#writing is therapy for knitting

[wellamarke]

Up to the Neck

For @cabinpressurechallenge Carolyn Month of May, year not relevant. Prompt 8: Winter, though the connection is rather blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

Also on AO3

•••

The blasted neckband is inside out. She must have cast it on wrong — a lumpy, unsightly caterpillar of stitches sticks out, all the way around, ruining an otherwise fairly decent effort. Carolyn curses, fingering the rows for the umpteenth time. She’s only two away from binding off. All today’s work, completely wasted.

She sets the knitting down in disgust. Why had she gone back to the infernal pastime in the first place? She had always resented it as a girl, the way her mother sat so primly in her armchair, modelling the pursuits of a good housewife for Ruth to lap up. The actual work itself - the turning of a glorified bit of string into something one could wear against the world - that was all right. But the idea that it was somehow proper and feminine to do so, that was ghastly.

Ironic, then, that she should be back to it now, of all times. But when one is being fussed over daily by doctors who act as though thirty-four is the height of antiquity, one looks around for something one can get away with doing, with achieving, that can’t be taken away with a “tut tut” and a “won’t you think of the child?”

She thinks of the child now. Poor little mite. Born in the dead of winter to a mother who can’t so much as knit a nice warm jumper without messing it up.

Carolyn picks up the work again. She is moments away from sliding the first of the five needles out to pull the entire neckband loose when the door of her bedroom opens.

“Only me,” says the unmistakably irritating voice of her older sister, poking her head around the door in a pretence of decorum before barging in, as she had so obviously intended to do all along. “How’s the patient?”

“I’m not ill,” Carolyn points out.

“You know what I mean, Carol.”

“Carol-yn.”

Ruth ignores the correction, as usual. “I brought round a casserole. Gordon must need a feed-up, with you on bed rest.”

Gordon isn’t the one creating an entirely new human being, Carolyn observes inwardly. Out loud, because she is grateful, she says, “Thank you.”

“Oh, and there’s this.” Ruth swings her shoulder-bag around to reach inside, and brings out a green-and-white striped romper suit. Hand-made, of course, and almost certainly without flaw. “Saw the pattern in Woman’s Day and couldn’t resist.”

“Thank you,” Carolyn parrots. It’s extremely tedious of Ruth to keep doing this. When had they ever been about favours and presents and twice-weekly check-ins? Certainly Carolyn had never done that with any of Ruth’s pregnancies. Which makes it all that much worse, obviously. “It’s lovely,” she admits, still holding the romper. “It must have taken you an age.”

“Not really,” Ruth says, infuriatingly. “A couple of evenings, perhaps. Baby things are always quick. Makes a nice change from football jerseys.”

Before Carolyn can reply, Ruth’s eyes fall on the poor old jumper. “Oh, what’s this? You’ve been busy too.”

It’s startling how quickly Carolyn can go back to feeling like a five-year-old as soon as Ruth’s eyes are trained on something she’s tried to do. It could be the most perfectly crafted thing in the world and her skin would still be crawling at this moment.

“Oh, isn’t this sweet. Lovely colour, too.”

The red wool had simply been the closest to the front of the shelf, and bending down to rummage further back is not Carolyn’s current favourite hobby. Ruth doesn’t need to know that.

“Pity about the neckband. I could fix that for you, if you want. Wouldn’t take long. I can do it right now.”

“No,” Carolyn snaps. Surprising even herself with the fast movement, she snatches the poor little jumper back from her sister. “It’s fine. I’m keeping it like that.”

Ruth looks pityingly at her. “But you’ve cast the neck on the wrong way round.”

“I know.”

“And it wouldn’t take long to redo it. You were probably holding it inside out when you picked up the stitches.”

“I know. But I like it like this.”

“Well— but why? It looks… funny.”

“The baby won’t mind.”

Ruth rolls her eyes. “It’s not about the baby, though, is it.”

“Yes it is. Who else would it be about?”

She huffs. “You are impossible sometimes.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“If you won’t let me fix it, you could at least pull it back yourself. It really wouldn’t take long at all.”

Funny to think that a microsecond before Ruth had arrived, she’d been about to do just that, but now she would sooner die. “I think it gives it character,” Carolyn says. Goodness knows, if there’s one thing this child will need, growing up in this house, it’s that.

“Well, have it your way.”

“Thank you. I shall.”

