#this is worse than the folgers commercial

[incesthemes]

so sam got a necklace for john for christmas when he was a kid, dad "lied to him" and didn't show up, so he gave the necklace to dean instead and dean still to this day like 15 years later wears that fucking necklace every single day and cherishes it enough to angrily take it back from the shapeshifter after it was stolen, and you're trying to tell me there's no incest in supernatural? okay

[lostinfic]

Fic: Winter happens, like a secret

Cesare x Lucrezia | Rated E | 3k words

Summary: Cesare has been gone for many weeks, fighting in the Romagna after the Sforza’s downfall, but one snowy Christmas Eve, he returns home to Lucrezia. Has she forgiven him for killing Alfonso?

The box was wrapped in a handkerchief, tied together with a velvet ribbon. Rather than look inside the box, she unravelled the red ribbon and slipped it around her brother’s neck. He chuckled. “What are you doing?” “You are my present this year,” she said. She pulled on the ribbon lightly, coaxing him closer though he could easily resist it if he so wished. He didn’t resist.

Loosely based on the infamous Folgers commercial, but set in Renaissance-era Italy.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut ↓

Lucrezia woke up in the middle of the night, her light slumber disturbed by a change in the luminosity beyond her eyelids. The night sky seemed aglow behind the curtains. The fire had faded down to embers, and warmth had seeped out of the room. She slipped on a red, fur-lined robe and went to the window. Outside, snowflakes drifted down from the sky, draping the garden in white. It was so bright, moonlight seemed to emanate from the ground itself.  

She laughed, delighted by the snow, though the feeling in her heart was closer to melancholy than joy. 

Tiptoeing down the stairs, she made her way to the kitchen. The cook and servants had been hard at work preparing food for tomorrow’s Vigila di Natale feast. Lucrezia filled a pot with water, added mint, honey, orange peels, ginger and tea leaves to it, then hung it above the fire in the hearth. Djem had introduced her to tea, and she was pleased to find some Asian ships, trading in the port of Naples, carried the leaves even though few locals drank it. She stirred the simmering water with a wooden spoon, and delicious aromas rose from the pot. She could have woken up a maid to make it, but she wanted to be alone. Admiring the falling snow through the frosted window, she warmed her hands on the earthenware cup and sipped her tea. 

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Cesare.

Lucrezia had spent the Novena— the nine days before Christmas— reflecting on the Bible, singing carols and praying in St. Peter’s. The Pope had commissioned a splendid Nativity scene, and boughs of evergreen perfumed the space with their scent so deeply associated with Christmas. The populace filled the basilica with joyous hymns and brightly coloured attires, unlike Lucrezia who wore her widow’s blacks and whose heart was too heavy to be lifted by music. Six months had passed since Alfonso’s death, regrets rather than grief filled her heart now. Soon, her father would seek to marry her off again. Though who would take her, when rumours of Cesare’s hand in murdering Alfonso circulated around Rome which in turn reignited the gossip of an incestuous relationship. Had anyone heard the prayers she whispered in her mind, it would only have added fuel to the fire: she prayed to rid herself of this sinful desire for her brother, prayed to hate him, but in the same second, she prayed for his safety, his return and his eternal love. She promised God a life of holy devotion yet longed for her brother’s presence and dreamt of his lips at her neck. 

Cesare had been gone for months now, on some mission for the Holy Father— punishment for killing Alfonso and ruining their shaky alliance with Naples. Since capturing Caterina Sforza and killing her son and both her cousins, he had made many enemies. Yet he still pursued control over the Romagna. She and her parents hadn’t heard of him in a long time. And it seemed to Lucrezia that half her mind and heart were with him, somewhere beyond Rome. She willed each of her breaths to fill his lungs and each beat of her heart to push blood through his veins. In her darkest moments, she worried he had died, or worse, travelled back to France, to spend the holidays with his new family.  

Still, she had made garlands of dried citrus slices to hang around the house and infuse her gloomy mood with merriment, for Giovanni’s sake. The scent of lemon and firewood filled their home. Cousin Adriana would arrive soon with her family, as well as cousins from Spain, seeking some favour from the Pope, no doubt. Would she be able to keep a smile on until Epiphany? 

Lucrezia sighed. She’d drank half her tea without savouring it. Snow fell in big, fluffy clumps now. 

A man on horseback came through the gates. The horse’s clip-clopping disturbed the silent night, and hoofprints marred the pristine snow. Fear clutched her guts— at this hour, he could only bring bad news. Sweat beaded down her spine as she imagined he would tell her Cesare had died. 

The man appeared in no hurry to deliver the news. He stopped in the middle of the courtyard and waited for the stable boy to stumble out. She recognized the familiar grace with which he jumped off his horse, but she dared not hope. At last, the man lowered his hood and looked up in the direction of her bedroom window. Moonlight highlighted dark curls, stubbled cheeks and green eyes. Her heart leapt in her chest. 

Lucrezia rushed towards the kitchen door and yanked it open just as he was reaching it. 

��Cesare!” his name came out with a cloud on her breath. 

She jumped in his arms, and he caught her as he had so many times before. His cold nose tip pressed against her neck and sent a shiver through her. The snowflakes dusting his hair melted against her flushed cheeks. Her other half was back, and her whole body sang with relief. 

Holding her up, he carried her in, kicking the door close behind them with his foot. He murmured her name and sagged against her, tension released from his shoulders. 

“Why are you slipping in during the night like a phantom?”  

She kept her voice down. She should have woken up her mother who worried about Cesare too, but she wanted a moment alone with her dear brother. 

“I could not wait any longer,” he said. 

He slipped his hands under her dressing gown. However, the minute his frozen fingertips met her waist, she squirmed away with a squeal. He laughed at her reaction.  

She loved his laughter, she had missed it. The way it came out of his throat in a burst of giggles, more high-pitched than expected, and how he would try to contain it, pressing his lips together but a smile always remained, like a mischievous kid.  

Lucrezia took his large hands and rubbed them between her small palms, blowing warm breath on his fingers.  

“I have missed those hands,” she said. 

“And I have missed that face.” 

They took comfort in repeating those words they had said years ago, as if they could have their innocence back. In that moment, they could pretend their relationship had not changed, that despite sharing a bed and killing Juan and Alfonso, they were the same boy and girl who had once reunited in a deserted Apolostic palace. 

He kissed her hands, though with some restraint. His hasty departure, not long after Alfonso’s death, had left some things unresolved between them.   

“I’m starving,” he announced. 

Lucrezia lit a candle as he surveyed the food laid out in the kitchen.  

“Ah, good food, at last,” he said, picking candied fruits and chestnuts from a silver plate. 

She pushed his hand away. “It’s for the feast tonight.” 

With a cheeky grin, he popped a few honey-coated pistachios in his mouth. She offered him some tea which he sipped gratefully. The stone floor was cold under her feet, so she hopped up on the wooden counter, pushing aside a bouquet of dried rosemary. As he drank and warmed himself, he kept stealing glances at her, studying her reaction to his return. 

To be honest, Lucrezia was ambivalent. Though she was beyond happy to see him safe and home, of that there was no doubt, she questioned what form their relationship would take now. She knew what her body craved, what her heart hoped, but her rational mind cautioned her against it.  

“I brought you something, sis, from far away.” 

He should have waited until the 25th, but he never could restrain himself when he had an opportunity to cheer her up. And this proof that he had been thinking about her while he was away could only bring a smile to her lips. 

The box was wrapped in a handkerchief, tied together with a length of velvet ribbon. Rather than look inside the box, she unravelled the red ribbon and slipped it around her brother’s neck. 

He chuckled. “What are you doing?” 

“You are my present this year,” she said. 

She pulled lightly on both ends of the ribbon, coaxing him closer, though he could easily resist if he so wished— he didn’t resist. He stepped closer, leaning on his hands, placed each side of her knees. Sitting up on the counter, she was almost the same height as him. Suddenly serious, they looked into each other’s eyes, and she knew all too well these moments of tense silence in which one of them had to do the right thing. Neither of them looked away. She held onto the ribbon, and he stared at her, steadfast, intense. Anticipation made warmth pool low in her stomach. 

She had tried taking a lover, but quickly grew bored of the affair. Cesare had ruined her for other men, it seemed— and wouldn’t he like to know that. 

“You were my present too,” he said, in a low voice. “The day Mother put you in my arms, I had never held anything so precious.” He touched the ends of her loose blond waves as if it were spun gold. “I knew, even as a boy, that I would do anything to protect you…” 

She realized then, this was about Alfonso. 

“Do you forgive me?” he asked. 

“We are Borgias, brother, we never forgive.”  

He squeezed his eyes shut, pained to hear those words as much as she was to have voiced them. 

“And so, I cannot forgive even myself,” she continued, finally saying aloud the thoughts that had plagued her but which she could not share with anyone, “for I also am to blame for my husband’s death.” 

Cesare rested his forehead against hers, shaking his head in disagreement. She ran her fingers through his hair and gripped a fistful of curls. 

“It is the truth,” she said. 

“It was my fault. I wielded the blade and I—” 

“Yes, you wielded the blade,” Lucrezia said, working open his leather doublet, stiff with cold, “but I wield your heart.” She slipped her hands inside, spreading them over his chest. “As you do mine.”  

Under her palms, his heart was beating so fast it threatened to escape his ribcage. He could not deny the truth of her words.  

“Peace, brother,” she murmured soothingly, caressing his chest. His skin was damp under the leather. 

He rubbed his nose against hers, slowly, eyes closed, with none of the usual playfulness. He didn’t try to kiss her but neither did he step away. She tasted his honey-sweet sigh across her mouth. 

“Lucrezia,” he whispered her name with such adoration, but tainted with pain and reluctance. 

Why try to resist the inevitable? Was there virtue in a half-hearted effort? 

“Make me yours again.” 

His chest rumbled with something like a growl.  

When she brushed her lips against his, he captured her mouth. He kissed her deeply, hands tightening in the heavy fabric of her robe.  

Though she had not forgiven him in words, it was a kiss of absolution. Ardent and tender and so full of love, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

She loved him, always, in spite of everything. He had made her that way, with his gentleness and indulgence, with his jealousy and adoring gaze. She could not even hold it against him. She had blossomed in his light and always would seek it. Nothing else would do. No one else would do.  

They broke the kiss well before they’d had their fill. 

Cesare searched her face for a sign of reluctance or regret, but he found the opposite. There was still time for one of them to pull away— usually Cesare. Instead, his hand slid up her back, along her spine, to cup the nape of her neck. That touch always filled her with such a delicious haze. Even back when she was too innocent to understand what it kindled in her, she sought it, luxuriated in it. And just like that, God was sitting in the room with them again. Her chest swelled with elation and the top of her head tingled from a shower of invisible, yet tangible light which descended upon them, shielded them. And the silence, only broken by the crackling fire, became almost musical. 

She touched Cesare’s chin, and he smiled. 

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered before kissing her again. 

She parted her lips for him, welcomed his tongue, and spread her legs. 

Hips cradled between her thighs, he assailed her neck with ravenous kisses. In his hunger, he nearly ripped open her shift. Her dressing gown slipped from her shoulders. Her short nails raked down his abdomen, towards his belt.  

The cold draught in the room was no match for the fever overtaking them. She made quick work of his codpiece, and he tugged her to the edge of the counter.  

He pushed her shift up her thighs and, for a moment, seemed lost in the softness of her skin and marvelled at how small she was next to him.  

Slipping her hand inside his pants, Lucrezia spurred him back into action. He bucked his hips into her palm with a ragged moan and found her wet and wanting under her bedclothes.  

Cesare sought her gaze then entered her in one long, luxurious thrust. Pleasure knocked the breath from their lungs as they clung to each other.  

She used to think time and longing had embellished her memory of their lovemaking. Surely, it could not have been as amazing as she made it out to be in her mind. But it was. A miracle. Rapture. She could not doubt they were two halves of the same whole, meant to be together lest they withered apart. 

Already pleasure made her toes curl and her core clench with each thrust. 

“Oh, God!” she moaned, throwing her head back. 

“I don’t think God wants anything to do with this,” he joked. 

“Then he should not have made you so well-endowed.” 

He grinned, and she kissed him, wanting to taste his joy, to take it inside herself. 

Laughter and sighs of pleasure mingled as they moved together. 

Anyone could have walked in on them, embracing passionately in the kitchen, but they were too far gone to care. 

-

Out of breath and utterly satisfied, Lucrezia slumped down on the counter, “Happy Christmas,” she said.  

He smiled, gazing down at her, admiring her body where her shift clung to her sweat-damp skin. The ribbon still hung around his neck, and she used it to pull him down to her for a kiss. 

“I think I’d better not let you get used to having me on a leash,” he said as if that had not already been the case for years. 

He removed the ribbon from his neck and tied it in a bow around hers. 

“Beautiful,” he said. 

He was still in her, half-hard, her legs locked around his hips. There was a risk, she knew, that she might become pregnant. Would the Pope believe it was another Immaculate Conception if she said so? The thought amused her rather than scare her. 

After gathering food and wine, they headed upstairs to her bedroom. 

Cesare put another log in the fireplace and stirred the embers. He spared a moment to check on his godson, sleeping in the adjoining room. 

“Giovanni asked for you yesterday,” she said. 

“Perhaps that’s why I was in such a hurry to come back and rode through the night.” 

“Or is there another reason, perhaps?” 

She tilted her head with an impish smile. 

He hooked a finger under the ribbon at her throat and brought her lips to his. His kiss warmed her to her toes. 

“Will La Befana bring your son sweets or coal?” he asked. 

“Sweets, of course. He’s a angel.” She smiled proudly. 

“And tell me, my love, what will she bring me?” 

“We shall make our own sweetness, Cesare.” 

She picked a sweet from a plate and fed it to him. He sucked the sugar from her fingertips and peppered kisses down her wrist. In one swoop, he picked her up and carried her to bed. 

They cuddled under the covers, and talked of nothing important until the room was warm enough they could undress completely. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, they reaffirmed their bond and commitment to each other. 

It was one of the longest nights of the year, but the sun seemed to dawdle beyond the horizon just for them. 

In the morning, he would pretend his room was too cold without a fire or that he’d lost his way in the dark palazzo after weeks away. Outside, snow still blanketed Rome, it would melt in the daylight, but for now, it protected them with its silence and purity. 

[triviareads]

I'm posting this one a little sooner than the end of the month because I'm off to the west coast for the holidays and most of these books are Christmas or New Year's-themed!

Mafia Virgin by Mila Finelli

The final installation of Mila's Kings of Italy series came out last week, and here is my review (and here are my excess notes). SPEAKING of Mila Finelli—

Fausto and Frankie Bonus Scene by Mila Finelli

If you would like some warm, mafia Christmas goodness with a side of chasing, Mila Finelli wrote a (free!) bonus scene set after Mafia Darling that I've linked above. It features gems such as Frankie fucking around with calling Fausto an old man repeatedly and finding out (which, to be clear, was her end goal), Fausto pondering on whether to tell the number of men he's killed with an axe when Frankie questions his ability to chop down a Christmas tree, and a visit from (then-failson mafioso, but forever a fave) Giulio.

Duke the Halls by Felicity Niven

The thing about Felicity Niven's historical romances is that they all start off relatively light, humorous even, but you inevitably find yourself swiping away tears as you read through the last few chapters. Duke the Halls is about a grumpy neurodivergent duke who finds himself enamored with a ladies companion he meets in a stagecoach. I adore Franny; she's earnest and upbeat and the very embodiment of holiday spirit without being naive (she's also a bit of a neologist). Kit, the duke, is more of an acquired taste but it's hilarious to read how gone he is for this woman right off the bat— to the point where he wishes he were a worse kisser so she could "practice" with him more, he admits he actually kinda does suck at sex, and nearly crashes a carriage when she agrees to sleep with him. God bless him. Felicity Niven doesn't shy away from going off the beaten path with her sex scenes; expressions of pleasure are never sanitized and they always feel real and honest.

My Present This Year by Sierra Simone

Sierra Simone unironically wrote a (step!) sibling romance some years ago (linked above— it's free!), inspired by that 2009 Folger's coffee commercial called "Coming Home". You know the one. Upon reread, Nick is is kind of giving "early version Tristan Thomas from Sierra's Lyonesse Trilogy" vibes. It also has all the hallmarks of a Sierra Simone romance: tragic pining-induced celibacy, there's a nickname with "little" in the beginning, someone is a biter, the lines "I want to be a good stepbrother" are uttered...

