#theme park expansion

[toystorymaniac22]

HELL YEAH THIS IS THE BEST ADDITION TO MY MORNING @thatgaydisneyfan

[dw-flagler]

thinking about Worm World, the worm themed theme park in southern maine.

Worm World's main attraction is The Legend which is a coaster with no speed governor which frequently goes up to 35% faster than design tolerances allow.

It also has another rollercoaster called Alexandria which is the euthanasia coaster but there's 53 beehives next to the track. (Also two mud dauber nests but they aren't supposed to be there and management can't be assed to hire an exterminator). Guests at the park can buy Warlord Honey which is harvested from the beehives at the park and is actually like really good.

Guests at the park can do meet n' greets with beloved Wormies, like Bitch, who always brings dogs (any guests that touch the dogs without permission are beaten and bodily thrown from the park).

Any park guests who are injured or feeling unwell can go to Bonesaw's clinic, which is just, like, a completely normal first aid station, but. why did they call it that? I mean, they have to know that's a bad choice, right? Why does the first aid station have to be themed? it could just be a normal first aid station and nobody would care.

It has a waterpark section that's all themed around Leviathan, with a wave pool, one of those big bucket things (which fills up and is emptied 10x faster than most other ones in the country), and many more attractions. Sometimes has prop dead bodies at the attractions too.

There's a huge walled section on the other side that says SIMURGH LAND, COMING SOON but it's said that since 2002 and nobody's been allowed in and the security team at Worm World is like, weirdly adamant about not letting anyone in, to the point where they even guard the thing during the off-season, and it's really strange. People have tried to use drones to take pictures but the security team always shuts them down and I heard my cousin's friend's wife's sister had a drone and the security team shot it down with a shotgun in the middle of the operating day.

[bumpscosity]

too scared to go off anon but we are mutuals and i love seeing your posts about the disney rides and such. its like peeking in a window to something i know nothing about but enjoy seeing on my dash regardless

HAI MYSTERY MUTUAL!! glad ya like it! disney parks are a hyperfixation so it's always fun to post about for me :)

[anakinh]

i should be allowed to hunt moogles for sport

[vintagelasvegas]

Holiday Inn / Slot Joynt / Viscount / Boardwalk Hotel & Casino

The Strip's first Holiday Inn (1966) developed into the Boardwalk Hotel & Casino. 3740-3750 Las Vegas Blvd S.

Holiday Inn ('66-'85)

’65-66: Holiday Inn was built on previously undeveloped land, opened Feb. ’66 with a 6-floor tower later known as the “Steeplechase” tower. Homer Rissman, architect. Local 226 Culinary and Local 165 Bartenders picket the business from Mar. through Fall '66.

’68: 4-story addition later known as the “Luna Park” wing opens behind Steeoplechase wing.

’72: Norbert Jansen opens Holiday Gifts at the hotel. Whether Jansen was involved with Holiday Inn prior is unknown. Jansen runs the business here until his death in ’97.

’77: Holiday Gifts begins doing business as Slot Joynt Casino. The casino operates as Slot Joynt in front of the hotel in a new building until rebranding as Boardwalk in '89.

Viscount Hotel ('85-'89)

’85: Viscount and Holiday Gifts (Jansen) acquire the hotel and rebranded Viscount Hotel (RJ 6/16/85). Hotel and casino, separate until now, establish physical connection.

Boardwalk Hotel & Casino ('89-'06)

’89: hotel and casino rebranded as Boardwalk Hotel & Casino in Feb. Jansen proposes the addition of a 21-story working slot machine. This idea was rejected by the Clark County Commission. Revised plans by architect Weldon Simpson are approved, but never built.

’94: Boardwalk Casino Inc goes public, begins partnership with Holiday Inn, renamed Holiday Inn Boardwalk.

’95: Dreamland tower addition.

’96: Coney Island-themed expansion.

’98: Wynn/Mirage purchase.

’00: MGM-Mirage merge.

’03: Holiday Inn affiliation ends, renamed Boardwalk Hotel & Casino.

’06: closed 1/06; tower demolished 5/06, replaced with City Center’s Mandarin Oriental.

Sources include Boardwalk timeline published by MGM-Mirage. Boardwalk Hotel and Casino Records (MS-00093), UNLV Special Collections & Archives.

[findher-ogg]

I think Piper Wright Fallout 4 is one of those characters who's good in theory but not in practice. I was thinking about her as a character in relation to her setting and I genuinely think her archetype would be better suited to the NCR than it is to the Commonwealth.

Which I think comes down to how Bethesda handles their games, environment and attitude wise, as opposed to Black Isle and Obsidian. The West coast has basically recovered. New Vegas is a tourist attraction. The NCR are on a rapid tirade of imperialist expansion that's only achievable because they, as a nation, have recovered from the war and grown from it. If you compare Shady Sands in Fallout 1 to Diamond City in Fallout 4, its kind of funny. Shady Sands started out with decent houses made from dirt, with solid foundation and some of them having actual windows. The average settlement in Bethesda Fallout (like Diamond City or Megaton), meanwhile, are just shanty towns made from tin.

In the Commonwealth's case this is made even more insane by the fact that Fenway Park (where Diamond City is located) is surrounded by mostly intact houses that, with a bit of fixer-uppering, could be lived in relatively normally compared to the tin shacks of Diamond City. I think Megaton gets more of a pass because the Capital Wasteland got nuked to shit, but you get me.

Returning to Piper for a second, let's take a look at her character: she's a spunky, somewhat annoying character who's very invested in the freedom of the press and so forth. She's got a working printing press and everything, which is super impressive considering how run-down the rest of Diamond City is aside from the Valentine Detective Agency signs (seriously, where did they find the materials for those). She runs Publick Occurences solo with her sister, and it's all well and good. Ignoring the witch hunts she sends people on about synths.

And I get it. I think this specific gripe with Piper as a character comes from having played this game for the first time in 2024. The synths don't really hold up as an allegory for anything, and the entire story surrounding them is very "trying to be progressive in 2014". Which is fine, I think it is just a symptom of the era the game came out in, but still.

Piper's character, as a spunky yet annoying journalist who believes the people deserve to know what's going on, would be far better suited in a more developed location on the West coast -- specifically, Freeside or somewhere within the NCR.

I think Piper would suit the Followers of the Apocalypse, for example, serving as an informant to keep them in the know about what's going on between the Strip, the NCR and the regular Freesiders. Plus, having a funny, anarchist-themed newspaper you can receive in-game where she touts her hatred for the Securitron police force is a funny mental image. Equally, I think she'd suit living in Shady Sands -- right at the heart of the NCR's seediest political manouvres as the decisions are made. Imagine her as a journalist who frequently pushes back against the Mojave expansion, for example, and how the NCR is putting too many resources into a lost cause instead of more important things like healthcare or housing. That way, you could still keep her extreme hatred for the upper class in The Stands while making it make more sense within the setting.

Leading on from this, this made me realise how Bethesda also just aren't very deliberate with how they utilise history in their games. Which makes sense, to a certain extent, given how destroyed absolutely everything on the East coast is. But still. It's a little stupid.

The core conflict of New Vegas -- the Legion vs the NCR -- is actually a really deep-cut history reference at its core. The NCR is the Bear, the Legion is the Bull. In mid-19th century California, people watched bears and bulls fight for fun.

There are other, better examples, I'm sure. But I'm British and this is my personal favourite example, so this is what I'm using. History plays such an important part of New Vegas' themes and messaging -- it's a story about how, when, and why humanity needs to move on from the past and look towards the future.

Bethesda Fallout, by comparison, will frequently and shallowly tout "nukes bad" while letting Liberty Prime lob them at Super Mutants, or encouraging players to nuke each other's houses in Fallout 76.

Piper exists partially as a nod to the Boston Herald, and how it's one of the longest-running/most influential newspapers in America. A lot of publishing has its roots within Boston, and I think it's an interesting reference to take.

And I think this is a part of Fallout that Bethesda does get -- a lot of what people do in the post-war world is inspired by what came before. Caesar's Legion and its ideologies come from Edward Sallow not understanding basic Roman history properly and using it to fuel his agenda because it looks cool. The Minutemen are exactly that. The New California Republic are the new US government, right down to the borderline facist intentions and ideologies. I could go on.

And this comes from Fallout being a series about the cyclical nature of violence. "War never changes, but men do through the roads they walk" is the story here. War cannot change if men do not change, because war exists in an endless cycle of violence that can only be broken if man chooses to break it. And they've failed at it so far, right?

And this is where I go back to Piper. Her nod to history isn't as intentional as anything in New Vegas, and I feel like she would have been better served as a character if she was in New Vegas instead. Because her entire character would make more sense if she was living in the more developed and rebuilt towns of the West coast as opposed to a dilapidated shanty town on the East.

I have more thoughts about this but tl;dr Bethesda should really put more effort into making sure their history references and homages make sense to the setting contextually, in the same way that New Vegas does. That game was developed in 18 months and still has far more care put into its historical references than Fallout 4 does. And I love Fallout 4.

[lyratea]

Winter Legacy Challenge

You’ve always hated the heat, as a kid you dreamed of snowy mountains and chilly air. But now, as a young adult, you're finally leaving your warm hometown behind to start fresh in the cold, serene peaks of Mt. Komorebi. With nothing but the winter landscape ahead, and ready to build a new life — a legacy — in the heart of the snow. Welcome to the Winter Legacy Challenge! Expansion packs you'll need: -- Snowy Escape. If you don't have snowy escape, but have seasons, this works fine too. It's okay to play through spring considering the weather conditions BUT you'll have to remember to enable testingcheats and change it back to winter once it becomes summer with seasons.set_season 2 -- Seasons Recommend packs, but BG alternatives provided: -- Outdoor Retreat -- Life and Death -- Spa Day Not needed, but nice for gameplay: -- Island Living -- Eco Lifestyle

Rules: -- You may use freerealestate for your first house, but after please refrain from using any other cheats while playing. -- Normal or Long lifespans. -- Careers are up to you, UNLESS stated otherwise. -- You need to complete each requisite (goals, and challenges for the generation. Aspirations if stated) before that sim dies. If they die before everything is completed, their heir must pick a goal or challenge to complete in honor of them. -- If they die before producing a heir, you fail. -- If a sim dies from freezing, their heir must honor them by building a small memorial or shrine. Gen 1: Winter Dreamer Backstory: Having spent their life in the desert, this Sim dreams of snow-covered landscapes. They’ve saved enough to move to a permanent winter wonderland. Snow brings them joy, and they dedicate themselves to creating a cozy, snow-loving life. Traits: Cheerful, Loves Outdoors, Family-Oriented Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer  Goals:

Complete your aspiration entirely. 