Ruth looks at her, and after a moment, smiles. It’s unexpected and unnerving. Carolyn looks down at the two pieces of baby clothing, suspended on top of her bump in lieu of there being a lap to put them on. Not long now, and there’ll be a real little person wearing these. Green and white romper for grand days out, and funny little red jumper with its mistakes and character for walks in the park and watching the ducks.

“I asked Gordon if anything needed doing around the house,” Ruth remarks, “But he seemed not to know what I meant. I presume you’ll be unhelpful if I ask for a list.”

“On the contrary,” Carolyn replies, “If you want to do housework, have yourself a merry time.”

“All right, then.”

“It’s all so silly, you know. I’m only a little older than you were with Keith.”

“He was my third, though. They get ever so funny with your first. And I didn’t… have any of that business.”

“No.”

Terrifying pools of red in the morning. Even Gordon had been a little rattled then. Not his precious heir, not after he’d put up with her being enormous for months.

“Ah well,” Ruth says. “Soon be over. Or soon be starting, I should say.”

Carolyn hums in agreement. It still seems a funny image - herself with a baby. Gordon with a baby. Herself and Gordon with a baby that’s theirs. It’s one of those things that happens to other people, to be walked past at speed.

“Right. I’ll leave you to it, then. Shout if you want anything.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

“Don’t mention it.” The response is automatic, and muffled in any case by the door that closes on it.

After a little while, Carolyn picks up the jumper. She smiles at it ruefully. Ruth is right, obviously. She really should just pull the whole thing off and start the neck again.

“I hope you’re not as stubborn as me,” she remarks to the baby, as she plants the needle into the next stitch nonetheless. “Or we’ll be in for a real time of it.”

[pedgito]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 | Cowboy!Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Through all of his supposed wrong-doing, Joel has never failed you. Alternatively, falling in love with your dad's enemy while he shows you your full potential.

author's note | this is for @kedsandtubesocks's wild ride writing challenge! i struggled with this for a while, but ultimately erika and @hauntedhowlett helped me settle on something after sitting on the struggle bus for longer than i liked. this is all unbeta'd so please go easy on me dsjhkg

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, rodeo cowboy!joel, dbf but they're rivals now, forbidden love, hefty age gap (early 20s, late 40s), daddy issues, switches between present/flashbacks (all titled to differentiate), joel strolling around shirtless in a cowboy hat, mentions of injuries from riding, angst/internal conflict, fluff, smut (inappropriate use of a barstool), joel's such a loverboy

word count — 7.5k

Austin, Texas — Present Day: 

The energy in the stadium is inconceivable.

Austin always had amazing crowds during rodeo season, especially with such a close-knit community of people supporting a passion many have attempted to pursue. For you, it was in your blood, riding on the coattails of your father, you were saddled on a horse before you could even speak full sentences.

You can hear the deep, roaring chants as you stand steadily in the waiting pen, eyes locked on the television as the words echo in your ear, a faint smile growing on your face as you feel the solid press of his hand against your back.

 Joel.

It was a year of tireless dedication to get you back on a horse, somehow managing to entangle yourself in his grasp in more ways than you can explain—he wasn’t just a partner, he was your lover, a confidant, and the only person that could ease the quickly growing nerves.

“Like ridin’ a bike,” He says with an ease that comes natural to his voice, hand climbing up to settle against the back of your neck with a reassuring squeeze, “what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“What if she gets startled?” You ask absently, the accident flashing through your mind in snapshots, the subtle twinge of pain in your knee that came and went when it felt like it.

“All she needs is you,” Joel reminds you, “s’never been a time I’ve seen her freak out when she’s got you on her back and you know it.”

Honey had been with you since you were a young girl, a trust built through years of connection and care, having practiced the art of non-verbal communication, you knew there was nothing to worry about, but the fear still lingered.

Joel’s Ranch, One Year Ago — Flashback:

Joel can see the way your hands shake, attempting to grasp the reins a few times with a clammy grip, over-adjusting yourself on the horse he’s ridden for many years, even into retirement. Buttercup was docile but strong and he’s attentive to Joel’s instruction, a rub over his snout as he attempted to reassure you.

It was your first time back on a horse since your accident, months of recuperating on Joel’s ranch with the help of him and his brother Tommy, working through doctor’s visits and physical therapy alongside two men who weren’t your father, but had filled the hole enough that you didn’t have to suffer through your injury alone.

“We’re just doing a few laps and getting a feel on things,” Joel reminds you, “I’m not pushin’ you and I’m not gonna let you push it too soon—what’s your number today?”

You bend and stretch your leg hesitantly, a subtle movement as Joel’s hand rests just above the thick band of your jeans, your face contorting in slight discomfort.