Her Virgin Duke by Nicola Davidson

If you're in the mood for a Christmas-themed romance ft. virgin dukes who learn to fuck shockingly fast (wow sex lessons seems to be the theme of these holiday romances), then this is the novella for you! The Duke of Tunbury aka Humdrum Tun is a virgin who doesn't even masturbate until he he meets brothel madam Delilah on a bet, and within days the man's basically an animal in the sack. His learning curve is only matched by that of Beck's from The Major's Welcome Home by Tessa Bailey and Nick Gentry's from Worth Any Price by Lisa Kleypas.

Size Doesn't Matter by Jennie Kew

Sophie is a famous plus-sized model who unwittingly hooks up with her ex(ish)'s younger brother Jack on New Year's Eve, and when she finds out, she's Not Happy. Jennie Kew is a solid erotic romance writer who writes a lot of books with kink, and I've loved nearly even book she's written in her Bennett's Bastards series. This is probably one of the softer books in her series, both tone and sex-wise, but I love how she wrote Sophie being both bigger and taller, and she's in her thirties, but she's still very much a brat sexually— I feel like a lot of authors equate this with dainty little girls— and Jack clocks this right off the bat and is very much here for it. This book also features one of my much-loved tropes often found in Harlequins.... :D

[folgersincest]

Folgers should make a new commercial, one even worse than the original, to show James Cameron who is the real icon of this generation.

Folgers resurrecting the nightmare like

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #4: Flash Point

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: yes CW: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of hunting, weed, tobacco

Why was it so damn hot?

The Sun bore down with unusual cruelty, and the air was so heavy it felt damp against her skin, too thick to breathe, and if the dog at the other end of the leash she was holding’s panting was anything to go by, Anna was not alone in her feeling. They hadn’t even gone far, yet the Vizsla was pulling towards a shaded patch of grass and plopping down with a little whine. 

“I’m not carrying you home, so you better hurry before it gets really hot,” she grumbled. On the other hand she couldn’t exactly blame him. She’d spent the last five years studying abroad, two years in Oslo and three at Uppsala University. The Scandinavian Summers were comparatively cool and mild when contrasted to the hot, humid Summers so typical of the Eastern part of the North American continent. Her dog was born in Europe, and at the ripe old age of 3, had quite literally never known such high temperatures. 

“Tűz, fot!” 

The dog lifted his head to look at her then let out a noise of complaint before he got up and very slowly made his way to a heel position, looking forlorn. She chuckled a little at how dramatic he was being and gave him a gentle pat. 

“Duktig hund!“

A crown of dew formed around her temples and coated her shoulders and her neck. Given it was only 8:30 am, she dreaded to think what the rest of the day would be like. At least, she figured, her parents and the rest of her family likely wouldn’t want to leave the cool respite of the central AC.

She quickened her step at the prospect, hurrying back to the modest house her sister had began renting sometime after Anna had left for Europe. As much as she adored her parents, she’d been overjoyed when Elsa asked her to stay with her, and she’d been eager to make up for lost time. Of all the things she’d missed while studying, her older sister was what she’d missed most, leading her to question whether it was possible to be homesick for a person.

As she walked through the door, she found Elsa in the kitchen, frantically shoving a granola bar into her bag, along with a sandwich and some gatorade. Without looking up, she reached for her car keys and brushed passed Anna, only pausing briefly to kiss her forehead and mumble “good morning” which immediately drew a smile on Anna’s lips.

“Got everything?”

“Yeah I think I left most of Tűz’s stuff in the car.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

-x.x.x-

The drive to their parents place was a little over 20 minutes, but fortunately brought Elsa a little closer to the work errands she had ro run that day. Anna was a little bummed she wouldn’t be spending most of the day with her, but took comfort in the fact she’d come join them as soon as possible. Her eyes studied the edges of Elsa’s cheekbones, admiring her chiseled features, and the way the stray strands of blond escaping from her messy braid framed her face. Anna hoped that she had thought of applying sunscreen before leaving, though she somehow doubted it, given how hectic she’d been just before they’d left.

“Is it okay if I don’t take you all the way down?”

Pulled out of her reverie, it took her a moment to process the meaning of the question, until she remembered her older sister was referring to the downhill driveway that led to their parent’s house. 

“Oh sure! I forgot how tricky it is to turn around and come back up from there.” 

“How could you forget you very nearly wrecked the paint job on dad’s brand spanking new car?”

Anna cringed with embarrassment at the memory, but a reassuring ruffling of her hair cued her in on the affectionate nature of the teasing. The car stopped and Elsa turned to face her with a soft smile.

“I’ll try to be quick ok? I’ll text you as soon as I know when I can come meet you.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure we aren’t going very far in this weather anyhow.”

The car’s thermometer indicated an outside temperature of 37°C at the moment and she had a sense the felt temperature would only get worse. She grimaced, until Elsa reached over to hug her. She twisted in her seat, reaching to embrace her, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek, only to find they were both leaning in the same direction with the same idea. She readjusted, and so did Elsa, so they both course corrected once more, this time fully confident that she’d accomplish her task at hand. In their hurry to affectionately see each other off, the momentum they’d gained was too strong to brake, and somehow they both landed smack dab in the middle, their lips colliding in a soft peck.

Anna felt a little spark and let out a giggle, shared by Elsa who immediately looked up at the ceiling of her car, mortified, but unable to shake the wry smile of amusement. 

“Nothing like a little accidental incest to get your day going huh?”

She shook her head and reached up to tuck a strand of hair back behind Elsa’s ear, shrugging nonchalantly, genuinely amused because what else could you do at such a ridiculous situation? An accidental kiss, with her older sister warranted laughs, and she was sure the rest of the family would find it hilarious when she’d tell them.

“It’s just like that Folgers commercial: the best part of wakin’ up, is incest in your cup.” 

There was a glint of mischievous amusement in her eye, in spite of the sheepish grin, almost apologetic for what she had just said (rather than what she had done).

“Dear lord, Anna, just take your dog and go. At the very least this day can only improve as I’ve just hit rock bottom.” 

Doing as she was told, she got out of the car, retrieving her dog from the back seat along with their belongings before she turned to Elsa, offering her a bright smile, the hint of a smirk still lingering in amusement. 

“Bye, I love you, drive safely!” 

“I love you too, see you later.”

She watched as the car pulled back up to the top of the hill, waiting for it to disappear, just long enough to feel the weight of the heat begin to crush her, Sun searing her skin with eager malice. Anna turned to look downwards, recognizing the solar panels on either side of the roof, and the glass roof of the integrated green house. It felt so familiar to her, and as she walked towards it, it gave her a sense of comfort even if it no longer really was home. 

Subconsciously she reached up with her fingertips tracing her lower lip where the ghostly sensation of the peck crackled with electricity, forcing a little quirk of her mouth as the thought of it tickled her. How funny, she pondered, that she’d felt more from an accidental kiss with her sister than she’d had the last time she’d kissed someone. If that wasn’t the most obvious indicator of lack of chemistry, she didn’t know what was!

Knocking on the door she couldn’t wait to catch her parents up on this, tell them about the mishap, and couldn’t wait to see who amongst their relatives would have joined them for Anna’s welcoming home party. 

However, when her mother opened the door and embraced her tight, prompting excited tail wags and jumping from her dog, and asking her how she was, Anna found herself unable to speak it, suddenly second-guessing whether Elsa would appreciate her telling them, and wondering if it would come across as weird after all, rather than strictly funny. She couldn’t shake the feeling, and wasn’t sure why.

A while later, the moment had passed with relentless overthinking on her part and even still as she drank coffee and ate croissants with her mother, father, her uncle and her cousin, the sensation of the spark lingered on her lips, leaving her flustered with butterflies at the thought of her older sister’s mouth. 

That thought was soon cast aside however as her dog tried climbing into her lap which prompted her uncle to ask her about him.

“What kind of dog is that?”

Though the breed was becoming more prevalent in North America and increasingly popular with hunters it wasn’t quite as well spread in Canada as it was in the USA. 

“Tűz is a Vizsla.”

“Gesundheit.” 

She rolled her eyes, wanting to correct

“It’s a Hungarian Pointer breed. Pretty ancient, excellent and versatile gun dogs. I had him evaluated by a trainer in Sweden who said he was a natural bird dog. His name means ‘fire’, in Hungarian.” 

Even as she was listing out her boy’s illustrious origins she figured it likely sounded just the slightest bit improbable to her uncle Frederic, given how said majestic hunter was currently curled up in her lap with his front paws on her shoulders. 

“Huh. Y’know nothing beats a good Lab in my opinion but he sure is cute. He even looks like you, redhead and all!”

“Y’hear that? Uncle Fred thinks you’re cute! Don’t tell him you could outrun his lab in upland hunting any day.”

She turned to give her dog a little kiss on the cheek, but her mind immediately went back to the tingling she felt there, which seemed to amplify as she replayed the earlier moment with Elsa in her head, from start to finish. Her kopfkino was overshadowed with a much more pressing sense of dread however, when she heard her father’s warm voice cheerfully ask:

“Alright, who’s ready to rock and roll?” 

-x.x.x-

Though Anna had been distinctly less than thrilled at the prospect of going back out into the the fiery pits of hell her hometown had become, she took some consolation in the fact they were headed to her favourite, fully air conditioned lake front eatery. To sweeten the deal, Tűz had been so charming and well behaved, the staff didn’t question his coming in, and he immediately laid down under the table as he had been taught to do. 

The plan had been to eat first then head out to the beach for a swim. Of course no one had informed her prior so she hadn’t brought along a swimsuit, and she did her best to eat her lunch as slowly as possible. She’d failed to do the same with her drink though, the thirst was real and the long island iced tea was sweet. It had taken everything in her power not to text Elsa so as not to bother her (and avoid looking like the clingy younger sister she’d always worried she came across as). 

Trying to ignore her phone as she shared anecdotes and tidbits of her time spent overseas, she almost missed the notification from her older sister.

Hey, I’m close to finishing up here. Where did you guys end up going?

Mid-sentence, Anna interrupted herself to focus on typing back a quick response. 

We’re at The Captain’s Favourite, we’re almost done eating then we’re going swimming. Meet us at Faux Fjord Beach?

Awesome I’ll be there in about 15ish. Btw can you get me one of their Vodka Lemonade Slushies? Please and thank you! Can’t wait to get hammered on the beach and finally catch up with you ;* ( <- fully intentional, not accidental incest this time)

Anna blushed the slightest bit at the emoji, subconsciously biting her lip as it tingled again, and she giggled at the joke initially. At the very least, it was reassuring to know she hadn’t been the only one to think about their silly little incident this morning. 

Omg I forgot this place did frozen cocktails, that’s an amazing fucking idea. Same tho, can’t wait! See you soon <3 (not sure that’s legal)

“So Anna, are you going to tell us about your boyfriend?”

Her eyes shot up from her phone to find her cousin Rapunzel with an eyebrow quirked and a knowing smirk, along with the rest of her family looking at her expectantly.

“My what?”

“Girlfriend? Whoever that was that just texted you! Clearly you’ve been holding out on us because dang girl, you’ve got it bad.”

Anna stifled the urge to grab her glass of water and toss it at her cousin’s face, force of habit from their youthful roughhousing days. The cycle of merciless teasing and correspondent indignation was just as part of being home as the rest. 

“Chrissake no that was Elsa! I was laughing at one of her stupid jokes, she was asking where to meet us.” 

Unimpressed green eyes looked at her with skepticism, unconvinced that Anna was telling the truth. Her first impulse was to show her the text exchange to prove it, but she then realized that the out of context inside joke would land with the current audience. 

“C’mon, the girlish giggling? The lip biting? The blushing?”

Her ears felt hot and a flash of defensiveness flared up within her but she exerted just enough self-control not to throw herself into an argument about wrongful perception. Instead she pointedly ignored that line of questioning and relayed her older sister’s message to the rest of their family.

“She said she’d be here in 15 minutes, and I told her to meet us down by the beach.” 

A familiar, warm, curious little head poked out from under the table, golden eyes round and hopeful.

“I said beach, not bitch.”

Laughter erupted around her and she let out a quiet sigh of relief under her breath, patting her dog softly as she leaned backwards sinking into the booth seat. 

-x.x.x-

Anna was looking out at the water with a slightly forlorn expression, watching her dog swim out to her folks, then back to the shore on a loop of manic joy, wishing she could join them. Alas, with no bathing suit the best she could do was tie up her tank top, sitting in her daisy dukes under the sunshade, though she licked her wounds by sipping on the Bourbon Peach Lemonade Slushie she’d ordered. 

When a pair of arms embraced her from behind, nonchalantly sliding over her shoulders she immediately perked up at the recognition of the familiar scent that accompanied them. Before she could say anything however, Elsa was kissing the side of her cheek (successfully this time), and her heart skipped a beat as she smiled in response.

“Hey, didn’t feel like swimming?”

Anna turned to look as her sister sat down beside her, scooting into the shade, though not before her eye had caught sight of the dew on her skin betraying the heat. It was a little nicer on the lake, a pleasant breeze kept it from feeling completely unbearable, but still it would have been so much better if she could’ve gone swimming.

“No one informed me either, remember? Didn’t bring my bathing suit.” 

Reaching for Elsa’s drink which she managed to time almost perfectly before her arrival, she handed it over and took another sip from her own, her ears twitching slightly at the sound of the crushed ice compacting with the liquid. 

“Thanks,” was the murmured acknowledgement.

“Guess that means you’re stuck drinking with me.”

Her sister reached up to ruffle her auburn hair affectionately and Anna raised her mason jar with a smug little smirk showing that she was already well under way. 

“Way ahead of you, you’re gonna be playing catch up now.” 

“Hm is that a challenge or a warning?” 

Elsa’s tone sounded playful but her polarized aviator-style sunglasses hid the extent of her expression, making it somewhat unreadable. Anna shrugged, starting.

“Well if you aren’t a coward, it’s- ah!” 

She shrieked as she felt sharp, cutting cold against her bared shoulder. Glancing over, she saw that Elsa had pressed her still perfectly icy lemonade against her skin, amusement curling her mouth as she took her first gulp through the bendy straw. Anna’s resent at the sudden cold melted like… well, snow in the sun as she noted the genuine mirth in her sister’s mischievous gesture and the way her perfect, bow-shaped lips wrapped around the straw.

“Don’t get cocky, getting hammered was my idea remember? I’m gonna see it through.” 

Anna had scoffed but been unable to respond anything right away, instead distracted by the way the unruly strands of platinum that pried themselves loose from Elsa’s braid either floated softly, or stuck to the gentle sheen of her neck. Unable to resist the urge to try and tuck them back at times, it earned her an easy, quick smile whenever she did.

They’d remained mostly in comfortable silence, Anna stealing glances at Elsa’s exquisite face, trying to guess her expression behind the glasses she wore, studying how much she had changed, and it what was she was still identical to the way she remembered her. She wondered if her older sister was in any way aware of the stunning beauty she was. 

If they spoke, it was with a mixture of familiarity and uncertainty, like they were both re-learning to speak each other’s language without having ever really left one another. In truth, even before she’d gone to study abroad, It hadn’t always been easy for Anna to read her older sister, penetrate through the wall of ice she guarded herself with. And yet, she had never felt like she was being treated with anything besides love and tenderness. She relished in the small touches, the tactile displays of adoration she had missed so dearly from her and marvelled at how ravishing and confident she managed to look with such a simple and laidback style. The ripped jeans, beater-boy tank top and the shades were achingly cool and suited her all too well. 

She knew their parents were overly proud of her for getting a fancy degree overseas, and that they generally avoided discussing Elsa’s lack of direction in life. It didn’t matter one bit to Anna, she would always look up to and admire her older sister, maybe even more so because in spite of her struggles she’d managed to gain her independence. 

A brush of the hand against her shoulder, a gentle stroke in the nook of her palm. Fingertips brushing her hair out into her back. Fuck, while she hadn’t been isolated the whole time she was away and had her share of memorable trysts, this kind of intimacy sent pleasant tingles down her spine, and she only just realized now how much she’d missed it. It made her own fingers twitch with the need to touch, to stroke, to hold but she kept her foot on the pedal, once again afraid of coming across as clingy. 

When they had found the bottoms of their drinks, likely far too quickly for the amount of alcohol that were mixed in, Anna was resting her head on her older sister’s shoulder. Elsa had turned around to rummage through her bag, before handing Anna a bottle of spray-on sunscreen. 

“Really? I’d like to remind you I tan m-more easily than you…” 

Elsa laughed at that point and shook her head, reaching for Anna’s free hand with her own and giving it an affectionate little squeeze. 

“That’s the point, I want you to put some on my back, you know I’m old and crunchy and cannot reach for shit.” 

She snatched it out of her sister’s hand and scoffed.

“Firstly, shut up, you’re not old, you have a good two years of immortality left ahead of you.” 

Popping off the lid she shook the bottle as per the instructions on the label before. It felt slippery with her palms so sweaty, matching the rest of her body’s glow. While the drink had been refreshing on the way down, she regretted the way the alcohol made her skin flush and feel hot at this point. 