ALWAYS Complete the Winterfest holiday tradition (decorate the tree, cook a holiday meal, etc).

Have a Hot Tub on your plot. (OR build a pool and add decorative rocks and greenery around it)

Collect all Sammies. 

Challenge: Your Sim must spend 3+ hours outside daily, no matter the weather or their needs. (It can be making snow angels or exploring town, etc.)

Gen 2: Frostbitten Adventurer Backstory: Growing up surrounded by snow, this Sim craves adrenaline-fueled adventures. They embrace the wildness of winter, seeking thrilling experiences and surviving extreme conditions. Traits: Adventurous, Active, Self-Assured Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast Goals:

Master the Snowboarding skill.

Reach at least Rock Climbing level 5, to prepare for intense outdoor activities. 

Woo a partner during a Festival of Snow or a snowy outing.

Challenge:  Participate in at least three snowboarding, sledding, or skiing competitions—and win at least one before aging up.

Gen 3: Icy Artisan  Backstory: Born into a family of survivors and adventurers, this Sim found solace in the beauty of the winter landscape and became a renowned artist known for their winter-themed works. Traits: Creative, Loves the Outdoors, Proper Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire Goals:

Visit a National Park (via Outdoor Retreat pack) or build a homestead filled with outdoor elements.

Paint or take 8 winter-themed works (snowy forests, ice skating, festive winter scenes).

Embrace Winterfest as their favorite holiday, decorating the tree, and hosting festive gatherings.

Challenge: To make a living, they will rely only on their art—no regular jobs allowed. No thermostat can be used to heat the home this generation, use fireplaces or space heaters instead.

Gen 4: Frozen Royalty Backstory: This Sim believes they are the ruler of a frozen kingdom. Eccentric and ambitious, they build an empire to match their icy vision, complete with loyal subjects and a grand icy palace. Traits: Ambitious, Snob, Romantic Aspiration: Mansion Baron Goals:

Host at least two grand events each winter (Winter Balls, fancy dinners, or other social gatherings). These events must include 6+ guests, top-quality food, and gold-level rewards.

Have at least one child with Father Winter.

During the winter season, go ice skating. Max the skating skill. You are allowed to put them on your plot so you don't need to travel, if you have the funds and room. (There is one located somewhere in Mt. Komorebi, if you dont have Snowy Escape, travel to Magnolia Blossom Park in Willow Creek during winter.)

Challenge: Your heir must inherit an heirloom and keep the ‘icy empire’ alive. (if you don't own life and Death, that’s okay, just pick something that stays with the heir until they die. It can be in their inventory or place somewhere in the lot.

Gen 5: The Eternal Winter Keeper? As the heir to a family built on the love for winter and it’s traditions, you’ve always known your role: to continue your ancestors’ mission of preserving the eternal frost. But as the years go on, you’ve begun to question your destiny. You long for warmth, sun, and freedom from the cold. The decision weighs heavily on your heart:

Will you stay loyal to your family and uphold their wintery legacy? Or will you break away and forge a new path, leaving snow behind for the warmth of tropical shores?

Path 1: Frozen Protector Backstory: For generations, your family has served as stewards of winter—a lineage entrusted with keeping the delicate balance between the icy season’s beauty and its unforgiving harshness. You’ve grown up knowing that, as the next heir, the title of Winter Keeper will one day fall on you. Will you prove yourself worthy of the mantle, or will winter lose its way in your hands?Traits: Loyal, Outgoing, Lovebug (If not possible, use Romantic)Aspiration: Successful Lineage Goals:

Befriend at least three Sims who are “winter aligned” (traits like Loves Outdoors, Loner, or Creative, etc) and strengthen your bond by doing winter-related activities together at least once a week with one of them. If you have Get together, make a club with outlines relating to cold or festive activities. 

Find your soulmate in a winter setting (at a snow-covered lot or during a winter festival). Woo them with romantic gestures like snowball fights, outdoor stargazing, or ice skating. Have an outside wedding with them.

Ensure your child connects with winter traditions by maxing out a related skill before they become a young adult (e.g., Violin for haunting melodies, Charisma for storytelling, or Fitness for winter sports).

Challenge: Add at least one major improvement to the family’s estate if you haven’t already: build an outdoor skating rink, a winter conservatory, or a family mausoleum for past heirs.

Path 2: The Sun Seeker Backstory: You’ve always felt like an outsider in your family, your dreams of warmth clashing with their love for snow. After years of feeling stifled by the cold, you decide to take the boldest step of all: abandoning your family’s icy traditions and embracing a life of sun, freedom, and joy. But forging a new path is never easy, especially when your roots are steeped in frost. Traits: Child Of the Ocean, Outgoing, Foodie Aspiration: Beach Life (Angling Ace if you don't own IL) Goals:

Move to a tropical destination (preferably Sulani) and embrace the warm climate fully. Marry a local Sim and raise your family in the tropical paradise!

Max out the Fishing skill

Befriend the dolphins (Island Living) or form a club of locals to celebrate your new lifestyle.

Challenge:  Abandon all winter traditions. You can never celebrate Winterfest again. You must create a new summer holiday, or host a big party every Summer.

If you decide to take part, let me know by using #TS4WinterLC in your post! I hope to start this challenge in the next few days and share my progress ^.^

If you’d like to read it on a different platform, here’s the google doc!

I hope you have fun, stay warm, and happy simming everyone! ☃️

@ts4challengehub

[wwaheoh]

"Celebrity Worship" Robin x gnReader, SFW(?), Angst

a/n: contains blood, stabbing, and themes of possesiveness. jfc it was so hard to find a png pic of robin and not a webp pic its like the new fake transparent shit

Dating a celebrity was hard. Worrying about the paparazzi, time restraints, not being able to go out in public without security, overprotective brothers- though that could just be this specific case, rabid fans, the list goes on. Knowing this, you still accepted Robin’s feelings. It was great, she was the most wonderful person, spending time with her was never dull, and you accepted all of her. The problem was, everyone else.

You would be with her on a walk from a nice dinner when a news reporter would exclaim, “Robin!”, leading the vultures known as paparazzi to immediately circle in from out of the woodwork. Flashes of lights and yells blinding overriding your senses.

Days where you were at your shared home, you’d see fans of Robin loitering around. All for the sake of seeing their precious idol.

On social media, people would talk about how they wished for you two to break up or that you’d somehow die. Stating how you weren’t enough for the superstar and how you were undeserving. Even going so far as to send death threats in your comments or private messages. You always blocked them and tried to pay it no heed. Never telling Robin about what happened, knowing she’d take it strongly.

She loved you, and you her.

-

Robin was hosting an event, a new expansion of the Clockie amusement park opening up and she was there to present its grand opening- as well as go on some rides and get some exclusive merch. You were behind the scenes, standing farther away and watching her do her thing.

Steps unheard behind you, a sharp pain ringing through your lower abdomen as someone shouted at you, spit landing on your face as they screeched at you. “You don’t deserve her!” Warmth trickled down as they pushed you down to the ground, another sharp pain bloomed before they were tackled by security.

You lay there, as blood trickled out of you into the puddle forming underneath. You could hear Robin screaming, having abandoned the stage and run over to your side, crying for medical support.

“No, no, please don’t leave me!”

The darkness called as your eyelids grew heavy, seeing Robin being pulled back by paramedics.

-

Several days in the ICU, the sterile smell, heart monitor, and a sobbing Robin by your bedside were your companions. There were times where Robin would have to leave, commitments already signed off on and statements to give to the press. Surgery was required but had gone off without a hitch, Robin made sure you’d gotten the best treatment possible.

There was the question of how the fan had passed security and been able to attack you. With this being a known issue, you’d think they’d have been on high alert…

One day, Robin came, with you having asked her to come so you could discuss something with her. Today was your final day, only a few more check-ups and you’d be free to go.

She arrived, a few minutes earlier than planned. The bright- if tired smile, on her face.

Setting her bag down, she walked over to your bedside. “Today’s the day you’re going to be discharged! I’m so happy you’re okay.” There was a pause, expecting you to respond. When you didn’t, she continued, “Did you want to go out and eat? I could make reservations!”

“Robin.”

“Mhm?”

“I think we should take a break…”

“H-huh? What do you mean?”

“From us… we should take a break from us.”

Over the days you spent thinking while in admittance, you realized that you weren’t cut to date a celebrity. Robin wasn’t the issue, she was kind, beautiful, inside and out. Someone who worked hard for what she wanted, genuine, with a fire in her soul. But to date a celebrity would be to be put under a microscope, millions of people wanted to be in your position, and some were crazy enough to think that they did the right thing by attacking you, both over the internet and… in person.

“You- you don’t mean that!”

Robin’s voice rose, tears streaming across her face as she moved closer.

You already regretted this. But you couldn’t do this, not with having been attacked for the sole reason of dating someone. Not right now at least.

“Please!”

You wanted to hug her, but the phantom pain in your abdomen rang throughout your body.

“Please…”

“Only for a couple months… it’s not you. Just.. I need to… recuperate.”

Robin didn’t want to keep you, but she also didn’t want you to leave. But the dove with freedom, in her eyes, was better than the dove locked in a cage.