“Five…six,” You say indecisively, looking down at Joel.

“So, an eight,” He surmises with a smile, “alright—just a few laps and we’ll work from there.”

It was a step forward, fearful that you might never ride again. 

But, Joel follows you around the ring from start to finish.

He promised in the beginning that he wouldn’t leave your side and he hasn’t lied once.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

While dressage started their run, you and Joel slipped off into a dressing room to watch the show and deal with the insistence from Joel that you shouldn’t ride on an empty stomach.

You picked at the food sparingly though, still feeling rattled by the energy in the arena.

Joel’s presence comes from behind, palms spread over the arms of your chair as he leans his chest into your back, lips brushing against your ear in an endearing manner, a ghost of his breath against the side of your face as he presses a gentle kiss against your neck.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "You're going to be amazing out there, baby. I believe in you."

You lean back into his warmth, letting out a shaky breath. His arms encircle you, strong and comforting. "I'm just so nervous," you whisper.

Joel turns your face with his fingers at your chin. His eyes, filled with tenderness, meet yours. 

"Remember why you started riding in the first place? That freedom? The connection?"

You nod and his hand flattens against the side of your neck and you tilt your chin up expectantly, eager for a kiss that never comes, instead he chuckles and placates you with another kiss to your cheek.

“No distractions,” He chastises, “I meant that.”

You pout for a brief moment but relent, knowing that you needed a clear head and Joel would give you anything but with how easily he’s clouded your thoughts in the past several months.

Joel’s Ranch, Six Months Ago — Flashback:

When it happens, you aren’t expecting it.

Neither is Joel, which makes the entire situation unfold faster than you’re capable of processing.

The storm rolled in without warning, the wind picking up like someone had flipped a switch. 

But, the lighting strikes unexpectedly from the right and downfield with not a drop of rain in sight.

It startles everyone, but especially Buttercup, Joel’s horse. It was quick buck, with Joel’s hands on your waist luckily, so the decent is smooth but the impact isn’t as graceful as you would have liked while Joel’s horses thrashes wildly until he can calm him down, moving you a safe distance away before he can eventually get Buttercup tucked away in the stables and return to you, jogging toward you as the rain began to mist.

As Joel approaches, his eyes lock with yours, concern etched across his features. 

The misting rain clings to his cheeks, making them glisten in the fading light. He reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping your face. Thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with worry.

You nod, unable to speak as you realize how close he is. 

It’s never been like this, even in the moments of physical therapy and joint dinners with him and his brother—Joel had always been careful about being respectful and keeping his distance.

Joel was prominent in your childhood, weekend dinners with him and his daughters after the death of your mother—it was all a blur now, most of it buried away and forgotten. But, there was an eventual blow-up with your father and then he was gone. 

You’d see him on television and around town when shows were happening and he had a break from his extensive tour through different states, having turned his professional career into entertainment both out of a need for change and necessity.

He constantly remained out of reach, but with your injury and his willingness to yield to you when you needed someone in your life the most, he had stepped in. It made you feel like that little girl again, scraping your knee on the ground and crying for help, but instead of your dad it was Joel and the floating feeling in your stomach wasn’t because he was comforting you, but because he was touching you and neither of you had the courage to speak on it.

He’s never touched you like this. He wouldn’t. 

Joel’s always been careful—too careful.

"I'm fine," you assure him, but your voice trembles slightly. Joel kneels closer, his warmth enveloping you despite the cool rain. His hands find your shoulders, steadying you, “Joel—I swear, I’m okay.”

“M’so sorry, sweetheart,” He apologises despite no wrongdoing, “I should’ve checked the weather or at least held on a little tighter,”

You look up into his eyes, seeing the genuine worry there, and something else – something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. "It's not your fault," You insist, blinking away the rain from your lashes before Joel is helping you to your feet, his touch never once leaving your body.

The rain is falling harder now, but neither of you can find the urgency to move.

Joel's hands slide down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat, coming out in a desperate attempt to clear the swell as you make a small, weak noise that seems to break him from his trance.

“Let’s get you dry,” He nods toward the house, grateful for the deflection as you turn, but his hand is still pressed firmly against your back as you both walk toward the door, like he’s too scared to let go - like you were too fragile to leave on your own.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Honey nuzzles into your chest before nibbling at the apple in your palm, always rigid about the time you spent with her before your shows, a moment of quiet and connection that strengthens the bond.

She was full of personality, leaning into the gentle touch you apply to her snout as you rub your hand up and into her mane, a small push into your ribs as she hears Joel approach.