“Secondly, lie down, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Overheard in the town of Arundel. Out of context sisters.”

She felt like an idiot for laughing, but she couldn’t help that Elsa got her sense of humour so well and threw zinger after zinger about this since that very morning. Anna then waited for her to lay down on her stomach over the giant beach towel that had served as a makeshift picnic blanket. 

Her heart felt suddenly a little more forceful as it beat faster in her chest when she looked down at the exposed shoulder blades and lower back revealed by the hiked up shirt. Her mouth felt strangely dry and she didn’t for a second question the notion of finding Elsa genuinely gorgeous as she began to spray the solar protection onto the pale, fair, just barely freckled skin. 

Not wanting to hurt or surprise her, she very gingerly began rubbing to spread it more evenly. It soon became clear however that from this angle she wouldn’t be able to get the coverage the lotion needed in order to be effective. She swallowed quickly and subconsciously wet her lower lip with her tongue. Her head started racing as thoughts swirled in her head and she felt almost feverish. She knew she’d be better off straddling Elsa to apply the lotion properly, and she knew it was no big deal, yet still felt she should ask before doing so. On the other hand, asking might make it weird, and while they were enjoying their running gag from earlier this morning, this was a whole new level. 

God. Was she really overthinking helping her sister to put on protective sun lotion? This was fucking ridiculous. 

Buck up, or shut up.

Finally getting over herself, she swung her leg up, straddling Elsa’s thighs, trying to watch for any signs of discomfort as she went to work. 

“Mh, do you mind pressing a little harder against my lower back? Cause that feels really nice.”

Elsa’s skin was already damp, but somehow mixing it with the sunscreen made it feel silky, rather than sticky to the touch and Anna obliged, hoping she wouldn’t lose track of where she’d already rubbed, or that the sweat beading at her own crown wouldn’t start dripping down on her sister because the thoughts and implications there were maybe a little bit much, even for her. Yet the more she spread out her touch, the more she thought about their earlier text exchange, suddenly fixating on the parenthesis and the emoji, and the accidental kiss and… truly the unbearably hot weather was getting to her head and she’d have half a brain cell to be convinced she had a fever. 

“Leave some for yourself, in spite of what you think you still need to protect yourself too. I’ll even return the favour.” 

Anna gulped, almost audibly.

Miles away clouds gathered hanging heavy and jealously holding the crushing humidity hostage, unbeknownst to them which in turn only cranked up the heat Anna was struggling with being subjected to. It created a restless tension within her, an unconscious anticipation. 

-x.x.x-

The rest of the afternoon and evening Anna had been torn between the trepidation of going back to Elsa’s (their) place, and the secure comfort of her parents home. She’d avoided her cousin’s exacting questions about her European paramours and at dinner had been unable to focus on conversation as she’d felt Elsa’s occasional touch. The brush of her ankle against her leg, the innocent stroke of her hand on her side when she’d reach over for something on the table. 

She’d told herself she was just exhausted from the heat and stimulation and simply wanted to get back to an environment where she could decompress.

And while it was true a huge part of her stress was lifted the moment they’d arrived back at Elsa’s (their) place, the excitement of being alone together crackled with an unfamiliar weight in the air. Tűz had gone immediately to plop down in the love seat closest to the AC unit and almost instantly had began to snore. 

Elsa had dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, grabbing a pair of beers from the fridge, handing one to Anna before she’d walked towards the kitchen door leading to the patio.

“I packed a bowl this morning if you want. Just gonna have a quick smoke.” 

Anna had nodded and gone to sit down on the couch, feeling weirdly tense, shaking a little as she’d reached for the glass pipe on the coffee table and the lighter next to it. She put a flame to it, igniting the smoke and breathing it in deeply, hoping it would help ease the knot in her stomach. The entire day had passed and yet, whenever she thought of the accidental kiss they’d shared this morning, the spark still felt vivid, like the simple thought was enough to reignite the sensation. She couldn’t remember sharing an intentional, yet alone an accidental kiss with anyone else that left the same imprint. She wanted to ask Elsa if it was the same for her, if the element of surprise was simply being mistaken by her mind and body for excitement.

After all, this was her sister. It couldn’t possibly mean anything else. The idea of it being anything more was preposterous and inconceivable. Right?

But when Elsa returned with the smell of tobacco mingling into her natural scent, and the woody notes of her perfume, mixed into a sweet, soothing and… attractive blend, Anna could only move towards her as she sat on the couch and looked up at her, a sleepy smile hiding the slight trembling in the rest of her body. 

When she felt two hands cradle the sides of her face, her whole body went tense. Elsa’s icy gaze burned down into her eye and Anna’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it at the edge of her lips. She dared not twitch a muscle as the moment lingered and Elsa’s thumbs stroked her cheekbones with a heartbreaking gentleness. 

A strike of lightning flashed outside, quickly succeeded by a crack of thunder.

Anna’s eyes closed as she felt soft, pink, perfect lips against her own, and her mouth parted invitingly on instinct as she leaned forward. The fever, the restlessness, the mania that had built up throughout the day exploded as torrential rains beat down against the window pain, and Anna pressed her upper body into Elsa, her hands finding the edges of her tank top, savouring the taste of her, especially as she suckled at the tip of her tongue. 

Quiet gasps and sharp, shallow moans floated between them, and she hungrily kissed her back, nails scratching at the now exposed skin of her sacral area. She hooked her fingertips in the fabric of her shirt pushing it up with an urgency that was perhaps borne out of the clamour of the formidable display from the heavens outside. Though she’d have been lying to herself if she’d said it wasn’t also spurred on by the clenching she’d felt in her own lower belly any time she’d thought of her sister’s mouth against hers that day. 

She broke the kiss, though not before she’d given Elsa a little nip of the teeth to her lower lip, and only long enough to hurriedly discard both of their shirts, giving her a coy, heavily lidded glance as she noticed her older sister’s gaze on her now exposed, freckled breasts and pert nipples. She’d not been wearing a bra because, well, it had been too hot, and she could in fact get away with it. 

Confidently, Anna reached for the nape of Elsa’s neck giving it a littler squeeze to bring her back to herself immediately sliding her tongue between her lips. Her other hand caressed her side, the expanse of her stomach then travelling to the fabric of her bra. Meanwhile she produced little mewls of pleasure as she felt her sister’s hands cup her breasts hungrily and she shifted her position without missing a beat, pulling her down with her as she laid back on the couch, legs falling open, needing to feel the weight of her ribcage between her thighs. 

The hand she’d held the back of Elsa’s neck with began flirting with the damp, soft skin and toying with the stray platinum coloured baby hairs. She felt Elsa shudder above her and felt her hand wrap around her wrist, pinning it above her head, which elicited a moan from Anna. Her hips rolled upwards and she felt instant frustration from the denim creating an unwelcome barrier between them and she wished it gone.

Her wish was apparently Elsa’s telepathic command. 

Before she knew it they were squirming out of their respective skin tight denims with the clumsiness only eager urgency could bring. Her heart was thrumming to the relentless and unforgiving rhythm of the raging elements, and as her fingertips brushed against Elsa’s pulse, she knew hers was beating in time with them too. Chills went down her back at the thought of it and she left the harbour of her sister’s mouth to find that same point to the side of Elsa’s throat, kissing and nipping at it, causing their hips to connect frantically. One of her hands was still pinned above her head and her eyes burned with tantric desire as she looked up at Elsa, features magnified and deified each time the lightning flashed out of the living room window. 

Anna let out a whine as she felt Elsa’s free hand slide between their two bodies, slick with sweat now and she knew she was blushing when she felt just how wet she was once her sister’s finger parted her folds, the heel of her palm teasing against the engorged bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Her hips bucked upwards with need, both in shock of the sensation and in desperation for more. 

Eyes flew shut as Elsa now pressed her own hips against her hand, creating a firm inescapable pressure against Anna’s bud, and her finger pumping deep inside of her. 

“Fuck!”

It was not so much exclaimed as it had been hissed as Anna’s entire body rocked into Elsa, fingertips now tugging more firmly at the blonde roots she’d been gripping, as if clearly communicating she wanted her right there, and no further, desperate to feel her as close as possible, feel their nipples brushing against one another, bodies ravenously hungry for each other. 

They found a rhythm though it started off hot, frantic and messy and they found themselves pressed forehead against forehead, mouths slightly agape in the beatitude of sin, and the unbridled lusts of their animalistic pursuit. Thrust upon thrust, roll upon roll of the hips, caused electricity to spark and course through the burning of her lower stomach, tensing and clenching as she felt herself flutter against the welcomed intrusion of Elsa’s touch. Her nervous system pulsated it seemed with the same electricity that ravaged the outside world, protecting rather than threatening their unspeakable passions. 

“Elsa,” she breathed almost pleadingly as she felt a storm building inside of her, one to rival the majesty of the the fierce Summer storm rattling the windows with a reckless force.

“Anna,” was the sultry, husky reply. And not that she had any way of knowing this prior to that particular moment, but she could tell that Elsa was on the edge, just as close as she was, possibly closer. Her thighs squeezed harder around her sister’s hips, ankles locking together to keep her even closer than what was thought possible until that point. 

She could feel it tugging at her loins almost painfully now and she dug her nails into her own palm, the sting and bite of the pain cracking her closer. 

They cried out in unison as their climaxes crested in synchronicity, but the sounds were drowned out by an emphatic strike of thunder, so loud they could’ve sworn the house shook were it not that their own bodies were sent into a shaking mess of trembling frenzy. Overwhelmed and needing to channel it somehow as lightning and fireworks exploded in her mind’s eye their lips met into another electric, full mouthed kiss. 

Waves of pleasure crashed over them, unrelenting until they could take it no more, the tension evaporating as they fell limp, heart to heart breathing tickling each other’s ears, the sensation of which enough to titillate them into wanting to continue. 

Exhausted, Anna buried her face in the nook of Elsa’s neck, breathing in her sent deeply. Though driven by post-coital bliss, at the back of her mind a dark cloud gathered, fear attempted to bubble up, trying to ruin the glow. She nuzzled Elsa softly, kissing the sweat covered skin, humming gently at the taste as she deliberately avoided thinking about the mess they had made. 

They had a lifetime ahead of them for her to process the guilt and the shame. Or unpack the fact she did not feel any regret in the immediate aftermath of the unspeakable.

My God, what had they done?

[cherry3point14]

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Other than worrying about being killed, not much. Word count: 3,566. Chapter Summary: You never know where those pesky boys will show up. A/N: Sometimes I put things in that I think no one will ever notice. This chapter has one.

Ao3 if you prefer

“My imminent…?” You're stuck at your desk whispering to yourself.  Every inch of you frozen in place so completely that you can’t do anything except stare at the cream folder in your hands like it might be a bomb. As if the last five seconds have started ticking away and you have to choose which wire to cut.

It must have been a mistake. There was no way you were going to… die. Soon anyway. You couldn’t be… how could a folder kill you? Forget about the voice in your head that knew your secrets, how could this card and paper in your hands kill you?

This whole thing. This day. It must be a fever dream or a very vivid daydream. Of course, the voice knew your secrets because it was all a figment of your own imagination.

Imagination or not suddenly you were hoping to hear anything, answers to any of the questions buzzing about your head. It would be so much easier if you could hear the answers. The voice, that stupid godforsaken voice, it had done this to you, so it could fix it. But now that your fate had apparently been sealed everything was achingly silent.

“Answer me.” You finally move, leaning into the folder with a stern command but your voice cracks before you start.

Silence, except the normal office din. Phones ringing and fingers tapping away on keyboards but the voice stayed quiet.

You drop the file on your desk, not out of choice but because your hands start shaking if you get close to opening it. Though you are loath to admit it, the voice was right. Something about today and this file, in particular, feels different. Could different be enough to make everything true? If it's true can you stop it? You don’t know the impossible danger you’re trying to avoid.  Although yesterday you'd have said a voice in your head was impossible, let alone dying tomorrow.

You wouldn’t open it then. How could something hurt you if you didn’t engage? You could put the folder in the back of a filing cabinet somewhere and never look at it again. Or you could shred the thing. Coerce Laura into shredding it for you? You could convince her she’s not doing anything wrong.  This could be one case that got lost in processing—the client will get paid out because the company failed to investigate and you’ll go on breathing. Everyone’s a winner.

“Oh good, you got twenty-four zero one.” Your manager appears, hovering over you, coffee in one hand as he reads out the files’ label number.

“What?”

He takes an exaggerated sip, like a bad Folgers commercial, before explaining himself. “I thought you could use a little treat is all.”

“Treat? A treat?” You splutter; exasperated and unbelieving. The file might be your end and he thought this was a treat? “I’m sorry, why is this a treat?”

Your office was not normally a place for dramatics. You yourself were not normally one for dramatics.  It was only of the many reasons your boss liked you so today he ignores your sarcastic, borderline angry tone. He doesn’t make assumptions about your attitude, he simply chooses not to hear your tone at all.

He winks, “it’s right up your street.”

You almost dry heave,  barely choking it back. “I’ve got to go.”

“What?” He parrots, glancing at the clock on the wall reading 9:15 before turning back to you, your laptop not even switched on for the day.

“I’m sorry Mark,  really  I am.” You hastily stuff your laptop into your bag. Followed by your phone.  Pausing only a second after throwing the bag on your shoulder to decide if you should take the case file, before finally hugging it to your chest. Losing the file would be worse than taking it with you. “I’m feeling under the weather. I-I thought I would be ok but  I think  I should have stayed home this morning.”

There’s an air of patronizing manly-ness in the way he looks at you, “o-oh well. I appreciate you trying to make the effort.”

There’s no time to argue against Mark’s casual sexism, you have to get out of here,  quickly. “I’ll work from home for today. Sorry, again.”

He doesn't get a chance to say anything as you make your way erratically to the exit. Some desks you clip the corners of as you swerve to avoid people, plants, even the printer finds itself in your way.

Laura gets out a questioning, “Y/N?” before you’re back in the elevator you’d only recently vacated. The doors close behind you while you try to calm your racing heartbeat.

No getting rid of the evidence then. Mark knows you have the file now. Even if you hadn’t taken it with you he’d seen it at your desk, in your hands, he chose to give this to you.  Obviously  Mark has no idea he’s signed your death warrant with whatever was inside. It’s not even the first time he’s given you that dumb wink and treated you to cases he thought you’d enjoy. Like the time he had you go investigate the fire at that bakery because, quote, ‘you love pastries’.

The drive home is as silent as the rest of your life had been yesterday. You turn off the radio in case the voice cames back with more information but it doesn't. Which means the soundtrack to your journey is the clunky engine sound, again.  You absolutely needed to take your car to the garage, but who has the time with imminent death hanging over their head?

It’s 9:45 when you scuttle back into your house, bag in hand, and still clinging to the file like hiding it in your chest will make it disappear. You’ve only been out of the house for an hour but there’s something eerie about being back so soon. It’s almost like you’re interrupting your house’s private time. You’re not supposed to be here now and the dust bunnies hanging in the air seem disturbed by your presence.

There’s no time to dwell on the eerie presence of your usually comforting home. You put everything on your table and look around. Half hoping some insane stalker comes out of the woodwork with the exact voice you’ve been hearing. Unfortunately, that’s too easy.

Then you go back to the sofa. Yes, that’s where it had started. Your half-drunk tea is still on the coffee table where you’d been rushing to get to work. Instead of taking the mug into the kitchen you fall into the seat and pick up the cold cup. You have no intention of drinking it but you’re hoping for a miracle. If you do the mundane things she had taken so much pleasure in narrating earlier then can you force her to come back?

Although you sit there for a few minutes it’s painfully obvious after a few seconds that nothing is going to happen.

And then you remember the folder. The new bane of your existence. What if the only way out of this is to keep going? One step forwards, two steps back.

Maybe you have to open the folder that your narrator—there isn’t another name for them at this point—seemed so interested in earlier.  Maybe rushing out of the office hadn’t been what she wanted, so she had nothing to say.

You were going to open it eventually anyway. It’s your job and you couldn’t live with not knowing.

There's a glimpse of Manilla on the table in front of you, trapped under your purse. The voice had called it innocuous earlier and the description is apt. It is the next folder of thousands that you will ever hold. Unless, of course, it’s your last. If it’s your last then that explains why this one feels heavier than it looks as you slide it free.

Once it’s in your lap you frown at it. Mentally preparing yourself. For the voice or the contents, it doesn’t matter, either way, you try your best to steady your breathing.  Despite your reverence, as you flip the cover open, the first page is exactly what you expect to find: a summary of the claim, dollar amounts, and beneficiary details. And your head still stays silent.