With a hoarse voice, “Oh- okay. Just… call me, when you’re ready. I love you…”

She stood up, every step was as if she were wearing lead boots. She didn’t want to keep you but she also didn’t want you to leave. The free dove was better than being caged. She wanted you to be free, but she also wanted you to be with her. Sunday had always talked about how caging a bird was better, better to be alive than dead, no matter the cost. His words all those years ago echoed in her mind as she made her way to the door.

“I love you too.”

Your voice broke through her spiral.

Only a couple months, and you’d be back. You survived, you just needed some time.

She looked back at you, nodding with a soft smile before leaving.

[snapscube]

Would I like ff14 if I hate mmos but love ff?

so, i really got into ff14 LONG before i was as into FF as i am now, and before i ever enjoyed MMOs wholeheartedly. but i was still open to it, i didn't actively hate either.

14 is VERY MUCH an MMO. it has all of the genre trappings. but also, much of the game's progression revolves around the main story. which is not only single player quality, especially the further you get into the expansions, but it now can be played MOSTLY singleplayer. you can take AI party members into a majority of the main story duties. the only thing you'll be REQUIRED to do with other players are the crystal tower raids and most of the boss duties (trials)

the free trial is very generous so, ultimately, if you like final fantasy it's worth a shot. this game is like THE final fantasy theme park game. there are a ton of references and a bunch of plot allusions. i literally can not tell you for sure if youd like it, thats up to you. if you genuinely just hate MMOs beyond reason based off of a lot of experience then i would guess no, you probably wouldnt like it. if you have only tried maybe one or two MMOs and bounced off pretty early so you mostly just THINK you hate MMOs, there is literally nothing to lose by installing the free trial. it's the first one i ever clicked with and to this day it's the most time i've spent on any game in the genre.

[mcondance]

“and i wish that i could be with you tonight, you give me butterflies”

butterflies — oj haywood

pairing oj haywood x Black!afab fem reader

contents slow burn, kinda, but not too much. little bit of angst and self doubt. canon-compliant except holst and jupe did not die, smut (unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), creampies, it gets rough for like one scene but nothing too crazy)

words 8.8k

notes handful of michael jackson references (like 3) so if you don't like michael kill yourself, oh also the title is from butterflies by michael too, this is a re-upload from my old blog!

.

.

.

The pictures of the horses are beautiful, but the horses themselves? They’re gorgeous. After seeing countless pictures of them and marveling at the still images, you ask Holst who’s horses they are, and if their owner would be okay with you popping up for just a second. 

The drive is long as hell, some big ass ranch out in Agua Dulce, far from anything except for Jupe’s Theme Park. You make plans to visit one day. Today you’re on a mission to lay eyes on some of the most beautiful animals you’ve seen. Which is saying a lot, since you work with pictures of Holst’s animals all day. 

The man that meets you at the ranch is.. not amused. In fact, he looks extremely annoyed. It seems like Holst is a liar. 

“Who are you?” he asks, face scrunched up from the heat of the sun, hands on his hips, body language giving stand-offish. You give him your name and he barely acknowledges it. He would much rather know why you’re here and what you want.

“I, um, I work with Holst.” you say with a nervous smile, his displeasure at your unexpected and uninvited presence evident. “I just saw some pictures of the horses and I had to see them in person.” 

Hearing your reasoning for basically trespassing on his ranch strikes a bit of a nerve in him. He’s never met someone who’s that interested in the horses. But he wants to get this over with quickly. He got shit to do, and you just interrupted the horses feeding time.

He turns, nods in a gesture that you take as him telling you to follow him, and walks off. You follow closely, but not too close. You don’t wanna seem like more of a weirdo than you’re sure you already do. 

“You drove all the way out here just to see my horses?” he questions, leaning on the arena near a pretty brown horse as he waits for you to catch up. 

“Yeah.” you nod. “I been seeing pictures of them for some months now and i just wanted to see them in person.”’

“Mhm.” he nods, reaching up to sift some dirt off of Lucky’s mane. 

You step a little closer to the arena, and Oj figures you want to pet Lucky. “Come ‘ere.“ He nods his head again, this time gesturing you to follow him towards the horse. You do, falling into place beside him. 

“Gimme your hand.” He reaches for you and meets you in the middle and places it on Lucky. His hair is soft and silky, hot from the California sun, and you can tell just from a feel that Oj takes good care of him, of all of his horses. He’s gentle with your hand, holds it and guides you. That makes heat rise in your cheeks, heat that’s definitely not caused by the sun beating down on you two.

Then Oj pulls his hand away from yours, casting his eyes over the expanse of land. 

That breaks you out of your awe-induced stupor. 

“I gotta get home.” you say, walking off before he gets the chance to say anything.

On the way home, you have flashes of the cowboy playing through your mind, the burning heat on your hand remaining from his touch, and a couple of butterflies find a hopefully temporary home in your stomach.

—

The next day, you come back. 

You find him in the stables this time, throwing hay into the stalls.

Oj’s surprised. Usually, people pet the horses, hang around for a little while, and then lose interest.

“Hey, Oj.” you wave happily.

“Hey. You wanna help me feed them?” He assumes that you’d like to, since you’ve shown some interest in them. And of course you do.

It’s not easy, the bales of hay heavier than you anticipated. But you take the work in stride. It’s not too hard, not when you get to admire these beautiful animals and see how they work. And, to be honest, you like seeing how their owner works as well.

He’s so handsome, with his pretty brown skin, glistening with sweat, the image of a hard-working man. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how, but the cowboy thing is working for him and on you. He’s captivating, his dedication to his horses and his quiet demeanor working together to have you tripping over your words and feet around him.

You could blame it on the heat, or you could blame it on the feeling of his eyes on you the entire time. You’re sure he’s just trying to make sure you don’t fuck up his horses, but you can’t lie, it’s nice to feel for just a second that a man like this is interested in you. 

When he asks how long you’ve been working for Holst, it’s like you completely forget the last 8 months of your life. You stutter over your words, and you’re quite literally confused on how you could stutter over two simple words. Still, you do, and you’re sure you just setback any progress you made in getting Oj to find you at all attractive and worth being around.

Because that’s the problem. That’s the dilemma. Here you have a man, who’s happiest in solitude and quiet, and here you are, talkative and loud, and you think you want him to want you. That’s the problem you have. And it’s a big, inescapable problem.

He tells you to hang back by the door of one stable while you’re thinking, telling you that this horse doesn’t take too kindly to strangers. That gives you another chance to really take him in.

He’s so goddamn attractive, and you’re so glad he’s so focused on the horse, because you’re shamelessly staring at his thighs, visibly thick through the denim of jeans. His chest is built; it’s visible under his shirt, too. 

And the butterflies are there once again, accompanied by the heat encompassing your entire being.

It isn’t quite professional to be eyeing one of your coworker’s business partners like this, but you’re too caught up in your reverie to care. 

And then Oj turns around, and you snap out of it as fast as you can. Not fast enough, you suppose, because he asks you if you’re okay when he makes it back over to you. 

“You good?” he asks. “The heat is a lot. You can go if you’re getting too hot.”

“No, no, I’m good!” you nod, reassuring him through a heavy breath. 

“You sure?” he pushes, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yeah.” you nod, but you’re not at all okay. He’s close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you have to suppress a chuckle at his previous choice of words. You are getting too hot. 

It’s just.. with the way he towers over you, looking down at you under the brim of his hat, the way his pretty brown skin shines with sweat, the way he’s so fucking warm and his lips look so goddamn nice, you can barely focus on anything else. And the way he’s staring at you like he wants to do something more than stare has you questioning if Holst would be upset if you kissed his business partner after only knowing him for like 2 days.

A horse neighs. Oj backs up immediately. You have to go, have to get from around Oj before you do some reckless shit.

“That was the last horse, right?” you ask shakily, uneasiness leaking into your voice.

“Yeah.” he nods, hands on his hips, his stance driving you insane.

“I guess that’s my cue, then.” you respond, walking off before he can even fit another word in.

On the drive home, Oj’s the only thing on your mind.

—

Visiting the Haywood ranch this time is for two reasons.

One: you want to ride one of the horses.

And Two: Oj fucking Haywood.

This time, surprisingly, he isn’t outside with the horses. You hear music playing from the house, so you assume he’s in there. Before you can even knock, the door opens, and you’re met with the face of the man you think you’re developing feelings for. 

“Hey.” he greets you.

“Hey!”

“If you wanted to feed them or something, it’s past their feeding ti-”

“No!” you cut him off before he can shut you down and send you home. “I was hoping you’d take me, uh, horse riding.” You say it like a question, eyes searching his face for any emotion, any answer to your question. The music playing is a glaring foil to your current feelings, smooth reggae contrasting with your hyper aware and scrambled mind. You don’t know how he does it. 

“Yeah. I’ll take you horse riding.” he nods, stepping out of his house and closing the door. He clicks at you in that certain way, jerks his head in what you know to be directing you towards the horses. 

“Which one?” he asks when you both make it to the stables.

“Lucky.” you answer. “I’ve liked him since I saw the pictures of him.” Once it leaves your mouth, you’re sure it sounds weird. But his reaction, a warm smile that seems genuine, tells you otherwise. Perhaps he’s growing as fond of you as you are of him. 

After he saddles Lucky up, he calls you over to the horse. 

“Okay, so I’m gonna help you up. You ready?” he asks, leaning down to cup his hands together. You nod, throwing one hand over Lucky and stepping into his hands. He boosts you up, and then he’s swinging up behind you, reaching around you to grab the reins.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Because you can feel him against you, and if you don’t hold on tight enough, you just might fall off the damn horse.

“You ready?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” you nod. 

He takes you down through the gulch, takes you near Jupe’s Park and somewhere way behind the ranch. The sun is beating down on you two, but you know it isn’t the cause of what you feel.

The heat that has enveloped you is caused by Oj’s arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing every once in a while to guide Lucky. Caused by the way you can feel his chest pressed against you, firm and warm. The way merely being close to him has your head spinning.

