because he didnt want to worry his mom by asking for more food and basically any food scraps he found in there were still good by goblin standards. Its also how he developed his crippling coffee habit, if he gets really hungry he's able to supress his appetite somewhat with it.

He can eat basically anything as long as its not poisonous, and has the jaw strength and tooth sharpness to grind down rocks into powder. Stale bread, bones, shells and even straight up wood don't stand a chance. He does have to be a little more careful about what plants he eats now though because he kept consuming things that he was allergic to and made his allergy reactions worse.

He's not eating random half-rotten or mouldy food as often now though because while at school he gets MOST of his meals from the caffeteria rather than at home because its free. He's less likely to injest something he shouldnt accidentally but just in case he does his whole party is primed and ready to dose him with his allergy meds if he starts developing hives.

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Gorgug and Riz sometimes have hangouts at the Thistlespring tree where they spend the whole time wilding out a little and ripping into raw meat with their bare hands and teeth (meat provided by Wilma and Digby after Lydia had a word with them about Gorgugs eating habits). Its fun and it satisfies a primal part of their brains to just go nuts on a fresh chunk of animal flesh. When with the other kids they'll, begrudgingly, eat their chicken and fish properly cooked though just because it makes some of them gag.

The other bad kids have caught both of them, on more than one occasion, licking blood off their hands after a particularly brutal fight. Gorgug slightly less often than Riz because he's using an ax, but the goblin if disarmed or unable to swing his sword will resort to biting and clawing. Everyone but Gorgug was initialy grossed out (What the FUCK the ball spit it out you dont know where they've been) but they got used to it eventually. They've started to develop a ranking system, based on taste, of the various creatures Riz has chomped on.

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Fig and Riz are spicy-food buddies, but ONLY if the spicyness itself is from chillis. Riz cant feel the heat from capsasium but he enjoys the taste, whereas Fig loves it for how hot it is so they'll often split some questionably edible mega-hot curries when they order takeaway. Fabian tried a bite once and was coughing and crying for hours afterwards (the second bite he took on a dare required healing afterwards).

Once she starts integrating more exotic spices into her meals is where the problem starts. Riz can finally TASTE the spicyness and he's of the opinion that she's insane if thats what she feels when she eats chilli. Fig accidentally tear-gassed him once by using a spice that, once she did some research, they worked out was a straight up goblin repellant. He walked into the kitchen as she took the lid off a pan full of chilli and immediatly had a coughing fit so bad they were worried they'd have to call an ambulance (he was fine after a while, he just had to sit outside on the lawn in the fresh air until his sinus stopped stinging and his eyes stopped watering... he may have also gotten Adaine to dump a full bottle of milk on his face).

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Its a delicate balancing act for Kristen trying to make things without what she's cooking become sentient and hostile. Luckily it seems to only be isolated to things that get heated up, so she's safe making sandwiches and salads, but anything that requires the use of the oven or pans needs a quick dusting of cornflower to appease Helio or there are consequences.