You could get angry. You could shout and plead to whatever cruel twist of fate decided today was the day that you'd go insane. Anger won't change anything though. Screaming won't get your answers. But, your work is something you know how to do. It's always been a safety net, if not a little dull.

Yes, you could get angry, but there’s a file in your lap that needs investigation. The same as all the other claims you've ever closed.  And now that you’re in this ridiculous situation, caught between crazy and scared, you only had two options.  The first was to ignore the situation—return to bed with that half bottle of wine in your fridge and wait for something to break down your door and kill you. The second was to continue to do your job and ignore that everything in your life is absurd right now.

Those two options aren't options at all because you're not quite ready to start drinking before noon. Which leaves carrying on with your life. Mark was right about one thing anyway, it is right up your street. Well, a couple of streets over anyway.

You knock on the door and wait. The red paint is curling and peeling at the edges. The ‘5’ in ‘75’ is slightly askew, but nothing else is out of place. Even those small things you only notice because you’re waiting on the doorstep staring at them.  There’s sound inside the house, like muffled voices and then footsteps before the door bursts open.

“Hello?” The woman seems agitated already, which usually doesn’t happen until after you introduce yourself.

“Hello. My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m here on behalf of First National insurance. Are you Margret Hall?”

“Call me Maggie. Yes but…”

“I understand that you recently filed a claim with us for….”

“For my dead husband, yes, but what about the two guys who are already here?”

You can’t help your flinch at ‘dead husband’. In life insurance cases you always try to use tactful language even if it's the spouses or family who cut to the chase. Still, that’s not the part of what she said that’s worrying.

“Excuse me? There’s somebody already here?” Hope surges through you at the prospect of being mistaken. You have the wrong case, the wrong file, you’re not going to die. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I have two guys here now.”

Two guys? The company never sends two men to do one woman’s job. Especially not on a run of the mill claim like this. You slump your shoulders a little, deflated. It's your own fault for hoping.

“They’re still here?”

The woman grimaces in a way that tells you she wants to roll her eyes but she’s resisting. Instead, she purses her lips before she looks back into her home to confirm. Her answer is dripping with sarcasm, “still at the table where I left them.”

You’ve had worse from a widow—you’ve had screeching and accusations—and you let all that go because it’s a difficult time. So, when Maggie Hall twists her face and offers you her bored cynicism it's easy to not see it. You are more focused on the suspicious situation instead.

“Can I meet them?” You lower your voice because you don’t know how close they are to where you’re standing. “I, eh,  just  want to make sure they have all the correct information if they’re taking over.”

That's a lie. You don’t want to scare the poor woman by telling her she has a couple of strangers in her house but she definitely has. The claim file is reassuringly tucked under your arm. It is your proof, it’s your shield against their criminal behavior, their lies.

You’re so distracted by the drama of the situation that you seem to have forgotten,   momentarily, that you’d be more than happy to be wrong  . Overjoyed even. You’d quite like Harry and David from the office to be sitting there with an identical file offering you an escape. Yet you know they won’t be, because this has never happened before. There’s never a duplicate file. There’s never more than one adjuster accidentally sent. Until the voice in your head offers more information there’s no getting out of this.

Then you allow yourself to be distracted. You treat the situation seriously because it is serious.  While you can’t imagine why anyone would want to pretend to be an insurance adjuster, for some reason these two men are. The best you can hope for is that the strangers are as dull and harmless as the men who genuinely  work in your office.

Maggie, who is only a decade older than you to have lost her husband, steps back and finally ushers you inside with a tight-lipped smile.

Two men are sitting at her round kitchen table with their backs to you as she shows you in. They’re whispering and leaning into each other for their secret conversation.  If you didn’t know any better you’d swear you hear the words ‘silver knife’, which only perpetuates the criminal label you’ve already assigned them.

“Hello.”

They both turn their heads to look at you, startled by a new voice. Then they stand up in unison causing their chairs to scrap against the kitchen floor. They are definitely not the soft, unassuming men that you hoped to find.

You want to stand your ground and keep your body language confident but your hand still creeps into your purse as you puff out your chest  . Fingers searching blindly  for your phone while you speak. “I’m from First National insurance. I’m here to investigate Mrs. Hall's claim but she said someone was already here.”

They have excellent poker faces, you’ll give them that at least.  If you had to read anything it’d be a small hint of panic from the taller one and a flash of anger from the shorter one, like an animal backed into a corner  .  But their reactions are instantly hidden under steeled expressions so you can’t be sure if your elevated heart rate is making you see things  . It dawns on you then how stupid a plan it was to try and seem imposing to these two behemoth men who fill up the entire room. Would you even be able to dial 911 without taking your phone out? There’s a pause before the taller guy runs his hand through his hair  nervously , “that’s a crazy mix up, huh?”

His attempt at friendly casualness bolsters the last shred of confidence you are clinging to  . He’s nervous because he knows he’s been caught, which means that you are right.

“It would be if I had ever seen you two around the office.” You narrow your eyes at them and open your mouth, ready to unmask them for the imposters they are.

Mrs. Hall chooses this moment to decide that three uninvited insurance adjusters are two too many .

“Can someone explain what the hell is going on?”

Tall guy is quick on the draw and jumps on the opportunity to run. “I’m very sorry Mrs. Hall it looks like there was a mix up at the office. We’re going to head back now and straighten this out but we’ll leave you in the capable hands of… um… our colleague here.”

They’re already walking. Taking big strides with their long legs and your widow is glad to guide them out. Your fingers finally wrap around your phone  securely  and you protest as best you can. “You don’t even know my name. Why were you…?”

A deep and unsettling emotion brewed within Y/N as she watched them leave, one she didn’t ever remember feeling ever before. She might not have a name for it but knew that this was one of those important moments. The ones that stories are written for, that songs are created about, the kind of moment that changes a life.

“Oh for the love of God, not now.”

She was, of course,  absolutely right. Her life had changed as soon as she’d opened her eyes that morning. Knocking on this particular door was not a choice made for her by her boss or even herself, it was destiny. She could never go back to a time before she crossed this threshold and in time she wouldn’t want to.  Although at this moment—trying to stop these strangers from leaving like she’s a detective in one of her mystery novels—she doesn’t realize what’s happening. All Y/N knows is that feeling in her stomach. The glaring klaxon sound echoing in her head. The icy determination that has locked her chin into an unwavering line. All Y/N knows is that these men broke the rules that dictate her life.  If they could so effortlessly disrespect her tenuous sense of self, then there was no limit to the heinous crimes these madmen might commit. She had to stop them.

You’re only dazed for a second by the implication that you might, at some point, not regret any of this, or them. It's enough time for them both to make it to the door. The taller one is quick to open it, ready to make his escape. “Wait! What were you doing here?”

It’s the shorter one, although shorter is all relative when he still towers over you, who spares you a frustrated glance before he leaves. “Above your pay grade, sweetheart.”

And then the door closes. Maggie finally rolls her eyes as if she’s been waiting a lifetime to do it, except the action is not at you, it’s with you. Their rude and haste exit has catapulted her firmly onto your team.

The door tried it's very best to separate her from the strangers she’d just met. It stood as opaquely as it could in the hopes that, without the visual aid, she might forget they had existed.  It tried, oh, how the door tried to divert her attention from the unknown men who could be terrible, rule-breaking influences on her.  However the door was only wood and she was a stubborn woman made of free will and limbs—a woman who refused to be deceived.

Your hand is on the doorknob before the mention of your limbs has finished rattling around your head.  Realistically you don’t want to encourage the voice by doing what it says. After all, the voice's ultimate goal seems to be killing you. It’s just  your need to open the door goes deeper than your fear of the voice. The voice isn’t proven yet. It could still be a psychosis or a brain tumor. Those men are concrete. Real dangers that you can chase down and confront. Or at the very least you can see what direction they head off into. That would be good information for the police.

The doors of a black muscle car slam at the same moment that you step outside again, phone in hand. The engine revs loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood of their exit. The police will never get here on time so you do the next best thing. You snap a picture of their big, noisy car and make a mental note of the license plate in case the picture’s blurred.

Watching the unknown car hurtle into the dusky, afternoon daylight felt like an ending. The proverbial full stop in a sentence she hadn't been finished with. Were it any other day, any other encounter, then Y/N might be right about this ending.  Perhaps this might have been an intriguing story to recount to her coworkers in the office. A fable to paint herself as the insurance adjusting sheriff around these parts. She scared off the bad guys. However, this was not any other day and those were not any other bad guys. In fact, one of them would change her life.

It was hard enough typing the license plate into your notes app while the voice distracted you.  Impossibly  you manage to note down the Ohio plate to go with your hasty picture.

Googling that would be something for later, for now, you had a whole other job to do. Something simple and easy. Something you knew how to do in your sleep.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Hall, I mean Maggie, let’s get these questions answered so First National can stop sending people around . Huh?”

Contine to Chapter 3.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278​ @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson

[finepairingspodcast]

ThE BeST PArt of WaKIng uP is inC**t in yOUr CUUPPPPP

We did it fam, we tried to find the most niche fan fiction and we were unsuccessful. We found MANY options for our prompt which was “that one folger’s commercial...yes that one...”

Somehow the fic is even worse than I would have imagined? 

Fic: Princess by  Author: V_V_lala

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/4F5XXu2XZ0v4dAU9hqelCw

Apple Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-best-part-of-waking-up/id1476652826?i=1000452146239

[swingsetindecember]

No sibling writing will get worse than the Folgers holiday commercial.

i blame star wars

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Where the Heart Is by Alixtii

fandom: Folgers “Home For the Holidays” Commercial

pairing: Folgercest

word count: 19k

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: Is it ever

Is it endgame: Yes!!

Is it shippable: Yesssss

First off if there’s anyone who has not yet read the epic GQ Folgercest Fandom 10-year-retrospective which i still can’t believe was written by a bona fide journalist, RUN DO NOT WALK over there and do it now. I find it hard to believe there’s anyone with an internet connection who hasn’t seen it?? It’s fucking ubiquitous, there’s a finance & economics blog I follow that linked it lol.

There’s so many Folgercest stories where the tension builds & builds and I respect this one for being like NOPE here’s an explicit sex scene in the first chapter, merry christmas to MEEEEE. I thought the sex was dope but I also think it serves the important function of getting the “longing” & “pining” components out of the way so we can take seriously that the whole “go on the run & get fake married” proposition is a big ask. Luke asks Lexie to come away to Africa with him, and it takes her the seven days of Christmas + New Year’s to say “yes” (with Auld Lang Syne playing in the background)—ngl I may have emitted an actual squeeing noise when she said yes.

The setup for the New Year’s Kiss occurs as soon as Luke arrives home from Africa:

”it’ll be our first New Years after turning 21. We rented a limo and everything. Jane and her boyfriend just broke up a couple of weeks ago, though, so we have an extra ticket if you want to come."

This is pretty nearly “I accidentally-on-purpose brought my brother as a date” territory—it’s not the Most Formal of Formal Events like a wedding but it still puts her brother in a role her romantic partner would normally occupy, and we can expect either (1) lots of “is he single??” female interest or (2) fake relationship!!! Spoiler alert there wasn’t enough fake relationship to satisfy my trope-loving ass but when he let his teleconferencing coworkers assume the hot girl who wandered into camera range was his girlfriend that made me a happything.

It’s a very absorbing story with gobs of Catholic guilt thrown in but the thing that shook me most about this fic is probably that the alternative to “another round of morning sex” is “let’s build a snowman.” Like!!!! Could anything have been better calculated to push all my buttons.

Luke didn't expect to return to find her still a virgin--hell, he's not even sure she was a virgin when he left. Still, he can't help wonder how many times she's done this, with how many boys, and feels an incredible irrational, hypocritical resentment against them for defiling his sister.

This, THIS right here is what I came for. She’s still his baby sister and he can’t turn off a lifetime’s worth of protective instincts even if he’s the one defiling her now. It crops up again with his discomfort at her holding a beer he’s like is she even old enough to drink??? Lmao.

Btw I have zero complaints about the quantity of sneaking-around that occurs in this fic: They make out in their mom’s kitchen when Mom herself could pull into the driveway at any minute!! They park the car in the woods and give each other handjobs!!! Incredible. “What are we, teenagers again?” Luke wonders, and the entire point is they’re not, even if the woods are crawling with teenagers they are adults, and they’re making up for lost time. Luke made a conscious decision five years ago to leave rather than initiate a relationship with Lexie:

”I needed to get away so I could find myself. But, yeah, one of the things I needed to get away was that I couldn’t help spending every moment thinking about how much I wanted to fuck my sixteen-year old sister.”

Lexie studies him, curious. “And did that work?”

Luke shrugs. “Did I stop thinking about it? No. But at least it kept me from doing something I would regret.”

Lexie nods, thoughtful. “I’m not sixteen anymore, you know.”

“You’re still my sister,” he points out.

Oof. It’s a very different dynamic when you try to navigate these shoals as adults, instead of the scenario where you move seamlessly from platonic forehead-kisses to tongue-kisses. I appreciate Luke for attempting to do the whole courtship dance, take her out to the skating rink and the fancy French restaurant and meanwhile Lexie just wants to cuddle.

He said, “You never opened your present yesterday.” She smiles at him, a lascivious grin. “I really think I did.”

Damn but this callback to the iconic “You’re my present this year” line is unalloyed genius.

I did not expect this OC their cousin Gwen to play such a big role. She’s crushing on Luke and she ain’t subtle about it and since Luke can hardly tell his cousin “I’m not interested because I’m already fucking my sister,” the whole situation makes for comedic gold. At one point Lexie makes a quip about her and Gwen having similar taste in men and I was DYING:

“Oh, she was hitting on you hard,” agrees Lexie, “Not that I can blame her. She doesn’t know you’re already taken.” Luke puts his head in his hands. “God, this family is so fucked up.” “It could be worse,” points out Lexie. “It could have been Aunt Mary.”

That Lexie has got quite a mouth on her. The point of Gwen isn’t that Lexie feels threatened by her interest in Luke; it’s that Gwen may be a vexatious person who inserts herself where she is not wanted but she’s still family, and Luke and Lexie choose to take her wasted ass home with them rather than allow Gwen’s mother to witness her inebriated condition. Because you stick by your family. Even if it cuts into your limited one-on-one time with bae because now you have third wheel Gwen.

Side note I love that Luke is a huge nerd who’s lugged a whole roster of interesting books back from Africa, I realize this is a Folgercest fic and not a book blog but I swear my TBR just grows of its own volition. The payoff for all this geeking out on Luke’s part is, he gets a concussion and has a pretty surreal dream featuring some real, some fictional characters, and a good dollop of his own id. Later on, Lexie and Luke are quoting poetry at each other and when he casually dropped a line from’Tis Pity She’s a Whore I was legit s c r e a m i n g. For those of you who aren’t familiar with it, Tis Pity She’s a Whore is a Jacobean revenge tragedy prominently featuring a pair of incestuous siblings and while the genre is incompatible with happy endings, the incest is not presented at all unsympathetically. It’s worth reading even if you’re not into incest, it’s that wild of a ride.

All right folks this is how we go out with a bang:

The last five years--the last twenty-eight years, really--may have been long and difficult as he was forced to lose and find himself, but he knows they were all worth it, because they culminate in this moment. This is who he is: brother, lover, and companion, until death do them part.

they’re SOULMATES i can now die happy

[halibellecter]

gosh, okay I was really hoping someone with whom you had better, closer rapport would step up and explain this... so there's this commercial for Folger's coffee...

annnnd upon rewatching it, I have to say it's Even Worse than I remembered. Anyway, it comes (heh) around during the holidays and, well, there you have it, it's the incest coffee commercial. Happy holidays!

I understand this may be upsetting so here is a barn cat for your trouble

this is Dean, he's very shy and would never inflict terrible knowledge upon ye.

@halibellecter i have not been able to stop thinking about this but WTF IS INCEST COFFEE

[lueminous]

To me people STILL saying that they’re related is worse than them platonic bc holy shit how do these people interact with their cousins/siblings?? Ew

The only way to respond to these ppl if you feel like it is to link them to the folgers incest commercial

[stephanidftba]

BTS of my Entim'ara fic:

(fic at https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487177)

CH 1

“Well, my little brother Norvo’s in prison for murder.” Ezri stopped as Kira put her head in her hands.

“Your past life and your little brother?”

“You mean Joran? Yeah. I think having his memories is part of why I was able to handle it so well when Norvo was arrested.” Ezri nodded.

- Ezri has to deal with a surprising amount of murder 

"Our father left when we were little, Mother ran him off I guess." Ezri listed.

- Where’s Ezri’s dad? He went back to Space Canada after teaching Ezri how to say ‘sorry’. 