At some point, he notices the sun starting to bother you. You feel him shift behind you and see his arm go up, and then his hat is on your head, and you’re pushing it down to make sure it doesn’t fall off. 

It means nothing, you’re sure. He’s just being nice. But god, it means so much to you, though you’re sure it shouldn’t.

When you make it back to the ranch, you’re jittery and nervous, letting him help you off the horse and then backing up from him as soon as you’re off, handing him his hat from a distance. He doesn’t say anything, crediting it to being your first horse ride and the heat. He’s right, sort of. Just not right about where the heat’s coming from.

He waves you a quick goodbye in that attractive cowboy way, two fingers and all flicking off his forehead in a salute, and you turn away, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

You’ve tried to make your feelings for the quiet man go away, but he’s not made it any better. 

You like Oj. There’s no denying it, no hiding it. You’ve fallen for a cowboy. 

–

Some time passes between your realization and your next visit. You needed some time to think, to make sure what you feel for him isn’t just some stupid crossing of wires in your brain. 

It isn’t. He’s on your mind every goddamn for the next 2 weeks. 

Your visit is Holst’s doing this time. He wants you to take some more pictures of the horses. You go reluctantly, not arguing with him so he doesn’t start to pry.

When you get there, Oj seems happy to see you. You credit it to wishful thinking, or maybe he’s just happy to be here with his horses. You don’t know, and you don’t intend to think about it for long. You just flash him your camera and a wry smile and he nods, understanding what you’re here to do. 

Well, what you’re here trying to do. 

You’re too distracted, eyes flitting over to him with everything you do. You’ll be lucky if you get one clear picture, hands fumbling with the camera like you haven’t been taking pictures all your life.

Everytime your eyes find him, his eyes have found you as well, glances shared from under the brim of his hat. It feels like you’re both in middle school, trying to sneak little glances at your crush from across the ranch, your work going undone.

You’re trying. You really are. You try to focus on your task, to take the pictures Holst needs and leave, but you can’t settle the butterflies in your stomach, can’t get rid of that familiar heat, not with Oj’s gaze lingering over your every move.

But you’re just imagining things. You know you are. There’s no way Oj’s even giving you a second thought. He’s just watching his horses, making sure they’re in good hands. 

You feel uncomfortable even being around Oj, knowing you feel the way you do for him and being sure he doesn’t feel the same. You have to go home. You have to get from around him before you do some shit you’ll regret.

You turn to leave, to sneak off before he even has the chance to realize you’re gone. You won’t come back again. You’ll think up some bullshit excuse to give Holst later. 

But then Oj’s voice sounds out from across the way, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, where you going?”

Shit.

“Home. I don’t wanna bother you anymore.” you answer, turning towards him, figuring you’ll be truthful since this is the last time you plan to see him.

The look on his face is one of confusion, which matches what you feel inside. This can’t be happening right now.

“You’re not bothering me.” he says. You’re sure he’s lying, right? He’s just trying to be nice, trying not to ruin his business relationship with Holst, trying not to hurt the weird photographer who popped up at his ranch one day’s feelings.

“I think I am.” you respond, eyes looking down at the dirt. Anywhere but at Oj. “It’s obvious you like being alone.”

“I do like being alone.” he nods, walking towards you. You knew it. 

You nod at his statement, gearing up to ask him why he even stopped you. You back up, ready to leave. Until he speaks again. 

“Unless I find someone who’s worth sharing my space with.” 

Your head shoots up, eyes meet Oj’s sincere expression of emotion. 

“Am I worth sharing your space with?” you just want to hear his answer, need to hear it spoken straight from his mouth. 

He’s so close now, mere inches separating you two. And the heat is there again, and the butterflies settle in your stomach, just like they have everytime you two have been this close. 

“Hell yeah.”

His lips crash against yours, the brim of his hat brushing against your forehead. You both can’t be bothered to care, not when the yearning of two people too afraid to say anything has finally been sated. Not when your lips feel so good together, when he can taste you and you can taste him. Not when his hands have found your waist and are gently squeezing, and your hands have found his neck, scratching softly at the short hair there. 

Not when the heat of the California sun is nothing compared to the heat shared between you two. 

You both separate for air, and Oj takes that as a chance to pick his hat up. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling your heartbeat as your chest heaves. He stands back up, laughing breathlessly.

“You dropped my hat.” he jokes, dusting it off. His eyes meet yours again.

“Well, it was hindering my ability to kiss the very handsome cowboy standing right in front of me.” 

“Yeah, alright.” he laughs, putting his hat on your head. 

“I’d hate to ruin the moment, but I gotta go home.” you say reluctantly, blushing at Oj’s action and tucking your braids under the hat.

“Yeah.” he nods, looking in the direction of the already setting sun, hands on his hips like they always are when he’s focused. “Next time you visit, I’m taking you out.” He smiles now, pretty white teeth shining. He looks happy, you think. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” you smile back. He kisses you on your forehead as a goodbye. 

This time on your drive home, you don’t chase the images of the cowboy flashing through your mind away.

—

Your next visit to the ranch is by invitation. You could call it a date, you guess. 

When you get there, the man that meets you is obviously so happy to see you. He greets you with a kiss, one hand on your cheek, resting tenderly. He tastes like lemonade, and his body is warm like the heat of the sun. You hate to pull away, but you just have to admire the handsome cowboy standing right there in front of you.

He has an orange hoodie on, with something like “Scorpion King” written on it. It’s late in the evening, so you can just barely make it out. It looks good on him.

“You staring?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah.” you nod with a smile. “I can’t admire the man I just kissed? Plus the hoodie looks good on you.”

He doesn’t answer, just smiles again, shaking his head at your words. 

“Nice hat.” he changes the subject, motioning with a nod towards the hat on your head that looks suspiciously similar to the one he gave you last time you saw each other.

“Where we going?” you change the topic, saving yourself from your own bashfulness. 

“There’s this food place like, 5 minutes from Jupe’s Claim.” He decides  to leave you alone, but inside he’s feeling all sappy about you wearing it.

“Cool.” you smile. 

The drive there is filled with talking, mostly on your part, and laughing on Oj’s. You both fall into this dynamic quickly. You speak, and Oj listens. You like it. 

You eat in his truck because you know that Oj doesn’t wanna be in the building with that many people. He tries to protest, but you stand firm, even locking the doors when he tries to leave the vehicle.

“You know, you’re holding me hostage.” he deadpans, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, okay.” you laugh through a mouthful of fries. He can’t help but chuckle, reaching for his food.

“And in my own vehicle?” he jokes, placing more fries into his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” you acquiesce. “We’re not going in there. I like it like this, just me and you.” 

His eyes meet yours, and you’re so grateful that you can say something about it this time, can act on what you’ve been feeling for the past month or so. So you kiss him, and kissing him feels just as good as the first time. 

When you hook your phone up to the aux and turn some music on, he cracks a smile, which turns into a laugh when you begin to passionately sing the lyrics. 

“You’re very excited about this, I see.” he remarks.

“Hell yes I am!” you scream over the track. “It’s my favorite song!” 

He just nods, choosing to silently watch as you give him the show of your life, grabbing at his hoodie and sobbing exaggeratedly to get the song’s point across.

You end up back at the ranch after a while, sometime after midnight. You leave, still feeling Oj’s lips on your forehead, his form of a goodbye. 

— 

No way. 

Absolutely no way.

You rub your eyes like on the cartoons, squinting to make sure your vision is correct.

“Oj, what the hell!” you scream up at him.

“What.” he responds, like he’s not outside your house on top of a literal horse.

“Why are you on a horse!”

“I wanna take you horse riding. This time as my girlfriend.”

As his girlfriend.

“Good lord.” you laugh as Oj hops off of Lucky so he can help you up. 

“How’d you know where I live?” you ask as he boosts you onto Lucky with a grunt. 

“Holst.” He answers shortly. This man is gonna drive you insane. He swings up behind you, and then you both are off, riding through the countryside.

He’s so warm, and you are too, just like that third time y’all met. This time, you can express your thoughts to him. 

“You know, last time we did this, it made my feelings worse.” 

“Is it doing it again?” he asks, not questioning what else you meant.

“Yeah. Hell yeah.” you nod, and you feel him smile against your neck as he places a kiss there. His hand ghosts up your side, the other staying steady on the reins, and he places his hat on your head, just like the other time.

You smile to yourself, relishing in having the affection of the cowboy you could’ve sworn didn’t care for anything other than his horses. 

When he drops you off at your house, you kiss him goodbye this time. He leans down over the horse to accept your kiss with smiling lips, and then he’s nodding like the stereotypical cowboy and riding off to his house. 

Who would have known Otis Haywood Junior could be such a sweetheart?

— 

Oj’s vinyl collection is insane.  Currently playing is “Fisherman” by the Congos, the same song that was playing the day you came over for a horse ride.

Oj comes into the living room, two glasses of lemonade in both of his hands. 

“I like this song.” you say.

“That’s good. It’s one of my favorites.” he responds, handing you a glass and taking a seat beside you on the couch. 

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re this good at making lemonade?” you question dramatically, going back in for another sip.

“I live on a hot ass ranch and I’m outside most of the day. I thought that would be obvious.” He’s a sarcastic little thing, all snarky and cocky under that stoic exterior. You feel so grateful to be able to see this side of him, the side that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. 

He finishes up the lemonade in his cup, setting it on the table beside the couch and hopping up to change the vinyl. 

“What you turning on?” you ask, swirling your remaining drink around in your glass. 

“It’s a lil vinyl I made for us.” He pulls the record out, replacing the one on the player with it.

“You.. you made a vinyl for us?” you ask incredulously, in fucking shock. 

“Yeah.” he nods, placing the needle on the record. You recognize the song as one of the ones that you played in the truck on your first date. The one you told him was your favorite. 

“You remembered.” 