CH 2 

"Entim'ara. Togetherness festival." Ezri explained. "It takes place over 3 days. It’s a celebration of romance, family, friends... Joined Trill don't really celebrate since it can be a reminder of all the loved ones past hosts have lost…”  

"So you just psychoanalyze your mother?" Kira asked. 

"Yup." Ezri nodded. "Not to her face, of course, she doesn't like me using my training on family, but it helps to know what you're getting into."

- These concepts lifted from the Ezri-suggestion blog (<3) 

"You really enjoy being the tall one, now." Ezri accused with a grin. 

- I love how short Ezri is, especially compared to Kira and Jadzia. 

Part of her brain kept insisting she'd feel better if she pushed her forehead against something, but it wasn't working. She suspected her brain was actually seeking a cool surface and the signal was getting jumbled.

- My brain does this when nauseous and it’s so weird and annoying 

"What in the pools could a counselor be busy with?"

- I really like taking english phrases and twisting them for aliens 

Kira stood up and held her close, tucked Ezri's head down to rest on Kira's shoulder. Their faces were blocked from the viewscreen. 

- These sentences took me so long to get close to right (I’m still not entirely happy with them). Everything I tried felt wrong, impersonally descriptive, kind of like passive voice, when what I wanted to show was Kira hiding Ezri from Yanas’ view on purpose so they could whisper to each other. 

CH 3

“This must be your girlfriend that I’ve heard nothing about.”

- This guilt-tripping twist on ‘This must be X that I’ve heard so much about.’ still makes me chuckle. 

“Kira, would you prefer to stay in the guest room or Ezri’s room?” Her mother asked… "I assume that's something from Dax…” 

Yanas is very pointedly using Kira’s family name and the name of the symbiont here, saying ‘I can be nice and use the names you want me to’. 

the handful of model spaceships slowly making their way around the ceiling

- Taken from a planned but unfilmed detail from Prodigal Daughter 

"4pm. Can you make it until dinner?" He replied.

"I think so."

"1700?" Kira clarified. Ezri shook her head.

"New Sydney's on a 24 hour system, it's about 1530 Bajoran time."

"We probably will be a bit starlagged, it’s close to 2100 on the station." Kira nodded.

- I made a conversion chart between 24 and 26 hour days because time math is already hard, and I kept almost having people leave work at 1700 

“Because Joining is so important to most Trill, toy symbionts are used to explain the concept to children, as long as they're big enough to not fit into a child's pouch."

- Even though Ezri probably grew up away from the planet Trill, she’s still a Trill, and would learn about her body as kids do. And since many kids stick stuff up their nose, I imagine Trill kids would try and stick stuff in their pouch, especially when adults explain that maybe they might have a symbiont in there when they grow up. 

“Ezri, have you heard from Brinner?” Her mother asked. 

- Ezri’s mother is uncomfortable with the conversation (Ezri dating the second in command of the station), so she retaliates and asks about something that will probably make Ezri uncomfortable. 

“After what he- you’re the one who pressured him into- him and Janel-!” Ezri threw her napkin down and started pacing behind her chair, her thoughts coming too fast to even get out properly. 

- These are happening at the same time, I don’t know how to properly convey that. 

“We were the only Trill on the Destiny, and were informed that if Dax's condition worsened, sy would have to be joined. We both planned for it to be Brinner. Turns out he was a Changeling, though. Completely screwed up his chances of getting Joined when he attacked me." Ezri took a deep breath and Kira squeezed her hand. "Apparently wanted to make certain he’d get Dax. I passed out. When I came to, they told me that the Changeling was dead, but he'd hurt both the real Brinner Finok and Dax. Sy needed to be joined and I was the only one available."

- Taken from what I remember of Ezri’s story in Lives of Dax. 

“I’ve co-slept before. You can’t be worse than a twitchy resistance fighter, or a 7 year old.” 

- Because you can’t convince me little Molly O’Brien never had a bad dream and crawled in bed with her Aunt Nerys. (I’m bad at math but I think Molly would be 7 when Kira’s pregnant with Yoshi.) 

CH 4

Ezri unwrapped her present to find a small bedside mirror with her name printed on it. 

- I know there’s a fic (rated M or E I think) where Ezri has a picture of herself beside her bed to remind her who she is when she wakes up, and it backfires. This idea is adapted from that. 

“I know you sometimes have trouble with Dax in the mornings, I hope it helps.”

“Thank you, Mother, I’m sure it will be useful.” Ezri smiled. At least her mother was trying to help with her struggles...

“Happy Entim’ara, Ez.” He passed her a model spaceship kit, the Defiant. She hadn’t built models in years, she had no need to anymore. But he’d tried to get her something she’d like. 

- When someone gets you presents that you have no interest in because they don’t really know you so they just get things based on the little that they know about you. And you don’t like the present but you don’t want to seem ungrateful so you just go along with it (even though this encourages the bad gifts). 

“You being home is present enough.” He smiled.

- I’M REWRITING THAT FOLGERS COMMERCIAL  

Though she was taking the opportunity to glimpse the ridges on Kira's forearms and calves close-up. She knew they were more prominent when bones and cartilage were near the skin. 

- I like thinking about alien anatomy far too much for someone who doesn’t really know how human anatomy works. 

"You're perfectly safe. Tobin wasn't your fault. We're not going above impulse." Kira murmured. Torias had been the one who died in a shuttle craft, but Ezri knew it was hard for others to keep all of Dax's hosts straight. She sometimes had trouble with it, and she remembered being them all. 

- This line brought to you by ‘I mixed up Tobin and Torias and rationalized that Dax’s friends would probably not remember all the previous hosts perfectly’. 

“because of the secret of Joran and how confused Joining made me, and how few ties I have to Trill, I'm worried the Symbiosis Commission is keeping an eye on me to keep the secret, especially when I call you.”

- Ezri “says goodnight to the FBI agent assigned to watch her” Dax 

"Ez? We landed." Kira wiggled her shoulder. 

"I fell asleep?" She muttered, sitting up...

Eventually Kira woke her (she hadn’t intended to fall asleep) and they went to fall asleep properly in Ezri’s bed. 

- Ezri feels safe and relaxed in Kira’s arms 

CH 5 

This chapter exists because I realized in shortening their trip to and from DS9, I’d accidentally written a 5 day week. 

They entered the gravity acclimatization chamber

- The gravity acclimatization chamber is a little room with its own gravity plating that tilts you from the normal gravity of your ship to the tilted gravity of the station 

“Maybe we can try to sneak onto a blue hill.” 

- Kira “takes a sled down a black diamond run to prove Ezri’s mom wrong” Nerys 

“She told me that when you get upset, you can say really cruel things.” 

- See: Ezri talking to her mom in Prodigal Daughter, Ezri and Worf when they crash land and get taken prisoner by the Dominion. 

“it’s late, people say stuff at night that they wouldn’t say if they were fully awake.” 

- I read somewhere that there’s a scientific reason for this but I can’t find it. 

CH 6 

"It's okay," Kira murmured, rubbing her back, "you're safe now." ... “You can let it out, you’re safe.” 

- Don’t imagine Kira’s dad comforting her like this when she’s little, or Kira during the Occupation comforting other kids by assuring them it’s safe to show emotion, that there’s no Cardassians around. 

CH 7

I’m still debating taking out the early stopping points here. People are going to read to the end, so having multiple ‘the end’s seems weird. But I wrote all 3 intending for it to be ‘the end’ then came back to add more, so all 3 work as ‘the end’. 

[smallsummerfox-blog]

34 Best Survival Hacks You Should Learn Right Now

Survival hacks are solutions that break the rules. The best survivalists don’t just blindly follow rulebooks, so we hack when necessary. Sure, there are hundreds of survival guides we learn from but you’re at a huge disadvantage when you rely too heavily on any one resource.

Real survival is a creative endeavor that requires fast thinking and an open mind. Sometimes you have to improvise, adapt, and make it up as you go along. You have to make split-second decisions. You have to work with what you have got.

You have to think like McGyver by survival hacking your way to safety.

Some of the following survival hacks are my own personal tricks, others I have learned from different survivalists, but together they are very useful and applicable in most any survival scenario.

But remember: you can always “make up” a new survival hack on the fly. All you need is a goal and a handful of random materials. There’s always more than one way to solve any problem.

The following list of survival hacks is not comprehensive. In fact, these 34 survival hacks are just a small drop in a much larger bucket. But this list will inspire you in a creative survival sort of way.

The Survival Hacks (We’ll Start Simple)

1 – Dorito Fire Starters

If you need to get a fire started ASAP, but don’t have paper or lighter fluid, use Doritos (any corn chip will work well). These chips are flammable and will ignite quickly. They are a perfect makeshift tinder to get a small quick flame. Time to survival hack your way into building a much larger fire.

They are a perfect makeshift tinder to get a small quick flame. Use Doritos to survival hack your way to build a much larger fire.

2 – Alcohol Swabs as Fire Starters

Similarly to Doritos, alcohol swabs are incendiary. The alcohol makes them flammable enough to catch quickly and the cotton holds a flame long enough to establish a lasting fire.

3 – Battery as Fire Starter

Another great survival hack to generate flame is to use a battery and a couple small pieces of tin foil (or wire). By placing one tin foil strip on each end of the battery, you can get the foil to heat up and burst into flame.

Any battery will do, and the flame generated should be big enough to set fire to paper, thin bark, alcohol swabs or even Dorito chips.

4 – Pencil + Jumper Cables + Battery = Fire

Simply attach the cables to your car battery like you are giving someone a jump. But connect the other ends to a pencil.

The graphite core of the writing utensil will conduct electricity, heating up and causing the pencil to burst into flames.

5 – Crisco Candles

Often times, in survival situations, people lose electricity to power their lights. But fear not! As in times of old, you can use candles to generate light. But what can you do if you are fresh out of wax candles?

Crisco makes a good candle “wax” substitute. Just run a makeshift wick through a big glop of it and you’ll be good to go.

6 – Crayon Candles

Crayons are more than just art supplies for kids. They can be stood up on end, lite on fire, and viola you have a makeshift candle. Each crayon candle will only last about 15 minutes but you can get a box of 96 crayons. That equates to 24 hours of emergency light.

7 – Terra Cotta Heaters

Here’s a survival hack for when there is no electric heat, and you need to warm up a small room. Well, without a fireplace, starting a fire in the living room is out of the question. But there is another way: terra cotta conducts heat very well and radiates the warmth that it collects.

By placing a few candles beneath an upside down terra cotta pot (which can easily be bought at any hardware or garden store) you can create a mini-heater that will pump out a surprising amount of heat.

Set up a few of these makeshift heaters and your home will be nice and toasty in no time!

8 – Coke Can Alcohol Jet Stove

Cut the top of the coke can off about 2-3 inches from the bottom of can, and turn it upside down. Drill or poke holes in the bottom of the can so that air can flow through the ‘stove’. Place a gel fuel tin (or something similar) under the upside down coke can and light it.

You may have to adjust the size of your holes and the airflow somewhat, but once you get it, you should have a working jet stove.

9 – Wild Plants For Insect Repellant

Smoke of any kind works as a general insect repellant, but a few wild plants work as well.

The video below is proof that the right wild plants will keep these dangerous pests at bay.

10 – Super Glue Stitches

Super glue is small, easy to carry, and when there is an open wound that needs closing there really isn’t anything (short of actual stitches) that is better suited for the job.

Just make sure to pinch the laceration closed until the glue dries.

11 – Makeshift Slings

Slings are one of those things you don’t need until you really need one. Luckily, they are pretty simple and really easy to improvise: bandanas, t-shirts, hoodies, blankets and tarps can all work.

If it is too big, cut it, if it is too small, tie a few together.

12 – Hunting Broad Heads From Keys

With the right kind of tools and a file, a key can be shaped into a makeshift hunting broadhead.

13 – Duct Tape Fletching

If you are making your own arrows, you will undoubtedly need a form of fletching. Fletching is the feather (or foam, or plastic) “rudder” at the end of your arrow. It stabilizes the shaft during flight and increases accuracy by a great measure.

In a pinch, when you do not have the time to craft fine fletching on each arrow, duct tape can provide the necessary stiffness to balance the flight of your projectile.

14 – Can Top Fishing Hooks

Fishing is one of the best ways to gather food in wilderness surviving. But finding the right materials is not easy. Luckily, one very common item makes for an almost perfect fishing hook: pop tops!

The fun little tags on top of your beer and soda cans are a great shape to make a fishing hook out of. All you have to do is remove one segment of the top and file it to a point. And there it is: you’ve got yourself a functional fishing hook.

15 – Gorge Fishing Hook

Gorge fishing is one of the oldest methods for fishing. Human beings have been using this technique for thousands of years to catch fish, and it is pretty simple: sharpen both ends of a small twig or stick, and carve out a notch in the center of it.

Wrap line around the carved notch and stick your bait on one sharp end. Drop the gorge hook in the water, and when a fish swallows it, pull the line hard and the twig will turn sideways inside the fish, lodging in its throat and securing your dinner for the night.

16 – Fish Trap from 2-liter Bottle

Take the cap off of the top and cut that end of the bottle right just where it reaches full thickness. Flip the smaller piece and insert it back into the bottle, in reverse. You may have to make a few cuts in the cap end so that it fits snugly inside the bottle’s body. Tie (or otherwise secure) the inverted cap end inside with wire or string.

The basic idea of this trap is the same as any commercial crabbing trap: for fish to swim inside, where they will not be able to swim back out.

Of course, don’t expect to catch any monster fish with this, but it is a good way to secure a few mouthful of minnows.

17 – Yucca Sewing Kit

This is one of my favorites, but it is also only viable in certain geographic areas of the United States.

Yucca is a sharp, agave-like plant with big fat leaves that end in sharp barbed points. Cut one of the leaves off the plant, and start shaving off the edges, until you are left with a long thin, single strip of Yucca with the barb at one end.

Now, cut that thin strip in half and twist the two strands together like a small rope. This will increase the tensile strength of the twine and leaves you with a sharp needle and a thread with which to sew your torn garments.

18 – Water Bottle Ceiling Lights

Need a ceiling light, but don’t have electricity? We got you covered. Just fill a transparent water bottle with water and cut a hole in the roof of your shelter (this probably will not fly in the house).

Jam the bottle up in the hole, and there it is! The light will travel through the water and disperse (hooray for physics), creating a source of light to brighten up your darkest days.

19 – Desk Lamp Water Jug

Gallon jugs of water can work as lamps too! Just fill them up, and wrap a headlamp around them. The light from the headlamp will turn that gallon jug into a bright desk or table lamp.

20 – Improvised Compass

This is one of the oldest and most useful survival hacks in the “book”.

Get a cup or puddle of water (it does not matter as long as it is still and not flowing), lay a leaf in the center of it and gently place a sewing needle or piece of wire on top, so it floats. The magnetic fields of the Earth will naturally orient the needle to point North/South.

This trick has saved thousands of humans over the centuries and is a hack every survivalist should know well.

21 – Rain Collection from A Tarp

All you need is a large tarp and a 5-gallon bucket to collect a significant amount of water when the skies open up. Even in a light drizzle, you can collect a decent amount of drinkable water with this simple survival hack.

22 – Signaling Whistle from Bullet Casing

Maybe might have noticed that larger spent bullet cartridges look a lot like whistles. This similarity was not lost on us, and with a few precise cuts, you can make a very loud, very shrill whistle, perfect for signaling distress.

23 – Folgers Toilet Paper Protector

What is worse than going to the bathroom only to discover you have no toilet paper? Going to the bathroom and discovering that the toilet paper you did bring is soaking wet… I only had to make this mistake once before I changed my ways forever.

Now, I use a coffee can to house my toilet paper, keeping it forever dry! Zip lock bags work well too and pack easily.

24 – Condom Canteen

Yeah, you read that right. Those trusty rubbers are good for more than just baby-prevention, they can also save you from dying of thirst.

Fill one up with water, and carry it with you if there are not any other viable options for transporting the water. Just make sure the condom is not used, or flavored, or lubed.

25 – Improvised Reflective Signals

These can be fashioned from any number of reflective materials; rear-view mirrors, CD’s, polished metal and even jewelry can work.

Of course, some are easier to work with than others. But as long as it shimmers in the sunlight, you should be good to use it as a distress signal.

26 – Tarp Shelters

Survival shelters are hard to come by in many situations. Especially a waterproof shelter. But with a

But with a large survival tarp, you can make sure that you stay dry and protected from the elements.

Tarps do not insulate very well, though, so while it is possible to just hang one up and pass out underneath it, you won’t be staying warm for long. So, the best way to remedy this it to build a small stick frame (like that of a tent) and lay the tarp over it.

Then, pile dirt and moss and leaves up against the sides of the tarp, this will act as insulation and keep your heat from dissipating too quickly.