“Of course I did.” You go silent at that, enjoying the song in a different context now.

He goes to the kitchen to wash and put up the glasses, leaving you in the living room, smiling when he hears you singing along to the record. When he comes back, another song is starting.

“All you got to do is walk away and pass me by, don’t acknowledge my smile when I try to say hello to you, yeah”

Michael Jackson croons off the player, singing lyrics that song very similar to you and Oj’s meetings and now relationship. 

“That sounds like us at first.” you laugh, remembering Oj’s reluctance to even allow you on his ranch when you two first met.

“Does it?” he questions with a tilt of his head, fully aware that it sounds just like him. 

“It does.” 

“I just want to touch and kiss, and I wish that I could be with you tonight, cause you give me butterflies”

“You definitely give me butterflies.” you admit. 

He’s standing cross-armed now, leaning against the table that the player sits on. 

“Come ‘ere.” he beckons with a smile at your confession and a jerk of his head, outstretching his hand to you. 

You stand up, entangling your hands and fingers with his. His other hand meets your hip as he starts to sway back and forth, and you fall in line with his dance. 

“Would never have pegged you for the slow dancing type, but it works, to be honest.” you smile, eyes fixed on his. He smiles back, shrugging and kissing you on your forehead. 

“If you would take my hand, baby I would show you, guide you to the light, babe”

Time seems to slow, the world outside falling away, leaving just you and Oj here together, dancing to music off a vinyl player on his ranch, your hands connected, bodies moving in sync. It feels kinda overwhelming, falling so fast for a man you were sure didn’t want anything to do with you. 

Your eyes meet again, and so many things are said with just a glance. You have to talk, have to do something to deal with what you’re feeling. He looks too enamored with you, and you’re in too deep to not express it.

“Oj, I-” but he cuts you off with a kiss, knowing what you want to say. 

“Don’t talk.” he shakes his head, separating for just a second. “Just do.” he nods, and then he moves back in. He’s sweet, a mix of lemonade and something you can only describe as him. His other hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face, and you almost melt at his tenderness when you feel his thumb start to rub softly. Your hands find his waist, tangling in the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep you in this plane of existence. It doesn’t quite work, though, because merely existing with this man sends you high enough to make sure you’ll never come down. 

“Cause you give me butterflies inside”

When you both pull away, it’s with closed eyes and heaving chests. It takes you a second to come back down, to ground yourself back on earth. Oj’s hands have found your waist now, and yours are folded in front of you, too scared to touch him for fear of what will happen next.

He’s starstruck, but sure about what he wants. His hands find yours as your eyes open to find him gazing at you with adoration and sureness, and he places them on the waistband of his jeans, smiling against your lips when you hook your fingers in the loops and pull him ever closer, sighing against his lips when his warmth overtakes you. 

Then he kisses you again, hands moving down to where yours are, ghosting under your shirt and resting on the skin above the waistband of your shorts. The kiss is deep, and before you know it your tongue slips into his mouth and his is in yours, and tongue-kissing would be gross with anyone else but with Oj it feels right. Everything feels right with him, and you swear you can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your thigh. 

You can’t blame him though, because the heat he’s made fall over you has spread, has entrapped you and found its way between your legs. 

And, maybe fueled by arousal, or Oj’s urging for you to just feel and do, you unbutton his jeans. You don’t know what to do next, don’t know anything about how he likes it or how he wants it, but you don’t give yourself time to doubt. You hook your fingers in his belt loops again and pull him towards the couch, and you fall back, letting him take his place hovering over you. 

He leans down to kiss you again, like he’s addicted to the feeling of your lips against his, your taste mixing with him. And he is, god he is. He can’t separate, can’t bring himself to just stop kissing you, so he doesn’t. You separate just for a second, just long enough to push his jeans down so he can take the hint, and he steps out of them, leaning right back down to kiss you again. 

His kisses flow from your lips down to your neck, and your hands find purchase in his short curls, nails scraping at his scalp, and the appreciative groan he gives you send chills racking through you. He kisses and licks, sucks and bites until he finds the spot that makes you squirm and whine just a little louder than the rest. You feel him smile against your skin, then, and you can’t stifle a smile either. 

“You found it.” you say quietly, like talking too loud will wake you out of a dream, and you’ll wake up in your bed and not under Oj on his couch, with music playing off his vinyl record player. 

“Mhm.” he hums against your neck before he goes to work on that spot, focusing his kisses and licks on that sensitive patch of skin. His hands drift down your body, nimble fingers unbuttoning your shorts with one hand. You lean into his touch, nodding when his eyes find yours, and he asks “Is this okay?”

Your brain blanks at the feeling of his hand so close to the heat that he’s created inside you. And then his hand slides into your shorts, slipping into your underwear to meet the mess he’s made of you.

“This all for me?” he asks with a smile, and you, with a heaving chest and a fluttery stomach, nod again, head falling back onto the couch. His other hand eases the shorts down your legs, giving himself more room to work with. On his way back, he kisses down your leg, drawing a small laugh from you, so happy to be seeing this loving side of him, and he smiles at you. 

Then he’s focused again, fingers moving against you, experimenting with different angles and movements and motions, still kissing and nuzzling at your neck while you whine and squirm. He’s determined, wants to find that one thing that makes you tick.

And then he finds it.

“Fuck, that’s it.” you moan, chest arching into him, feeling him press against you, firm and warm, as his fingers find your clit. 

“That’s it?” he asks, mirroring you as you nod before he even gets the question out. It’s arousing, for some reason, and he swears he can feel the blood rush to your clit. He rubs soft circles over it, watching your face, making it his one and only purpose at this moment to learn how you like, how you want it and what drives you crazy. And when he rubs a certain way, flicks his fingers just right, he can’t help but smile again at the unadulterated moan that rips from deep in your chest. 

“That’s it.” he speaks against that sensitive spot he’s found on your neck, and it drives you wild.

“Shit.” is all you can manage, back falling down from its arch, legs closing around his hand. 

Oj takes it all in, your whines, your groans, the way you squirm and shake and jerk against him. It feels so good, Oj on top of you, his hands on your body, one between your legs and the other stroking your hair, soothing you as you get lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you. 

“Feels so good.” you whine, one hand curled in his hair, the other curled in the fabric of his shirt that you wish was off right now. “Off.” you manage to say, and he hates to pull his hand away, but he gives you what you want, pulls his shirt off as fast as he can, returning his hand to where you both want it. 

“You dripping, baby.” he hums, and you shiver at the pet name that slips off his lips so easily. 

You bring him down into yet another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he finds his rhythm again, working you up into ecstasy like  you’ve never felt before. 

“You- fuck, you make me feel so good.” you confess. “You’re making me feel so good.” 

That makes him press harder, makes his movements against your clit speed up, makes him grow harder and heavier against your thigh. He needed that, needed to know that what he’s doing is still something you want. 

“You shaking, baby. Feel good, yeah?” His accent has you hanging off his every word, his deep voice and drawl adding to the blood rushing to your clit. 

“I wanna come.” you say, eyes locked on his. 

“Well come, baby, you got that shit.” And you do, shaking and shivering as you soak his hand and your underwear and the couch beneath you. You find it funny how you’re coming for him on his couch, coming for a man you swore didn’t want you, laughing as you come down, small huffs with your arm thrown over your face, in awe at how fast and hard he made you come. 

Then his lips are meeting yours again, and everything feels so perfect, final pieces of clothing falling onto the floor beside the couch.

You and Oj make love that night on his couch for the first time, with a vinyl he made for you two playing.

–

You wake up in his bed, slightly confused until the memories of last night come rushing back.

—

Oj bottoming out inside you, kissing you softly as his hips slot against you. His thrusts jolting you up the couch, your arms and legs wrapped around him, his soft praises of “You look so pretty, been wanting this for so long” meeting with your moans and groans of “Right there, fuck, right there, Oj.” 

Your chest arching into his, breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard and peaked and sensitive. His hand finding your chest, flicking softly, smiling once again at the shakes that rack through you. His golden chain dangling over you, glittering and hitting against your chin with every forward push of his hips into your heat.

Your hands gripping at his back, scratching and smoothing down his pretty brown skin, leaving red marks in your wake. His hisses and moans into your mouth at the feeling, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths too.

His fingers finding your clit, using the circles he learned earlier. Your legs tightening around his waist, his other hand ghosting down your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin, tight enough to leave pretty marks that you’ll admire in the California sunlight tomorrow. 

Both of your moans and pants, warnings of your impending orgasms mixing together until you’re coming with each other. You soak his cock and he fills you up, giving warmth to each other like you’ve never felt before. 

Oj collapsing on top of you, caging you in, you both resting in the afterglow of making love after holding back. Music sounding out, the soundtrack to you and Oj’s expression of passion.

Oj carrying you to his bed after a while, disappearing and returning with a warm, wet towel. While he was gone, you heard the music stop. You feel his hands ghost between your legs, soft and slow as he cleans you up, throwing the covers back over you. 

Oj coming back after putting the towel away, settling on the other side of the bed, not knowing what to do next. You moving over to him immediately, arm thrown over his chest, and his arm coming up to embrace you. 

You both drifting to sleep, laying in each other’s arms.

— 

Oh. So that’s why you’re in his bed.

You throw the covers off your body, and you admire the bruises on your thighs in the California sun streaming through his windows. He’s not beside you, but you hear music spinning and smell food cooking. 

You pick one of his shirts from his closet, a faded blue tee that stops right around the middle of your thigh. The marks he left yesterday are slightly covered, but enough peek out to satisfy your loving admiration of his touch left lingering on you. 

When you make your way to the kitchen, you find Oj at the stove stirring a panfull of eggs. There’s two plates sitting on the counter, decked out with toast slathered in jelly, grits, and sausage. The food is paired with two glasses of cold lemonade — you can tell by the way the glasses are dripping in condensation.

He’s just finishing up, sliding eggs onto both plates. He leans into your touch when you embrace him, sliding your arms over his sides and to his front. 