Snow can be substituted for the dirt in winter (like an igloo).

Here’s where you can get an Aqua Defender King Camo Tarp like the one in this video.

Complex Survival Hacks

27 – Hunting Bow from a Bike Tire

There are a few slightly different methods to accomplish this, but the general idea is the same. First cut the frame of a bike wheel in half, clean out the spokes and sand down the sharp edges.

Then create a guidance system for your string with a couple of well-placed eyelets along the cut rim of the wheel.

The video below goes into much greater detail. It takes time, and it requires a number of supplies to accomplish successfully, but this is the kind of thing that could be used for hunting or self-defense in a pinch.

28 – Makeshift Raft

If I learned anything from the movie Jaws, it’s that empty plastic containers float pretty well. That simple fact applies to smaller containers too; like drinking water bottles and gallon jugs.

By fastening a bunch of empty plastic containers together – either with string or by wrapping them all together in a tarp – you can create a pretty big flotation device capable of carrying at least one person.

29 – Coffee Can Wood Burning Stove

Coffee cans are useful for a lot of purposes. But perhaps my favorite (and one I learned years ago, back in cub scouts), is the wood burning rocket stove.

Turn the metal coffee can (plastic won’t work, sorry) upside down on the ground, and punch a couple of ventilation holes in (what is now) the top of the can. You can also cut a small circle of the flat part for increased airflow.

Cut a square out of the side of the can where you can feed the fire inside. Now all you have to do is collect wood, and keep the inferno inside your coffee can burning.

These stoves work great for cooking outdoors when you don’t have a gas stove or don’t want to cook over an open fire. They also generate a lot of heat and can act like a small heater on chilly nights.

30 – Blanket Chair

Just because you don’t have access to your favorite Lazy Boy recliner, doesn’t mean you have to forsake comfort entirely.

By building a tripod A-frame out of 4 or more solid branches, and tying a blanket or a tarp to it, you can make a very comfortable, single person camp chair, perfect for keeping your bum off the cold ground.

31 – Homemade Penicillin

If you are not familiar with the revolutionary excellence of penicillin as an antibiotic, you need to get educated. This awesome little mold was one of the first ever discovered antibiotics used to fight bacterial infections.

And in the wilderness, or in a survival situation, having an antibiotic to fight an infection will absolutely save your life.

Before antibiotics were discovered, people regularly died because of small cuts that got infected. And you will too, without antibiotics. But you need to be careful, making sure to follow every step in the process as closely as possible.

And I wouldn’t wait around until you have an infection to start growing penicillin – because that is already too late. This is one that needs to be planned ahead by growing your own or with survival antibiotics…

32 – Ping Pong Ball Smoke Bomb

Have you ever tried lighting a Ping-Pong ball on fire? If so, you know that they are incredibly incendiary. They light up like the 4th of July.

By wrapping tin foil around the ping pong ball, and leaving a funnel for air at one end, you can create a fairly effective smoke bomb.

Put a flame to the bottom of the tin foil wrapped ball until the plastic inside ignites. And BOOM! Smoke will start billowing out the funnel.

33 – Grass Tire Pressure

If you get a flat tire and do not have an air pump, a spare, a patching kit, cell service to call for help, or any other viable option, you can fill a burst tire with grass and other foliage to provide just enough support to drive on it.

Simply cut a few holes on the inside of the tire and start stuffing! Obviously, you will not be able to use that tire ever again – it will need to be replaced – so don’t do this unless you have no other options.

34 – Improvised Perimeter Alarms

Security is important and becomes more important in survival situations. Air horns, firecrackers, or any triggering device can be rigged with string to go off when someone trips the wire.

A well-planned perimeter alarm system can help you get a good nights sleep when you’re concerned about trespassers.

You can pick up some Sentry Alarm Mines that work with .22 rounds. When tripped, these will fire off the .22 round and make one hell of a bang.

The Final Word

There is no “right way” to survive. Each individual is going to have his or her own survival style, tricks, and hacks. I highly encourage everyone to develop your own…

No website, survival book, or teacher will ever capture every possible survival hack. Quite simply because there’s always new ones being developed by clever survivalists. Anyone with a handful of materials, a goal, and the will to survive, will rig together things in order to stay alive.

So share your own survival hacks with us today in the comments below!

– Will Brendza

http://www.skilledsurvival.com/survival-hacks/

[jvnn-xx-blog]

5 Rules of Marketing That Will Help You Find the Right Niche and Thrive

In 2016 the internet is filled to brimming with white papers and ebooks on how to create an optimal landing page, set up an inbound marketing funnel, map out an email nurturing campaign, etc.

But we don’t often hear clients asking about the basics of marketing. It’s almost as if, in this era of Internet specialization, marketing has become a series of systems rather than a single conceptual framework.

So, here’s the billion-dollar question: Does marketing have “rules” that are true whether your audience is online or off?

Over the next few decades, marketing will evolve in a dramatic fashion; big data is already changing everything. The Internet of Everything will bring even more variables into the mix. And virtual reality will change everything yet again.

But, no matter what happens, it’s likely that the following five rules of marketing will never change because they are firmly grounded in consumer psychology. And they have implications for business strategy, product development and, especially, growth:

1. Being first matters more than being better.

Whenever a company is “first” in a new category, as Coke was with carbonated soft drinks, the impression it makes lasts for generations.

Coca-Cola was founded in 1892. In the 124 years since, countless rival brands have come and gone. Only Pepsi (founded in 1898, only six years after Coke) remains a real competitor. Yet, in 2015, Coke owned 42.7 percent of the U.S. market for soft drinks, while Pepsi owned only 31.1 percent.

In other words, that six-year difference in being “first” in a market still amounts to an 11.6 percent advantage 124 years later. This is true despite the fact that Pepsi actually wins in taste tests.

Apparently, first impressions last much longer than you think.

2. If you can’t be first in a category, create a new one.

In just about every new category that’s ever been invented, there’s a company that’s first, and there are countless imitators. But, as with Coke and Pepsi, decades-long competitions eventually normalize into a two-company race.

That happened in the personal computing category, with Hewlett-Packard and Dell (28.1 percent U.S. market share versus. 23.9 precent). And it happened in the automobile industry, with GM and Ford (17.4 percent vs. 15.3 percent). If you’re third, fourth or fifth in any of these categories -- good luck.

But is it possible to not be first or second in a category and still win? Yes, if you create a new category entirely. You can do that either by specializing in the existing category or opening a new geographic market.

For example, Apple knew that it wouldn’t be able to significantly penetrate the worldwide notebook category dominated by HP and Lenovo (20.7 percent versus 20 percent) because it entered too late. So, in 2012, it created a new, specialized notebook category: tablets. Today, Apple is first worldwide in tablets, with 29.6 percent of the market.

3. Perceptions matter more than products.

It’s human nature to believe that we can improve on something that’s already on the market by creating a better product in an existing category. That’s why so many new startups tout a specific feature that distinguishes them from the trendsetters. These startups usually disappear.

Consumers probably don't care that you’ve made a better product. They won’t notice, and you can’t convince them. That’s why Pepsi beats Coke in taste tests and it doesn’t matter. Quite frankly, if you’re not first, you’re probably worse in the consumer’s mind.

But, as long as you understand the law of perceptions, you can work it in your favor even if you aren’t first.

For example, Apple wasn’t first in personal computers, digital music players or even touch-screen smartphones. Yet it’s revolutionized each one of those categories because the perception of value is more important than the facts.

4. When you own a word, you own a feeling.

Remember all those TV and radio jingles you heard in the '80s and '90s? McDonald’s has more jingles and slogans than just about any company on the planet, which is why you don’t remember most of them. But Folger’s has kept the same slogan (and jingle) since 1908.

Yup, it’s the one you’re thinking of right now. Why does this matter? Because when you own a word, a phrase, or a jingle, you effectively own real estate in your consumer’s mind. You own an invoked feeling, which is priceless.

Nike’s “Just do it” slogan is a great example of a brand owning a feeling. Nike’s been running “Just do it” commercials and ads since 1988. Today, when people think of the brand, they think of lacing up their sneakers and just doing it -- whether that means playing pickup basketball or buying an expensive pair of kicks.

It’s no surprise, then, that Nike has managed to surge past former sneaker market leader Adidas. Today, Nike owns 27.2 percent of the global footwear market while Adidas owns just 8.7 percent of the U.S. market.

What’s the Adidas slogan, again?

5. Competing at everything often means winning at nothing.

Following the first four rules of marketing can help you become successful. But the fifth rule will help you stay on top.

What happens whenever a company reaches a certain size? It goes public. And what happens then? Shareholders want it to keep increasing profits (often unrealistically). Inevitably, the company’s executives arrive at the same conclusion: The only way to satisfy shareholders is to extend the brand and create a new line of products.

While this may work in the short run and skyrocket profits, it almost always leads to the company’s diminishment. That happened when IBM decided to extend its line beyond mainframe computers. It also happened when GM decided to make all its cars look the same. Foreign automakers like Toyota swooped in for the kill.

Which brings up another observation: Plenty of successful companies are still successful because of their “first” product or service, yet they continue to brand everything else under the same name.

Microsoft has a huge software brand but is only a significant market leader in its first offering: operating systems. As a brand name, Kraft isn’t the market leader of anything anymore despite everything it sells. Yet it leads the cream cheese market because it sells that product under a different label: Philadelphia.

Whenever you try to bucket too many products, services or ideas under the same brand name, consumers just get confused and the brand name loses value. People will always associate the name with the product, perception or feeling that first made it famous. That’s why you’d be better off branding each new product under a different name, instead.

Can these marketing laws ever be broken?

Of course they can! As in science, laws are true only until someone finds a significant exception. But they still matter to businesses large and small because they’re the best we’ve come up with, given our present observations. For over 100 years, these laws of marketing have held true.

So ask yourself:

Are you “first” in your category, or should you create a new category?

Do you own a word, feeling or perception in your consumer’s mind?

Are you overextending your brand or staying focused on your niche?

Related: Book Review: The New Rules of Marketing and PR By David Meerman Scott

These are questions all business owners should be asking themselves far more often. Knowing the answers will save them a lot of energy, time and money.

[pen-masta]

Peace and Coffee Part 1

This is a spin off of Brotherly Love this takes place several years in the future when Castel is older and this focuses on him and his best friend. It was inspired by the Folgers’ coffee commercial the link is here–>   X

Rated Pg-13

Enjoy!

1 2 3 4(Complete)

He walks down the carpeted steps. His bare feet dragging across the fluffy floor before falling onto the hardwood flooring of the kitchen. The rising sun shines its rays through the window of the kitchen and the glass patio door, bringing more light into the room—more so than the overhead. His mom has left the window open and he can hear the birds chirping and singing as a beautiful day begins.

Although the world around him is happy and joyful, he is not. He is miserable, he’s hurt, he’s sad, and in turn he scowls as he walks with his hands in his jean pockets. Today is not a good day. Today is not a happy day. Today is a day to be as unhappy as he pleases, because he’s losing his best friend.

He walks into the kitchen to find Zack sitting at the kitchen table. He and Eliza had stopped by for a visit last night on their way to the south for a holiday. They were leaving later this evening—which is another reason he’s allowed to be miserable today. Zack sits at the table reading over the newspaper with a steaming mug sitting on the hard oak of the table.

 Zack spies his little brother out of the corner of his eye and smiles brightly, “Morning Cassie.”

Castel grunts in response as he opens the cabinet door. He takes his mug down—the white one that Joy had given him last Christmas. It’s got bedazzling gems, glitter, stickers, and rainbow hand drawn bubble letters that spell out ‘Cassie’ on it. He had grabbed it out of habit and now staring at the colorful crazy mug he despises his muscle memory.

Muttering to himself he quickly puts the mug back and takes down a plain black mug. He pours the dark liquid from the coffee pot into the mug and takes a seat next to his brother. Scowling down into his mug he watches in his peripheral vision as his brother folds the newspaper and sets it on the table.

 “What’s with the look, Tiger?” Zack asks sipping his coffee.

 Castel mutters inaudible and reaches for the sugar bowl.

  “Out of sugar cubes,” Zack says.

Castel growls and sips his black coffee. He knows it’s not Zack’s fault he’s upset, but he just can’t seem to not be angry. Well…he’s more hurt than anything, but it shows itself through anger. He sets the mug down and stares into it, trying to differentiate between the dark liquid and the darkness of the mug.

 Zack’s smile falters a little and he decides to stop beating around the bush. He knows what’s got his little brother in a mood and frankly he can’t blame the kid. He can’t imagine how he’d feel if Eliza would just up and leave for two years. He can’t empathize with his little brother like he has been able to do in the past. Castel is the first of the three brothers to have to deal with this, he knows his brother’s heart is aching…but he can’t ever really know how the kid’s heart aches.

Zack clears his throat, “When does the plane leave?”

Castel pauses a moment before he sighs silently, “Two o’clock.”

Zack’s eyes dart to the kitchen clock, “It’s seven o’clock now. You’ve got time to go see her.”

“I know,” Castel says solemnly. “I will.”

Zack looks at his brother and smiles sympathetically, “It’ll be alright, you know.” He says trying his hardest to comfort his kid brother, “It’s not like you’ll never see her again.” 

Castel nods allowing his brother to think his words are helping, but really they’re making it worse. But he knows his brother’s intension are good so he smiles kindly and thanks his brother. The two finish their coffee in silence and Zack offers to wash Castel’s cup for him. Castel gladly takes the offer and heads up to his room—or what his mom liked to call ‘cauchemar d’un inspectur de la santé’ a health inspector’s nightmare.

He opens the door to his room and maneuvers around the several empty bags of chips, empty soda bottles, dirty clothes, caps he’s collected over the years, pencils, journals, textbooks, crumpled up pieces of paper, and discarded blankets. He takes off his Godzilla t-shirt he had slept in last night and tosses it aimlessly to the floor. He rubs his neck wincing at the twinge of pain that shoots down his spine. He had fallen asleep at his desk last night working on a new device to market. Hunched over in his chair, head surrounded by circuit boards and tools was not a good position to sleep in for the young nineteen-year-old.

He looks down at his jeans. Besides the darkened spot on the side of the fabric left by an old mustard stain the pants look suitable for the day. He slips on his belt and his last pair of clean socks before scouring around his room; picking up random t-shirts and sniffing them to find one that didn’t have an odor to it. He finally settles on a burnt orange t-shirt with Optimus Prime on it, in the Uncle Sam pose with the words ‘I want YOU in the Robotics Club!’ written underneath of the picture.

He pulls the shirt on and sniffs the collar again. There’s a faint musky scent to the fabric and he gnaws his bottom lip trying to decide if it’s okay or not. He decides it’s not, so he opens his closet and pulls out a green flannel shirt—promising to be clean considering he almost never wears anything from his closet. He sprays a bit of his cologne on his neck and picks up one of his many caps that litter the floor, before heading across the hall to the bathroom.

 He brushes his teeth and tries to tame his curly mop, but ends up leaving it with it’s extremely curly bedhead look. Staring at his reflection he can see how exhausted he looks. He’s been running on coffee and Rockstars the passed few days as he tries to churn out a new line of electronics to start his business.The grant he had received upon his graduation was more than enough to buy all the material and space he needed…now all he needed was something to market!

 His face displays four, no maybe it was five nights of no sleep. Dark circles rest under his chocolate brown eyes that have a slight red tint near his lids. His hair is a stubborn mess and the five o’clock shadow he’s got going on brings home the fact he hasn’t been in the bathroom longer than to use the toilet. His nose wrinkles remembering it has been a few days since he’s showered and although his hair isn’t greasy his face could probably use a good scrub.

 After washing his face with his washcloth, he pulls on his cap, stomps into his Vans, and heads down the stairs again. It’s almost eight o’clock and this time the kitchen is full of several people that bring life to the quiet house. His mom is busy chattering away with Eliza while Zack and his dad are cooking some breakfast.

 He smiles a little when his mom sees him and she stops her conversation to hug her youngest son. He returns the hug and whines like a small child when she kisses his cheek, earning a little giggle from Eliza who watches.

 “Glad to you finally out of your cave, ma chérie.” His mom smiles, her accent very thick as she speaks.  

 “I’ve been down before,” he smiles and rolls his eyes.

 “Not for five days,” she says and lets her son go.

 “Vous exagérez,” he waves away her comment. “You exaggerate, Maman.”

 Eliza and his mom both chuckle and roll their eyes, before going back into their conversation.

“Cassie!” His dad’s booming voice calls out over the sound of crackling grease. He smiles brightly at his youngest, “You’re still alive I see!”

 Zack snorts and laughs as Castel rolls his eyes, “Yes I am alive and well.”

 “Good,” his dad says and turns back to the stove. “Come help your brother and I.”