“G’morning.” you hum.

“G’morning, pretty girl.” is his response, voice deep with sleep, deep enough to shake you to your core. He turns around in your arms, places a finger under your chin to lift your lips to his. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Great. Even better since I was beside you.” you answer honestly, your smile mirroring his. 

“Yeah?” he muses, before dipping down again to kiss you once more. 

Kissing Oj feels like magic, feels like sparks and flames and butterflies, shooting heat through every nerve in your body. He pulls away just to sit there, to smile at you and watch you smile back, before kissing you again.

His hands ghost under his your shirt, resting on your waist. He hums at the lack of obstruction, the way what you both know is going to happen is just within his reach. You rest your hands on the sides of his face, thumb rubbing against his skin. 

Things move fast this time. His hands are running down your body and over your thighs, hooking under your knees to place you on the counter, still kissing you with all he has in him. 

His jeans and boxers are down as quick as quick as he can pull them, and then he’s pushing inside you again, seating himself where he belongs. 

He ruts deep, hips flush against yours with your arms wrapped around him, shaking legs pulling him as close as you can. His face buried in your neck as he finds that spot on your neck, and that spot inside you again. 

“That’s it, ain’t it?” he nods against your neck, smiles when he feels you nod with him, slipping into the morning bliss and the feeling of you around him, wet and warm. Your skin is heated, swapping warmth from him to you and back to him, passion and infatuation hanging in the air. 

Now, you both learn that you two love it like this as well, slow and deep on the kitchen counter, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating and bearing witness to love-making between two people learning to love each other. 

And when you come, and he does too, it’s with quiet moans and groans of each other’s name, his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist, and you, with your fingers curled in his hair, shivering at his touch.

Luckily, cold eggs don’t sound too bad.

— 

You make the ranch your home in no time. You have to go home for changes of clothes that day, but you’re back before sundown, decked out with some vinyls from your house to add to the collection. 

You fall into your own routine, getting up and making breakfast somedays, prepping sandwiches for lunch on the days Oj cooks breakfast. You really could just do anything for the rest of the day, but most of it is spent with Oj, learning more about the horses and helping him where you can, sappy little moments ever abundant. At night, he ends up buried inside you again, which is becoming his favorite place to be. And during the day too, if you’re being honest. You two fuck like rabbits.

It’s cozy, existing in the same space with him. He’s soft, kisses you every chance he gets, makes you food and fucks you good after. And he’s funny, his wit endearingly annoying at times, though he tries to pretend like he doesn’t know.

“Put that shit on.” Black fabric hits your face as you’re sat on the couch, and when you feel it you can tell it’s the satin of your bonnet.

“What the fuck, Oj.” You deadpan, though you know he’s right.

“You left that in bed last night. Them braids look new. Put it back on.” 

“So,” you start, raising up your hands so you can count on your fingers, “and I’m just tallying you up here, you can: cook, clean, you’re funny, you fuck amazing, you care about my hair, and on top of it all, you’re a real-life fucking cowboy?”

That draws a deep laugh straight out of his chest, his chuckles reverberating through the house, and through you, it feels. You laugh with him, feeling something like home sinking down into your bones. He makes his way to the kitchen, where he was on his way to before he spotted your bonnet on the bed.

“Yeah, I guess. And you went through the day without that on your head. So put it on.”

When you fuck on the counter a little after that, your bonnet is on.

–

The birth control / no condom conversation isn’t awkward at all, actually. It happens around two weeks after that first night.

With Oj’s cum leaking down your legs in the shower, his head resting in your neck, he finally says something.

“You on birth control?” he murmurs. “I been cumming inside you this whole time.” You can’t help but chuckle, breathless, still coming down.

“Yeah.” you nod.

“Thank god.” he responds.

He cooks you dinner that night, and kisses you every time he can.

—

It was inevitable, honestly, getting Oj between your legs. He’s tasted you on his fingers too many times to not want it from the source.

A morning spent in bed evolves into kisses, though everything with Oj means kisses. You’ve learned that Oj loves to kiss. 

He sucks and licks at your neck on the way down to where he wants to be, hiking his repurposed shirt up to your stomach to reveal your core, wet and waiting for him to have his fill.

You know what’s about to happen, but you still jolt in shock when he licks that first stripe up your folds. Someway and somehow, he knows where your clit is, swirling his greedy tongue around it, indulging in your arousal. 

“God, of course you’re good at this.” you moan, throwing your head back onto the pillows.

“Mhm.” he chuckles with an open mouth, tongue out and focused on your already sensitive clit. He bobs his head up and down, moving from your hole to your clit, always returning to the bundle of nerves that he’s so proficiently found and laid claim to.

He spreads you out with his thumbs, licks a fat stripe up from your entrance, sucking your clit into his mouth. You’re dumb now, stupid from pleasure and mind spinning with ecstacy. Sunlight streams through the windows, lights his pretty brown skin up, gives him a golden glow. It lights you up, too, gives him a better view of what you both know belongs to him already.

And you’re so close already. Three-ish weeks at the ranch has shown you it doesn’t take him long to get you high like this.

“Oj, ‘m gonna–”

“I know. Do it. Come for me.” He’s so sure in his words that you can’t help but follow them. You come, shaking and damn near crying on his tongue for the first time, and he swears you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

He makes you come with just his tongue two more times before you both start your day. You have to lay in bed for a while before you can even think about walking anywhere on your still-shaking legs.

–

“When’d you catch feelings for me?” you ask him in bed one night while you read and he lays beside you, thinking.

“I thought you were pretty when you first came. But I really got roped in seeing you in your element, taking pictures of the horses, even if you were nervous. The day we kissed the first time.”

“Good to know.” you nod. You don’t feel the need to say anything else. Sitting in silence with Oj is something you’re growing to love. 

–

You return the favor a couple days later. 

He’s gentle, letting you take your time and take him into your throat at your own pace.

It’s messy. Spit dripping out of your mouth and onto the ground in the stables. Depraved, cause you couldn’t wait to get him in the house. He chuckles breathlessly at your greed, the way you basically jumped him, pushed him against the wall murmuring “God, you’re so fine” before you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his jeans with ease.

“That’s it.” he groans, hands threading into your braids.

You bob your head up and down, wrap your hand around the base of him, giving him just a little pressure, just enough to have a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You don’t pull off when he tells you he’s about to come. You don’t give a fuck, truly. You want it all. And you take it all. 

You learn he’s the type to kiss you after he busts in your mouth.

–

Angel and Em come over a couple weeks after you move in. It doesn’t take them long to catch on to what you and Oj have going on.

“She’s yours?” Em motions to you with her vape as she steps into the house. Angel trails behind her, yapping on about aliens or some shit. 

You see Oj nod from the corner of your eye as Angel makes you his next victim, asking “Do you believe in aliens?” like you didn’t see the picture of Jean Jacket on the news. Oj watches in quiet fascination as you fall quickly into Angel’s rant, nodding and adding your own two cents every once in a while when Angel needs a second to breathe (which, rarely happens, unsurprisingly). 

The house gets loud pretty quickly, with Em quizzing you on who you are and if you’re any good for her brother in one ear and Angel going on tangent after tangent in the other. Oj’s content to just watch, to see you get loud with people who also enjoy being loud. He’s getting to know all the sides of you, learning the outgoing side he saw in the truck on your first date, learning the quiet side he sees on those music and lemonade nights, learning the soft side he sees when you two make love, learning the side of you that likes it rough and carnal, learning what makes you you.

After a while of talking and sipping lemonade with your copy of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album spinning, Oj joins Em in the kitchen. 

“She reeled you in, didn’t she.” Em questions with a smile, poking fun at her brother with the smooth notes of “Human Nature” filling the house.

“Yeah, she did.” he admits with a nod and a smile. “She something special.”

“I can tell. she got you smiling and shit. You ain’t smiled this much since before.. you know. And from talking to her it seem like she’s what you need.”

“She makes me happy. For real.” is all he says, and Emerald knows what he means without him having to say anything else. 

When Em and Angel leave for the night, you ask him one question, standing across from him in the kitchen, him leaning against the counter.

“I make you happy?” You ask.

“Hell yeah. You been making me happy since you came here that first day.” He hopes you believe him.

And you do. You can see a future with him. He sees one with you too. 

When you both fall asleep in each other’s arms, you’re content.

–

It’s hot as fuck. Like, hot. It’s been a month or so living on the ranch, so you’re growing accustomed to the heat. But shit.

Oj’s feeling the effects of the sun too, wiping sweat off his forehead every second it seems. You take a second to lean against the stables for just a moment, just enough to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asks when he sees you stop tending to Ghost. 

“Yeah.” you huff, fanning yourself. “It’s just hot as hell.”

You see him reach down to turn the hose on, and you pay him no mind. He’s just giving the horses some water.

Then you feel water hit you. 

“Oj.” you laugh, wiping your face off. 

“Yeah?” He feigns innocence. “I’m just tryna cool you off.” It’s sweet, really, his playfulness mixing with him caring for you, making sure you don’t pass the fuck out. 

It turns into a water fight, the hose making its way from your hands to his, wetting him up too.

Eventually, the hose is dropped on the ground, spraying water up over you two while you kiss, laughing in between.

–

It’s not all love-making with Oj, though, not all sappy moments and heartfelt confessions. Oj knows how to break you just the way you like.

Over the months he’s learned you like it face down in the pillows sometimes, his hips snapping strong and determined into you, cock pressed right up against that spot. He’s learned you like when controls you, when he takes the reins.

“You can take it, beautiful. You got that shit.” You sob into the pillow, writhe and thrash in his grasp as he tightens his hand around your wrists, pushes them closer to your back where he has them pulled behind you. 

“You feel me deep, don’t you? Feel me deep in this pussy, my pussy.” You couldn’t form words even if you were able to. He knows this, knows his voice, his accent, his drawl all get you that much wetter. “Its mine, hm?” he knows all of you belongs to him. All of you, down to your soul, belongs to him.

“Yours.” you choke out, tell him what he knows already. He makes you come so many times that night, you just barely pass out. 

–

Things go so easy. It’s so easy to love Oj and it’s so easy for him to love you.

The first time he says it is completely on purpose, about 6 months after that first date, and 5 months after you moved in.

It’s a night that goes like many of yalls nights, sipping lemonade and spinning records. The conversation is meaningless, but meaningful because it’s with you. And then things get silent, and it gives Oj a moment to lay in what he has with you. The words make perfect sense when they roll from his lips.

“I love you.” His eyes are trained on yours.

“I love you too.” You’re sure about it. You’ve loved him for a long time.

And that’s the end of it. It isn’t a big deal, because you both knew what it was you were feeling before you even felt the urge to put words to it. 

You love him. And he loves you too.

– 

It’s funny how a quick visit to see some horses could evolve into this.

Moving onto the ranch, making love whenever you both please, letting Oj break you the way you love and he loves too. Kisses and I love you’s shared, horse rides and lemonade and dates in his truck, with and without music playing. Compliments on your hairstyles and reminding you to wear your bonnet, late night runs to the nearest store, dates at Jupe’s Claim. Water fights on days when it gets wayyy too hot. Nights spent listening to music and talking about the most mundane of things, eyes and lips always landing on your lover. 

He eventually tells you exactly how Pops died. How that shit fucked up him up bad. But he makes sure you know he’s grateful for you, thanks whoever’s listening that you walked into his laugh with a love for something he loved too and shy ass smile.

“You make me happy in a way I aint felt in a long time.” he tells you in bed between kisses one night with you wrapped up in his arms. You’re glad you could do that for him.

“You make me feel safe. You make me feel seen.” He’s glad he could do that for you. 

Funny how one meeting could spawn all this

[dixieforsmash]

Full color pictures of the Kongs from Super Nintendo World, whose Donkey Kong Country expansion opened today. Extracted from a video linked to at the park (via QR code): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZyOk7zRkJs&t=0s You can also hear Cranky's new theme song.

[evangelinesbible]

THE ASTROLOGICAL FAME OF …

MICHAEL JACKSON

SAGITTARIUS MC

No matter your 10H sign, the 10H still rules Fame. And the most success you’ll find in career is when you embrace your 10H. Having a Sagittarius 10H makes you a person who wants a career that involves expansion and change. You’ll want to do something in this life that opens up not only your mind but others. That’s why most prefer jobs that involve teaching or philosophy. Sagittarius rules over travel as well so these people make their abundant income best when they get to travel the world. Even though Michael didn’t like to tour much he made millions off of touring alone. He was a world wide phenomenon and he used his music to spread messages to the whole world. For example, “Black and White” or “They don’t really care about us”. Michael was also known for his generosity and huge charitable donations. Donating over 500 million dollars to charities.

SATURN CONJ. MC

Michael has been famous since he was a child. Saturn rules longevity and even after death Michael is still extremely well liked and a famous name known worldwide. This placement also explains the amount of work his father put in him to be famous. This placement also explains all the very public challenges and hardships he faced.

MC RULER 8H JUPITER

Having his MC ruler in the 8H also gives him a long lasting career since the 8H also rules longevity. Michael was also very controversial whilst also being extremely liked at the same time. He was known in the public eye embrace and insist change. He was a pioneer, Being the first black man to have his video Billie Jean play on MTV, having an MTV award named after him,having a statue built in his honor, winning multiple Grammies, and being named the king of pop whilst also inspiring artists we know today like Beyoncé. He was also known for his wealth and investments. Having some of the most expensive music videos ever, a theme park in his backyard, and a very expensive wardrobe.

JUPITER CONJ. NEPTUNE

This is a great aspect for music fame. Neptune rules over glamor and melodies whilst Jupiter rules over abundance and popularity. Having them be aspected gives Michael a lot of luck and popularity in the Music Industry. He also made a fortune off of music as well.

LEO, PISCES AND SAGITTARIUS PLACEMENTS

I have two posts about underrated fame indicators and basically Neptune/ Jupiter influence is very important for fame. Michael not only has a Leo stellium but he also has Neptune (Pisces Rising and Moon) and Jupiter influence (Sagittarius MC, and Jupiter conj. Neptune) with this ultimate combo he was destined to not only be popular but an enigma as well.

SUN CONJ. PLUTO

Aspects to sun are import when looking at fame. Michael has his Sun conj. Pluto which makes so much sense when you look at how much power he had in the music industry. He was extremely magnetic, has sexual charm, and gained a lot of attention for not only being mysterious but very powerful as well.

LEO FAMA

Naturally having Fama in Leo can make someone gain fame at little easer than others. Since Leo can rule over entertainment naturally having Fama in the sign can make someone especially famous in any form of entertainment. Also Michael has it at 8 degrees. Typically if you have Fama in a Scorpio degree your fame might come with a lot of intense obsession and you’ll be extremely controversial. People might hate you because they believe you’re evil, taboo or think you’re a dark and messed up person.

GEMINI STARR

Michael was a Star known for speaking up about anything and everything that was on his mind. He wasn’t just a singer but also a writer. He was known to put his personal beliefs in not only his music but his music videos as well. Michael was also talked about and gossiped about ALOT. Whether truthful or not he was in multiple headlines in magazines and newspapers everywhere. It’s also apparent that his Starr is at 28°, which is the household name degree.

LEO APOLLO CONJ. SUN/ PLUTO

People with Apollo prominent have natural talents and gifts that give them a special type of attention/spotlight and praise Having Apollo in Leo can make someone extremely magnetic, popular, and even worshiped in the field of entertainment. Apollo conj. Sun makes someone extremely popular no matter what they do. Especially when it comes to whatever talent they might hone into. It always seems like the attention gravitates towards them because of how much they shine. Having it conjunct Pluto will make someone naturally shine in powerful and mysterious ways. It’ll also amp up the obsession people will have over you. Pluto also rules transformation and to say Michael had a few would be an understatement. Music wise and physically he transformed. He also transformed the industry. These placements help explain why he was deemed the King of Pop. And he still is.

That was the astrological fame of Michael Jackson 💋

- ⚜️💫⚜️

[ralfmaximus]

Heroes & main characters get hurt a lot in SF/action shows.

Bonked on the head to make them unconscious, hit with phasers set on stun, knocked out during a terrible vehicle crash at the end of a chase scene.

And next episode? They're fine. No TBI. No lasting effects. No trouble remembering things, no personality shifts, no anxiety about getting hurt again, phasered again. I mean a Star Trek phaser is like getting tasered, right? Same idea.

The Stargate series, like Trek, routinely transmogrifies its characters into monsters, uploads them into computers, swaps bodies, ages them into geriatrics or children, duplicates them, converts them into energy and back again thousands of times. With no lasting effect. Without extended recovery or rehabilitation.

Hell, they rarely even talk about it. Me, I still talk about the time I fell at a theme park and hurt my leg so badly I thought it might be broken. I limped for weeks, avoided stairs, watched my leg turn various shades of purple & green. And that was not nearly as interesting as having my DNA rewritten by The Ancients.

You know who gets it right though?

The Expanse.

Early in the series Holden & Miller receive a lethal dose of radiation, equivalent to watching a nuclear detonation way too closely. And very realistically, they soon start exhibiting the signs of severe radiation sickness: malaise, vomiting, whole body pain.

But because it is hundreds of years in the future, medical technology has advanced to the point that they are saved. Their radiation sickness is cured!

If this was Star Trek or Stargate, nobody would show any ill effects afterwards. Next episode they'd be 100% normal, and any future callbacks would be a throwaway line and possibly a joke.

Not in The Expanse. Here, our characters are shown to suffer the aftereffects of their ordeal. They have permanent subcutaneous ports installed in their arms so they can continue to receive medicine for the rest of their lives. Because as miraculous as 23rd century medicine may be, they cannot cure radiation damage. They can only treat it.

And if our characters fail to get their treatments? They suffer for it. They'll eventually die from it. And the show revisits that theme and never lets us forget it, because those ports are visible whenever our characters are seen without sleeves.

I was just thinking about this after watching the episode of Stargate Atlantis where Sheppard literally gets turned into a man-sized insect then at the end of the show he's shown completely healed. Ha ha, I was a bug. How wacky is that?

If that happened to me I'd never stop screaming.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Prompt: Tommy invites a very excited baby bi Buck to his queer book club. 🌈

send me headcanons and microfic prompts

Queer Book Club

Tommy had known Evan was a reader.

There were piles of books littered around Evan's loft. Recently published books with spines newly cracked; old, tattered books the size of a hand, made to fit in a large pocket with their covers falling off and their glue barely holding the pages together; books from take a book, leave a book little libraries at national parks and novels from a book fair that happened recently over on a college campus nearby; books owned by Evan and books Evan always returned early to the local library.

Tommy had an inkling that Evan might enjoy the queer book club he was part of with Karen, Hen, and Josh, especially since Evan had spoken of an affinity for novels made by the Bronte Sisters and Austen. His eyes seemed to light up when Tommy explained that their next meeting would be about two adaptations: Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa and Escaping Mr. Rochester by L.L. McKinney.

"I hope I'm prepared enough," Evan had nervously whispered when he got into Tommy's car.

At the next red light, Tommy glanced over and could see Evan fidgeting and flipping through the pages. There were color-coded highlights and notes in every single margin; about themes, motifs, symbolism, the expansion of the idea of the original through this new lens of the story.

Tommy could tell Evan that this was mostly an excuse to read queer romances and drink craft beer together with some friends.

But Tommy didn't have the heart for that.

"You're impossibly prepared," Tommy almost gushed - okay, maybe completely gushed, smiling at his boyfriend.

The most adorable dork in the world.

"You think so?" asked Evan, relaxing a bit.

Tommy leaned over and gave Evan a quick kiss before the light turned green.