 “I’m sorry but I can’t,” Castel says. “I need to go over to Joy’s this morning.”

 The room falls silent and everyone turns to look at the youngest of the Cubs family. Their faces all look the same—sadness and sympathy. Castel manages his hold his grin and hide the hurt that rips through him. His mom clears her throat and shakes her head.

 “Of course,” she says and walks over to her son again. “I forgot that was today.”

 “That’s alright Maman.” Castel shrugs.

“You go,” she smiles.

“Yes, yes go ahead.” His dad smiles solemnly and nods. “Give her ours best wishes.”

“I will Papa,” Castel smiles as kindly as he can without showing his inner sorrow.

His mom hugs him again before he heads to the door. He smiles as the voices of his family pick up in conversation again. He heads down the street to the third and last house on his street. It’s a little white house with teal shutters and a short driveway that is surrounded by beautiful bushes of different kinds of colorful flowers.

With his hands in his pockets he walks up the pavement smiling at the oak tree that sits in the front yard. Memories of sitting under the tree as she climbed high above his head only to dangle upside from her knees flood his brain. He remembers long summers spent under that tree and the tree house that sits proudly in the backyard oak. The driveway is no longer littered with bicycles and tricycles and toys of all shapes and sizes. No, now it holds a car and an old worn out basketball hoop—the only clue that children used to play here.

He walks up the white porch listening as the steps wail under his weight; he imagines the steps feeling the pain he does as well. Wind chimes dangle down from the roof of the porch; some have been bought, but most she’s crafted from recyclables, sea shells, and sea glass.

 “Anything can be made into something new,” she’d tell him as she’d pick up a discarded glass bottle. “You just need to give it the TLC it needs to get there.”

 He remembers walking along the beach with her, helping her find all kinds of shells and sea glass. He remembers the time they found that enormous conch shell that washed up after that bad hurricane. He smiles more when he sees the conch shell proudly perched above the door.

 He knocks on the screen door and walks in after hearing a voice calling out from somewhere in the house that he was welcome. Mr. Curtis sits on the couch reading his book, that he looks up from to smile at Castel.

“Morning Cassie,” he says and although he is smiling, Castel can hear the underlying sadness in his voice.

 “Good morning Sir,” Castel smiles. “I was just—”

 “I know why you’re here,” Mr. Curtis chuckles and turns back to his reading. “She’s in her room.”

 Castel thanks him and heads up the stairs. His mind backtracks to last night; he had gone to dinner with the Curtis family to her favorite restaurant. A place she wouldn’t get to eat at for a long time. It was nice, it was relaxed, it was…public. Not exactly the personal time he had desperately needed from her…but they all ate together and talked and laughed, and he masked the pain it caused his heart to sit there.

 Shortly after the dinner was over she had jumped in the car with some of her other friends she had made while he was away at college. She did invite him, she did include him, but…he declined. It was hard enough sitting through the dinner, he’d never last if he had to spend the entire night with her and her friends. So he feigned illness and headed home.

But it wasn’t enough, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to sit across from her and hold his plastered smile as they talked over side salads and spaghetti. She had invited him, but the hurt in her eyes told him she might have just invited him out of pity. The sickening feeling tight in his stomach told him she may be still upset with him. And frankly he couldn’t blame her. He’d been such a jerk and so distal the last several weeks.

He remembers the morning she announced she was joining the Peace Corp. They were having their weekly Saturday movie night followed by a sleep over on the floor—a tradition started when they were ten. It was the next morning as they sat with her family eating Lucky Charms, everyone she loved was together and she thought it would be best to tell them all at the same time.

Of course it took her parents by surprise but they were proud and supportive as always. Her sisters—all of whom were home visiting for the weekend—were shocked by their youngest sister’s decision, but they were just as supportive as their parents. It was Castel who had an issue. He remembers being quiet the rest of the breakfast. He tried to process the curve ball she had just thrown at him. And all he could think about was how it did not in any way, shape, or form fit into his plan. The plan he’s had mapped out for their lives since eighth grade.

When everyone had left for work or the mall or what have you, and it was just the two of them it happened. He blew up. They had the biggest fight they’ve ever had in their thirteen-years of friendship. He yelled that she was being impulsive and not thinking everything through. That he’s finally gotten back from college and she decides to run off for two years. He shrilled that she had never mentioned ever have a desire to do this before. The only thing that could have brought this on was just a little whim she had that she wasn’t serious about.

Hurt played in her eyes for a moment before she gathered herself and stood her ground. She snapped that he had done the same thing to her only it was for three years. That it wasn’t fair of him to accuse her that way. The unshed tears in her eyes caused his heart to tighten and he’s hated himself from that moment on. They yelled, they fought, and tears stung his eyes as she hissed that she had been counting on his support.

From that moment they hadn’t really spoken. This being the longest amount of time they didn’t speak to each other. They didn’t text. They didn’t call. They didn’t hang out. He distanced himself from her, sinking into a dark cloud of self-pity. He was losing her for two years, and in turn he drowned himself in circuit boards and screw drivers attempting to fill his pain with some kind of electronic—even though he threw out just about every idea he had.

He didn’t sleep for five nights after their fight. He felt like such a jerk. How could he have reacted that way to her? He’s never put himself before her in the past. Even when he had decided to move up to the college level at sixteen, he had considered her feelings. She had been in his thoughts ever step of the way, and how it’d affect her. In the end he did have to choose his future over her feelings…and he guesses that it’s the same for her.

They each had different goals, desires, wants, needs out of the life they wanted. He wanted to be a successful engineer and she…wanted to help people. Of course she wanted to help people! She always has. She’s always been kind and caring, why hadn’t he seen this blanket sweep coming? He’s known her since he was six-years-old, he should have guessed this would have been the path she’d choose. And why should he condemn her for it? Why did he have to be such a jerk? Gosh, he hates himself!

When she had invited him to dinner he was really surprised. It had been almost four weeks since the announcement…well actually three weeks, four days, eight hours…he’s been counting. Rounding his numbers it’s been a rough four weeks. Four weeks since they had spoken to each other. Four weeks without her sweet voice, her jokes, her laughter, her smile…he’s such an idiot to have let this happen! He thought maybe she had forgiven him, but the look in her eyes was unreadable…he had really hurt her. He cut her so deep, and it was going to take more on his part to make this right.

He walks up the steps and past the doors of her sister’s rooms. He can hear the bass of Cheap Thrills booming from the end of the hall. He needed to fix this and fast, the last thing he wanted to do was have her fly to the other side of the world hating his guts. And he certainly didn’t want to have her leave and be left with the truth that she did hate him. As he gets closer to her overly decorated and colorful door the music gets louder, and he sees the door of her room has been left open letting light and music flood the hall. He peeks into her room to see clothes piled up on her bed completely covering the thousands of stuffed animals that lye on the mattress. Balls of yarn, colored pencils, sketch pads, and colorful stones litter the floor. And next to the pile of clothes sits a bright orange suitcase that lies open with a few shirts in it.

His heart drops into his gut at the sight of how empty her room looks—the reminder of her inevitable departure. Lyrics blast from the speaker that sits on her desk and he can hear her singing—errr well screaming—the words to the Sia song. Although he can hear her, he can’t see her. And he’s a little thankful for it, this gives him a few last moments to gather his thoughts…actually he had no thoughts. He has no idea why he’s really here right now. He knows he has to fix this, but he has no idea what he’s planning to do or say. He can’t have her leave with everything so sour between them. She’s his best friend, she’s all he has. Sure he’s still in touch with his brothers and some guys from college, but it’s different with her. They grew up together, he knows everything there is to know about her. He loves her just as any friend would. He couldn’t leave things like this.

“Ah ha!” Her voice articulates from somewhere in the room, ripping him from his thoughts. “I found you! You thought I was gonna leave without you? Yeah right!” She laughs and her closet door opens.

A curtain of brown wavy locks appears in the closet doorway as she steps out into the room. Her eyes are closed as she begins to sing along with the song again, bouncing and dancing to the rhythm of the music. In her hands she grips a ball of bright red yarn and a crocheting needle. Her lips are pulled back into a smile as she sings and dances around her room.

Two years. Two. Years. Two flipping years! Two years of not getting to speak to her everyday. Two years of not getting to see her every morning. Two years of not seeing her jubilant smile. Two years of her never embracing him for a hug. Two years of not hearing her beautiful voice. Two years of not hearing her loud unashamed laughter. Two years of not being called a dork-osaurs-rex.

Two years of not hearing her swear to avenge Kirby after he K.O.s on Mario Bro’s Brawl; followed by that challenging face she’d make when he’d laugh in victory. The same face she’d make right before she’d tackle him and blow raspberries on his neck until he conceded. Two years of not getting to watch her paint—shortly followed by one of them starting a paint throwing battle.

Two years! No corny jokes. No dancing. No tickle fights over the remote. No food fights. No pranking wars. No random water gun fights. No chasing each other around the yard with silly string. No falling asleep on the couch. No hearing that goofy snorting giggle she makes when she tells him a dirty joke. No late night phone calls. No hot summers in the too-small-for-us-now-treehouse. No constancy.

No Joy.

She’s gonna be gone for two years, on the other side of the globe. And when she gets back she’s probably going to be a completely different person! He can’t do this! He thought he could but he just…his heart hurts, tears prick his eyes, his hands tremble in his pockets. He knows she had to deal with him being away for three years, but he was home in the winter and summer. He would come home on the weekends—and he did mainly to ease the pain of the distance. He texted, he called, he skyped. He did anything to contact her. He could come home whenever he felt like it…she can’t. She can’t call him up in the wee hours of the morning. She can’t text him ‘Hey dork-a-doo what’s the haps???’. She can’t come home for a visit during the week…

He swallows thickly and pushes his sorrow out of his head. He can’t think that way about his immediate future. He needs to be here. He needs to be now. He needs to make this right. Swallowing his tears and forcing a small smile, he watches her bob up and down as she tosses the ball of yarn into the open suitcase.

“I love cheap thrills!” Joy screams and points out in front of her as if she were preforming on stage.

His fake smile turns genuine as he watches his best friend dance around like the goof she is. He decides it’s probably time to make his presence known, so he steps into the room. She hums along to the fading tune and opens her eyes. She picks up a shirt off the bed, accidentally knocking off a stuffed animal. When she turns to pick it up she sees him. Her smile shrinks for a moment, and his heart constricts.

She shakes her head and turns off her speaker. “Hey there Cassie.” She says brightly, but he can’t help but feel the tone in forced.

 “Hi,” he says.

They stand there in silence for a while. Her eyes look down from his to focus on the floor, and he’s mentally cursing himself. His eyes wander around the room, falling on the open half empty suitcase.

“Last minute packing I see.” He says trying to make conversation, “Cutting it close aren’t you?” He teases, raising a brow and smirking.

She looks up at him and smiles a little before rolling her eyes. “You worry too much Cassie.” She points to her desk chair where a backpack sits completely stuffed to the max. “I’ve got my main bag packed already.”

 “So what’s all this?” He asks and gestures to the bed full of clothes.

 “Extra stuff,” she shrugs and tosses a t-shirt into the suitcase.

 He chuckles a little, “Didn’t they say bring only what you absolutely need, Jo-Jo?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her hand dismissively, “But I’m going away for two years Casanova! How can I not bring just one more t-shirt, or stuffed animal, or yarn ball, or sweatshirt?”

His smile falters a little, but he manages. “Alright I understand.” He smiles and looks the various items that lye on the floor and bed. “So you’re all set to go, hm?”

“Oh yeah baby!” She laughs and punches her fist into the air, “Philippines here I come!”

“I’m not sure the Philippines are ready for you Joy.” He teases with a chuckle and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Well they best get ready!” She laughs and he nods in agreement, joining in her mirth.

Silence falls again and he feels so awkward. He nervously rubs the back of his neck, before clearing his throat. She looks up at him and he smiles weakly.

“Would you…ah…would you like some help?” He asks stuttering a little.

She blinks staring at him for a moment before she smiles and nods, “I most certainly would.”

He smiles more and helps her sort through the mass of clothes that sit in an enormous pile on her bed. He tries to rationalize what she should take and what she should leave. She whines at his rationalizing and tosses several items into her suitcase—half of which he convinces her to take back out. They’re talking. They’re teasing each other. They’re laughing. Things are normal. She’s looking at him. But he can see the hidden hurt in her eyes. When silence falls the air gets tense…okay so maybe it’s not so normal. His watch tells him it’s almost eleven when they’ve finally got the suitcase packed. She puts the stuff she’s not taking with her away and sits next to him on the bed. They sit there in silence for a while before she pipes up.

“So how’s Martha?” She asks not looking at him.

“She’s good,” he says looking at his lap. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

She sighs dramatically and smiles teasingly at him, “Gotta move at a snail’s pace don’t cha Cassie-role.”

He chuckles a little and rubs the back of his neck, “Hey I’m being cautious.”

“Oh would you just ask her out already?” She shoves him playfully, “When I get back you better have asked her. I don’t want all my hard work to be done in vein.”

He smiles, “Alright, alright I get it.”

“Do you? I’m not sure I’ve gotten it through that big cranium of yours!” She giggles and pokes his forehead causing him to giggle as well.

“I’ll ask her alright?” He laughs and bats her hand away.

Silence falls again and he sighs a little, knowing he’s running out of time.

“So your flight leaves at two?” He asks looking down again.

“Yes,” she says and plays with the loose string on the hem of her shirt. “But I’ve got to be there two hours before the flight leaves to get through security and all that jazz.”

His eyes dart to her face, “So you’re leaving…at noon?”

She hesitates then nods, “Yes. My taxi will be here in an hour.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” He asks panic swirling in his stomach.

She shrugs, “I don’t know…I was just…enjoying you being here I guess.” She says looking down at the floor.

The anger pools in his chest again wanting to rear its ugly head, but he won’t let it. He understands what she means. She doesn’t want to address the fact that these are their last few moments together. He can’t mess this up, but the emotions he’s been hiding begin to grow larger. Pricks form behind his eyes and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“Joy,” he says and his voice cracks on the end of her name. He hadn’t meant to say her name with so much emotion, but his heart is swelling and it’s getting harder to school his emotions.

She looks up at him and her eyes show great concern. The sadness gnawing in his chest creeps up onto his face and he quickly gulps it down again, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. Even though he’s tried to move quickly he was not fast enough, she must have seen it because she winces.

“I just…” he clears his throat and looks down. He can’t look at her, the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m so very sorry Joy.”

 “Cas—” she starts to say but he cuts her off.

“No, no,” he shakes his head and smiles weakly at her. “I owe you a massive apology Joy. I’ve been a butt—”

“More like a jumbo major massive butt,” she giggles airily.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, “Alright yes I deserve that. I have been a jumbo major massive butt the passed few weeks. I’m sorry for the way I reacted, it…it wasn’t right.” He looks down, “I just…gosh Joy!” He closes his eyes tight trying his hardest to fend off his tears. “When you said you were going to the other side of the world for two years it was like I was swallowed up by an endless black hole.”

He smiles weakly and gives a sharp laugh, “That’s really kind of why I’ve been distal and…and…” he fumbles and she smiles a little.

 “Acting like a huge cry baby?” She teases and raises a brow.

He laughs more freely and shrugs, “I was going to say sulking, grumpy, moody, but sure huge cry baby works too.” He smiles and she giggles airily.

He can feel the tears pressing against his eyes pleading for the dam to break. His nose starts to run with snot as the bottled up emotions shake and threaten to explode at any second. As causally as he can, he wipes his nose on his sleeve, he will not cry in front of her. He inhales harshly before he continues, ringing his hands in his lap.

“And it’s just…I’m going to miss you so much. But that’s not the real reason I blew up…” he dares to look up at her. Her eyes are wide and glassy, her lips are parted slightly, she’s just staring at him. “I blew up because you’re leaving me. Joy you’re my best friend…my only friend if it isn’t obvious!” He gives a loud sardonic laugh, “I’ve known you since kindergarten and now I find out you’re leaving me! It tore me apart…because I just don’t understand after all these years how you can do it so easily…with a smile on your face.”

His breath hitches and he has to stop because he’s afraid his vocal chords will betray him if he continues any further. His eyes are burning from the built up tears he’s holding back and his hands tremble as they brace against his kneecaps. She sits there for a moment before she looks down. They are both quiet for a minute or two, until Joy laughs weakly.

She sniffles and runs her hand across her eyes, the way she always did when she was trying to manage her emotions. With her eyes hiding behind her hand she has enough courage to say, “And what, you think I’m not going to miss you?”

He looks up at her as she takes her hand away from her eyes. Her nose and cheeks are pink, tears spill over, and run down her cheeks dripping off her chin. Her lips are pulled into a very weak, small, and trembling grin.