"Oh, I know so," said Tommy, making it his mission to listen to Evan's entire infodump about each novel tonight.

Because he adored it when his boyfriend was this excited about something.

[court-jastor]

Ever wanted to see the glowing waters of Yios? How about the extraordinary Cerulean Palace? The perilous Malleus Key? Get wonderful views of these iconic sights and more at CRLand's new Marquet expansion!

Marquet as seen through the lens of an old theme park poster for CR Land for @artists-guild-of-exandria 's CRLand Project!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 & 38 💕

Thank you, friend 💕 This prompt took my face in its hands and whispered, "Drunken late-night bus ride."

3) SHIP: Cressida x Eloise

38) SCANDAL: public drunkenness!

more Bridgerton-themed fic prompts

Happy Times We Had (And Yet the Times Were Sad)

Pairing: Cressida x Eloise Rating: M Word Count: 1729

Summary: Drunk on champagne and shining like two falling stars, Eloise and Cressida take the bus.

They rushed onto the bus, out of breath, and Eloise hoped it was the right bus. The lit-up number over the windscreen had seemed right as they’d dashed down the sidewalk, but it was only a blur in her memory as she snapped open her clutch and poked around for their fare.

The driver pitched the bus forward, which Eloise supposed was as much a mark of trust as a completely arseholish thing to do; he was assuming she could pay. The bus swung away from the curb to avoid a parked car and Cressida wrapped her arms around Eloise’s waist from behind, the pair of them swaying together. As soon as Eloise got their fares sorted, she took Cressida by the hand and led her, wobbling, down the aisle, collapsing into a pair of seats across from the rear door. She fumbled out an error-riddled text to Benedict, saying they were on their way home.

The pair of them glittered in their evening finery—dresses with little straps that crisscrossed their backs and sparkling eyeshadow fallout under their eyes. Their insobriety made the effect all the prettier. Eloise grinned lazily as she stared at Cressida, whose head rested back against the window, headlights and neon lights and stoplights sliding past outside, her perpetually too-tight blonde hair tugged loose to drape, like a third drunk, over her shoulder.

“D’you think he’ll be angry at me?” Cressida asked.

Eloise twisted until the pointy toes of their high heels knocked together. The large sequins on Cressida’s skirt would leave impressions in Eloise’s bare knees as she pressed against her.

“Who?”

Cressida sulked.

“My father.”

“Oh yes. Well,” Eloise reflected, patting her friend’s hand, “you did call him a pompous, uptight bastard. And you gave him the ol’ ‘fuck you’ gesture when we were on our way out.”

Cressida slumped a little in her seat, tilting her head.

“But d’you think he’ll be mad?”

“I think…” Eloise said slowly, because the thought was still forming and because she was drunk. “I think, if your father sat down with himself—”

“Mhmm.”

“—and really got to—got to know himself—”

“Mhmm.”

“—that maybe he would maybe see tha’ he is a pompous, uptight bastard,” Eloise concluded.

Cressida’s head swung loosely from side to side.

“That is never going to happen.”

“No, it doesn’ seem likely,” Eloise agreed. “Maybe if you hadn’ said it in front of all of ‘respectable society.’” Her air quotes were expansive.

“‘Respectable society’ can kiss my ‘Daisy by Marc Jacobs’-scented arse,” Cressida declared, yanking her shoes off and dropping them onto the floor of the bus.

Eloise laughed richly, leaning her head on Cressida’s shoulder. After a minute, she sighed. She could feel Cressida breathing. Turning her face just a little, Eloise inhaled. She could smell Cressida’s perfume, mixed with champagne sweetness and, gradually, the lingering scent of smoke that clung to Eloise, courtesy of the cigarette she’d smoked in the restaurant bathroom before they’d made their escape.

“You smell really nice,” Eloise observed.

“Thanks.”

The word sounded wet, so Eloise raised her head, and saw that Cressida was silently weeping. Eloise’s mouth fell open in panic. She was not good at this: emotion. She had never been a natural at comforting others, never the right-shaped shoulder to cry on. Her younger siblings had always gone to their mother for solace—failing that, to Daphne or Benedict (to be fair, so had Eloise). In this moment, with Cressida’s fat tears washing her bottom row of eyelashes of mascara, leaving them pale and clustered and vulnerable to the world, Eloise had never wanted to help so badly.

She touched Cressida’s cheek and gently shushed her, but it was obvious that Cressida was a deadly combination of too overwhelmed and too intoxicated to stop crying that easily.

“I’ve totally fucked my life,” Cressida sobbed.

And Eloise said, “No. No. No,” in various sympathetic tones, meaning each repetition with her whole heart.

“They’ll send me away!”

“They can’t. You’re not some child in boarding school, you’re at uni.”

But Cressida was shaking her head, adamant.

“They’ll send me away. They’ll make me live in Denmark. I got too good at Danish. I never should’ve declared a minor, but my father said a language would be good for—good for my business degree,” she wailed.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Eloise thought fast. “I’m going to hide you in my closet.” This thought had indeed come to her fast, but was perhaps not sound.

Cressida sniffed.

“In your closet?”

“Uh huh. I’ll protect you.”

Although her face was streaked with tears that glimmered pink and gold, Cressida smiled. She pulled Eloise’s hand onto her lap and held it.

“You sound about four years old,” she said.

Eloise smiled back and reached out to trace the shape of Cressida’s chin with her fingers.

“I dunno about that, but I think I’d melt if you called me ‘baby.’”

The bus rolled jarringly over a pothole, nearly flinging Eloise from her seat. She gripped the nearest pole and swiveled her head to look out the window. Well done, she thought to herself. Right bus after all.

“C’mon,” she said. “Le’s get off at the next one.”

She told Cressida not to forget her shoes, and they hobbled off with all the grace with which they’d made their ascent. The bus puffed hot air and pulled away. Cressida squinted at the buildings they faced from the sidewalk. Her heels dangled from her hand, her fingers hooked through the straps.

“Is this right?”

Eloise grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to look across the street.

“Oh. I know where we are,” Cressida announced. “You are protecting me.”

But Eloise felt a bit embarrassed about that, and the other thing she’d said, now that they were out in the warm evening air and the bus wasn’t lurching them along. They darted across the road. It wasn’t until they were on the other side, not a ten-minute walk from both of their houses, that she looked Cressida in the eye—and this was because Cressida grabbed her hand to stop her.

“This would all be awful without you,” she said.

Just for Eloise, there were streetlights like angels’ eyes that made Cressida’s hair glow and her dress shimmer and her eyes shine above the muck of her cried-off mascara, and the way she watched her was divinely tender and fearful, both.

Eloise kissed Cressida on the cheek; she wasn’t so tall without her shoes on, with her hair down. Eloise breathed her in, then stepped back.

Cressida wore an alarmed, animal expression, like something not used to human touch. But then she dropped her shoes—Eloise heard the clatter—and sunk her fingers into Eloise’s tangled hair. Eloise was breathing fast, but Cressida just leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. Eloise’s eyes crossed as she watched Cressida’s close.

“Don’ go,” Cressida murmured.

“I-I’m not.”

Eloise was ashamed of the stammer, thinking she was making too much of this. She was always making too much of things, but this was worse than usual because it would hurt more. She’d thought, someplace between the restaurant and here, that it was time. She had misunderstood; Cressida was only drunk and morose, lonely and needy. Maybe she did see how Eloise needed her (it was different) and she was playing on that. She used to be that sort of mean girl. Eloise didn’t want to think her friend capable of such a personal cruelty though. She just doesn’t understand, Eloise told herself, staring at Cressida’s blurry, too-close face. She won’t feel me wrapped around her finger until I start cutting off her circulation.

“Don’ go,” she was still mumbling, shaking her head, their foreheads rubbing.

Somehow, Eloise’s heart felt heavier in pieces than it had a moment ago, whole. But she wouldn’t go. She couldn’t. Cressida meant too much to her. They were each other’s life raft in all this society bullshit and parental expectation. Anyway, she wasn’t about to leave her friend standing drunk and barefoot on the sidewalk.

Gentle, Eloise reached up to pull Cressida’s hands from her hair. Without warning, Cressida thrust her face forward and kissed Eloise on the mouth. Eloise blinked.

Now it would hurt, and this hurt would scar—when she had to maternally tuck Cressida’s hair behind her ears and say, That’s enough now, Cress. But before she could speak, Cressida said, “Baby.”

“What?” Eloise’s voice sounded choked.

And Cressida’s fingertips trailed up and down the sides of Eloise’s neck, and she traced the pendant that hung against her throat, and she pressed their faces together, and she said, “Baby,” and she kissed Eloise again.

Eloise kissed her back, sloppy and yearning, cataclysmic and sweet. Cressida wasn’t someone she could kiss and laugh about it the next day. She couldn’t enjoy these benefits and keep being just-friends. She couldn’t hook up with Cressida, have a fling with Cressida, eat Cressida out on a pristine bench in a private park after dark because her dad was the worst and she was somehow even prettier with swirls of cried-off makeup making her cheeks look like candy-coloured Italian marble. Eloise couldn’t do this and recover, but she did it. How could she not? She did it and she led Cressida through the gate of the private park with their fingers linked, and Eloise laid her back on the pristine bench and crouched to give her head while Cressida named all the constellations she could see, getting all of them wrong. Eloise did it, gambling that it wouldn’t seem ugly when they were sober. She did it, remembering the pressure of Cressida’s arms around her waist while she paid for the bus. How, how, how could she not?

And then Cressida curled into Eloise’s side and said, “You’re the only one who matters.”

And Eloise combed her fingers through that long blonde hair and said, “That isn’t true.”

And it could’ve ended there, but Cressida went to Eloise’s home because her house wasn’t one, and slept in a guest room, and, half-awake, lifted the sheet for Eloise when she turned up later on, a way to beckon her in because she was dithering in the doorway. They slept deeply.

Eloise, who had appointed herself protector, woke up to feel Cressida wrapped around her from behind.