“You’re my best friend Cassie,” she sniffles. “And it kills me to leave you here.” She looks down and shrugs, “I haven’t had a good night sleep since I told you I signed up. Of course I care about you, I care how this affects you…but just like how you needed to leave for college…I need to leave to do this.” She slowly looks up at him again. Her caramel eyes big and sad, showing all the hurt she’s hide from him.

His resolve breaks—big, round, fat tears roll down his cheeks as well. Within a second she’s in his arms, burying her head into his shoulder. He conceals his flushed face in her hair and holds her tighter than he ever has in his life. They sit like this for what feels like hours, when in reality it’s only a few minutes.

Joy sniffles and gives a watery laugh, “You’re such a dork-asourus-rex.”

He chuckles and he feels something bubbling in his stomach again…only this time he can’t make out what it is.

“I know you have to go,” he says into her curls. “I’m not trying to keep you here. I’m just…I’m so sorry.”

She sniffles and smiles into his shoulder. Her big sweet lump of dork. “It’s alright Casinator.” She pauses before asking quietly, “So you’re cool with the whole Peace Corp bizz?”

He lets out a sigh of relief and smiles weakly. “Of course Joy,” he lies.

He feels her relax in his arms. He smiles a little more as the tears continue to run down his cheeks. That was it. There it was. All fixed. They had reached a good stopping point, no need to continue forward. Everything that needed to be said, had been said…so why are his lips still moving?

“I love you, Joy.” He lets out like a flock of doves. His eyes widen a little as the bubbles in his stomach explode into butterflies, and he realizes those three words—for the first time in his life—he meant more than just the friendly, platonic way.

She pulls back just enough to turn her head to look at him, “I love you too, Cas.”

The butterflies spin into a hurricane in his gut. He’s had this feeling before with her…years ago…he had ignored it then, and he had assumed the feelings had been smothered out…It’s wrong! It’s wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! She’s his best friend! He shouldn’t feel this way about her! He knows she doesn’t feel that way about him. Why is this feeling coming back? He’s going to ask Martha out! Shouldn’t he be having this kind of feeling with her and not Joy?

Joy leans back a little more. She smiles and rests her forehead against his. Tear trails streak her pink cheeks and she takes a shaky inhale before she giggles a little.

“You just had to get all emotional right before I leave, didn’t cha Casanova?” She teases and sniffles a little.

 He chuckles a little and shrugs weakly, “S’rry, J-bird.”

She giggles again, “S’kay dork-a-doo.” She sniffles, “You know I’ll get sometime each week for video calls.” Her eyes brighten, “And! And, I get some time off!” She smiles, “Everyone normally saves their days off for a big Christmas Vakay, so I’ll be back in just a few months.”

He sniffles and smiles as steady as he can. “You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you,” he says his voice breaking a little—butterflies tickling his stomach as they flutter wildly.

Her caramel eyes soften and sparkle, and her bottom lip quivers a little, “And I you. Two years will go by fast. I’ll be back before you know it Cassie-role!”

He smirks a little and before he can think of what he should do or say next her lips on his. It’s a quick, sweet, chaste kiss and by the time his brain registers it, her lips are pulling away. Wake up stupid! He screams in his head when he feels her warm lips leaving his. Driven completely on primal impulse his lips follow hers, closing the distance again.

His eyes flutter closed as his strong lips crash with her soft ones. It’s a bit more heated than the one she granted him and he savors the sweet flavor of her bubblegum lip gloss. He’s so lost in its succulent taste that he almost doesn’t register that she’s not reacting. Reacting? Reacting! She’s not reacting! Abandon ship!!!

 Just as he’s about to pull away and dash out the room in a heated, flustered mess her lips press firmly against his. She pushes back with such force that their teeth clink together—needless to say, he’s a little surprised as she starts to take control. Her soft, plump, warm, lips curl around his hard slightly chapped ones. Her hands slip under his flannel and grip his t-shirt, pulling him closer to her. His hands drop from her back down to her waist, stations just above her ample bottom.

His heart leaps into a racing speed, pounding in his chest, his ears, his neck. His hands are beginning to tremble, as his tongue grazes hers. Their lips continue to entwine with each other and his mind goes completely blank when she moans into the kiss. Never once breaking the kiss she crawls into his lap, straddling him as he runs his one hand up her side and into her hair. Something deep inside him awakens, something that is almost Neanderthal-like. Something so primal, so feral, so aggressively sensual it sparks his brain into numbness.

If his eyes were open they would be dilated and a darker brown than before, as a hungry growl leaves his throat. He pushes back against her taking charge of their embrace. Gripping her tight he almost lifts her up in his lap, he’s not sure why he does this though. His body is not really connecting with his dead brain, his arms doing their own thing. The small lift he’s done she takes as a challenge—and if there’s one thing Joy loves more than art, it’s a heated challenge…especially if her challenger was Castel.

She runs her hand up into his hair, purposely knocking his cap off. Her purple colored fingernails running over his scalp—gently scratching in the most delightful way—as her fingers card through his mop of curls. Her hands make a new home at the base of his skull. She grips the hair on the back on his neck—in an almost painful way—and she pushes her chest hard against his. She pushes against him with so much power and force that he ends up falling onto his back on her bed. And now the two long time friends are in a heated battle for dominance over the kiss—neither willing to relent.

His heart goes into double time. She’s on top of him. She’s squirming as her legs wrap around his—and her merciless wriggling, causes him to have an involuntary reaction below his belt. He lets out a very animal-like assertive growl again; without opening his eyes he finds her wrists, twists his legs, and in one move he’s flipped them over. She yelps a little into the kiss, taken by surprise as he pins her to the mattress.

As more blood rushes south there is less in his brain, causing his thoughts to fog over again—an addicting intoxicating concoction of coconut and orchids surrounds him as he inhales her scent—but he manages to register her cry. Quickly, he moves his hands from her wrists, to rest on either side of her head instead. Her hands snake under his flannel and move up his back, until she’s reached his shoulder blades where she grips the material of his t-shirt.

He runs his one hand down her side, smiling into the kiss when his wandering hand hits that little sensitive spot just above her hipbone. She squeaks cutely and giggles a little, slightly bucking away from his tickling hand. But she moves back when his hand decides to rest on her hip.

She smirks into the kiss and decides, that even though it had been an accident, she wants to return to gesture. Sliding her one hand down, she brushes against his lowest rib with just enough pressure to tickle him briefly. He jolts a little and guffaws involuntarily, she snickers slightly and he growls deep within his throat. He wants a satisfying revenge and bites her bottom lip, dragging a desperate whimper out of her.

She growls a little as well and in defiant retaliation she not only bites back, but she also grinds her hips into his—as if the pressure his zipper is inflecting isn’t enough. She rolls her hips hard into him and the new pressure, combined with the pressure of his zipper peels a deep pleasured moan out of him.

Neither knows how long they’ve been in this heated entanglement, nor how long they would have stayed this way had they not been pulled back to reality by an echoing car horn. The horn blasts loudly and the two break apart immediately, both startled. They stare at each other; their expressions mimic the other’s.

Two pairs of wide eyes stare back at each other, mouths hanging agape as heavy labored breaths beat against the other’s chin. The fog in his brain disappears and his face burns red as he realizes the position he’s in. Fumbling limbs twist as he scrambles to the other side of the bed. They both sit opposite of each other, staring at each other in utter shock. Oh gosh. What. Did. They. Just. Do!?

They both look away from each other for a moment completely embarrassed, before their wide eyes lock again. As embarrassed as he is, his heart still crumbles at the look of pure horror in her eyes and the way her mouth still hangs open in shock, her face flushed a deep red color—most likely matching his.

They both jump when loud lyrics ‘She went down in an airplane, fried getting suntan! Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand! Help me, help me, I’m no good at goodbyes!’ are exploding into the air accompanied with a buzzing sound. They both look at each other another moment, before Joy blinks, shakes her head, and leans over the edge of the bed.

She picks her phone off of the floor and answers the call. Her face doesn’t lose its shocked expression nor the flushed complexion of her cheeks. Her eyes staying connected with the carpet, and her fingers rest against her swollen lips as she speaks.

“Hello?” She asks her voice shaking. “Oh. Alright. I’ll be…I’ll be down in a second.” She says panting a little.

She ends the call and takes a deep breath, before she stands up. “My taxi is here Cassie.”

 He clears his throat and watches her pick up her bags, “A-a-alright.”

They refuse to make eye contact with each other as she stands in front of him, rubbing the toes of her sneakers together. He waits a moment before he looks up at her. Her cheeks are still red, her hair is a little frizzy, her eyes still holding their horrified shock, her hand covering her swollen lips, and she’s breathing heavily.

His heart pounds harder as it shatters into pieces. What has he done to their friendship? From the tips of his ears, down his cheeks, and across his nose a burn covers his face, with a heat that feels like fire. Tears prick behind his eyes. He had fixed it. He had fixed it! And now…who knows if they can ever fix it again.

How could he do this to her!? Right before she leaves! Gosh, what is wrong with him!? Why did he have this sick impulse? For his best friend! Oh gosh, he’s gonna have a break down! If he thought, he was losing her to the Peace Corp? Ha! He’s lost her forever now. He’s sure of it.

“I’ve got to go Castel,” she says quickly her voice cracking on the second syllable of his name.

He bites his lip and looks down. He shouldn’t hug her. Not after that. He shouldn’t…but he wants to! He’s not going to see for two years! He has to do something! She’s going to leave! She’s going to be gone! She’s…she’s…

He takes a breath and stands up. He puts his hands in his pockets and hangs his head, “Good bye Joy.”

Tears well in her eyes and she takes a shuttered inhale, “Cassie…”

He looks up at her and their eyes meet. Her mouth hangs open, words catching in her throat. He opens his mouth, as well, trying to find something to say to her. Both of them fumbling as they’ve just crossed a huge line, into the most awkward area in their lives. Neither knowing what to say.

Joy takes a breath and goes to speak but a car horn cuts her off. They both look towards the window then back at each other. She closes her mouth into a weak smile.

“That’s my cue. I guess, I’ll see ya when I see ya…Casanova.” She says barley above a whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he trembles out and forces a smile. “See ya when I see ya…Jo-Jo.”

She nods and turns to leave, but stops short. She pivots on her heels, spins around, and throws her arms around him. He embraces her for the last time he’ll get to for many, many months. He holds her tight, relishing in the comforting warmth of her body, and the strength at which she holds him. He feels her move away and he pulls back to look at her.

 She smiles, “Love you Castel.”

 “Love you too Joy,” he smiles. “Stay safe.”

“Always dork-a-doo,” she winks and kisses his cheek.

And just like that it. She’s gone. All he did was blink. She pecked his cheek for less than a second, there was a wave of brown locks, and now he stands alone staring at the spot where she stood moments ago.

                                         What has he done?

==================

He lies in his bed now, staring up at ceiling. It’s late in the evening now…actually it may be early morning, he’s not sure. When I he got home after Joy left he locked himself in his room and tried to drown out his thoughts with electronics. But it was no use. He ended up replaying what happened over and over in his head. What came over him? Why would he do that? With Joy!

He watches his ceiling fan spin around on its lowest speed. He can’t sleep. He runs his tongue along his lips—her sweet taste still lingering in the most taunting way. He can’t stop it. He can’t stop thinking about it. Her sweet plump lips against his. Her body pressed so close to his. Her hands sliding over his body. Her hips rolling into his. The way she—No! Stop! Enough!

He growls audibly in frustration and covers his face with his hands. Gosh he’s sick! Why did these feeling come back? Why now!? He had buried these feelings years ago. What was he? Fourteen? Maybe fifteen when these feelings started creeping into his mind? Sure when he hit puberty he started having more…adult-like thoughts. And when he would crash and burn with trying to find a girlfriend, he had lonelier nights…

But when he turned fifteen his thoughts became more and more inappropriate. And not only were they becoming increasingly more inappropriate there were a few—okay maybe more than a few—nights he had fantasized about Joy. But in his defense, who else was there to fantasize about!? At the time he didn’t have a single shot with Martha and Joy is really the only other female in his life. But he knew it wasn’t right and he did everything he could do to force those thoughts out of his mind. He did everything he could think of! Cold showers, ignoring it, focusing on his marketing projects—or lack there of—anything he could think of. He resisted for as long as he could, but he’d break after so many nights. Since then he’s grown and has a stronger resolve. He’s managed to smother out those inappropriate thoughts of his best friend. And since things with Martha are picking up, he’s had someone else to haunt him on late nights.

But now…he doesn’t know what to make of all of this. All he can think of is the horror that filled her eyes when they broke apart. He huffs and drags his hands down his face. She will never speak to him again. He screwed up. He screwed up big time. Nice going Cubs! You couldn’t just focus on Martha could you!

He closes his eyes as the pricks return with a vengeance. She’s all he has. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fix this…but he has to. He has to! The fate of their friendship depends on him fixing it. She’s his best friend. He’d die for. He’d protect from anything, he always has. He’s always put her first, and things are not about to change now.

He was there for her boy crazy phase. And he was there when Brick broke her heart, and Marco…and Jake. Many nights were spent with ice cream, tissues, hugs, and words of how much he loved her and how stupid those guys were to give her up. And once she was feeling better he stayed to brighten her mood with Comedy movies to make her laugh and violent video games she could take her aggravations out on.

He was there for their adventures in the woods. He was there for all the silly fun games she’s make up for them to play. He was there to run through the field with her and roll down that enormous hill, countless times. He was there to help her across the river when they were kids and played in the woods. He was there to build and decorate their treehouse—their treehouse. He was there in the audience for all her plays. He was there for all her art shows. He was there when they fell out of that tree freshman year. He was there to grab her before they hit the ground so he’d take more of the damage—he ended up breaking his arm and his ankle, covered in cuts from the branches that scrapped him on the way down. While she limped away with her wrist twisted, lip bleeding, and a few bruises. He remembers, that summer they spent everyday watching Lion Fighter and Goofy Goons on the television, and how they had each drawn all over the other’s casts.

He promised himself he’d always be there for her. Protect her from anything and everything. That’s his job as her best friend. That’s his one job. One job. To always protect her from anything that could harm her…even if that thing is him.

He opens his eyes as he replays it again in his mind. But this time he catches something he didn’t before. She had kissed him back. She had kissed him first!…technically. But she was the one who made the kiss more heated first. She’s the one that turned it from an innocent smooch into an intense make out session. She crawled into his lap. She rolled their hips together. Not him! Maybe…could she…possibly be feeling the same as him?

He stares blankly up at the ceiling. No…no she couldn’t. That look of sheer terror in her eyes…that told him everything he needed to know. That look of panic was enough to dissolve any hope of her feeling the same way as him. It’s weird. Their friendship would be ruined…wouldn’t it?

He sighs audible and rolls onto his side, curling towards the wall. He closes his eyes, planning to will himself to sleep when his phone vibrates next to his pillow. He grumbles incoherent words and reaches back behind him. He grabs the rectangular device and taps the screen. He shoots to a straight sitting position when he sees her name on the screen. His heart leaps into his throat, pounding viciously. She had texted him! Probably the last text he’d hear from her in months! She had texted him!

Eager fingers slide the message open and his heart flies down into his gut when he sees it’s just a generic all message. It told everyone that she had landed safely and that she’d see them soon. She had sent it to everyone—family, friends, his family, and him. He wasn’t special. But, come on now, what did he expect? That she was texting him that she had changed her mind? That she wasn’t leaving? That she secretly loved him? That she was turning around to come be with him? Get real Cubs!

He flops back onto his bed. Protect her, yeah. Joy’s feelings before his own, he’s always been there for her and he always will be—as her friend. He’d protect her from everything…including his detrimental feelings. He needed to distance himself from Joy and his sick feelings for his friend. He needed a distraction. A type of distraction his projects would never provide. He needed…

His eyes fall onto his phone again. Fueled by an odd sense of courage he picks up the device and opens a new text message to Martha. She responds almost instantly. Surprised to find that she’s awake he starts up a conversation, like he always did since they’d been talking…but this time he has a goal. A goal he needs to reach tonight. After several text messages back and forth he’s built up enough courage to compose the bombshell question. He’s written and deleted and rewritten it so many time within the passed ten minutes. He stares at the words he’s got written on the screen. Taking a deep breath, he presses send. He holds his breath and waits for her response. After what feels like a millennia her response comes through.

He lets out a long sigh and smiles. After a few more texts she says she’s going to sleep, he agrees and wishes her a peaceful rest. He tosses his phone to the side and smiles up at the ceiling. The perfect distraction. The prefect way to banish his twisted feelings for Joy once and for all. His eyes flutter shut and his smile remains as he feels release.

 Tomorrow he’d be going on his first date with Martha.