Your heart swells with affection as you lean into Honey's warmth, savoring the sweet moment. 

Joel's footsteps draw near, but you're reluctant to break the spell. 

You press a soft kiss to Honey's velvety nose, whispering words of love and gratitude. As Joel appears, his eyes meet yours and a tender smile spreads across his face. He understands the depth of your connection with Honey, having witnessed your bond grow over countless shows and quiet moments like this. Even when you were much younger and Honey was twice the size she is now.

Your father had purchased her when Joel was meeting Buttercup, how the girls had hounded him over the responsibility to name his horse. He wouldn’t admit how much he liked it, either.

"You two are inseparable," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as you both stroke Honey's mane, "I swear, sometimes I think you love that horse more than me."

You laugh, giving your horse one last pat before turning to Joel. "Are you jealous?" 

Your head tilts, eyes as wide and vulnerable as they always were with him.

“Not when you look at me like that,” Joel explains, his hand cupping your chin as his thumb rubs against the point of it, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards as Joel mirrors that same admiration, a playful glint in his eyes as you pucker your lips and kiss his thumb, keeping your eyes on him, “boy, you are really pushin’ it today.”

It was silly to think about now, but a few months prior Joel wouldn’t even allow himself to touch you like this, despite the clear indication of how you felt and how he had ultimately fallen first, too scared to admit that he’d fallen for his old friend’s daughter, knowing your father despised everything that Joel was, it was a maze he didn’t know how to navigate.

He still felt lost on most days.

Joel’s Ranch, Five Months Ago — Flashback:

Mornings were sacred on Joel’s ranch - a beautiful sunrise etched out over the hills and through the trees, animals rousing from their sleep, and a silence that reminded you of a simpler time.

Usually you found Joel up this early, nursing a mug of coffee in his hands as rocked in the old chair on his porch, eventually finding the courage to join him after a while, when it didn’t hurt to bend down to his level, taking a seat on the deck near his legs and sipping at your own drink of choice, talking through your pain level on whatever particular day it was.

Your fondness has grown over shared meals and proximity; seclusion, too.

It was you and him, months alone aside from Tommy’s occasional visit.

Maybe it was inevitable—that your injury served a purpose.

You always tried to find a reason to excuse your own mistake, a moment of hesitation that cost you an entire year of your newfound career, excitedly filling in for Joel in his departure. 

It couldn’t have been for nothing.

You felt her heart skip a beat as his footsteps approached, his gaze warm as it descended upon you, peering over your shoulder to be met with a tired smile.

The morning sunlight caught the silver in his hair, and you found herself admiring the lines around his eyes - evidence of a life filled with both laughter and hardship.

"Good mornin’," Joel's voice was a low rumble, softened by the early hour, “something botherin’ you?”

“Why do you ask?” You chirp with a soft laugh, narrowing your gaze in a manner to intimidate. 

Joel smirks half-heartedly, “It’s a good place to think,” He notes, “so—what is it?”

“Can I ask about my dad?” You start hesitantly, not sure how sore of a subject it was for him.

“Whaddya wanna know, sugar?”

“I want your side,” You wanted honesty, not half-truths, “did you cut him out of the deal?”

“He cut himself out,” Joel explains without skipping a beat, “we were partners for a long time, couldn’t have imagined doin’ all I did without him before he turned on me, but it was good money, security—it put Ellie and Sarah through college.

“He’s a sell-out,” If there was any time for your father to disparage Joel Miller, he would, “runnin’ off to Florida and taking some big deal, that shit ain’t right—it’s selfish.”

Joel had never meant to turn his career into entertainment, competing in circuits at a professional level before his body started to take a toll, eventually earning the Old Timer moniker and booking shows around the surrounding cities of Texas before touring the country.

If you were involved in rodeo, or even caught a whiff of it in the media, you knew who the Old Timer was. And even with him gone, you can feel your father looming.

The echoing mantra of his words in your head as you remember watching Joel perform with Buttercup, a long-established Bronc with his own exuberant personality to match Joel’s more subdued one, a perfect balance. 

Ain’t nothing out there you won’t experience here in Austin. 

You weren’t sure where the animosity stemmed from until now—it was a clear path he had pictured for himself and you, riding out the rest of your career in Texas, even as you were starting to climb the ladder as one of the more notorious female riders, still just a whisper for most people, living in the shadow of your father for so long.

“He’s stuck in his ways and that’s not sayin’ I’m any different, but I don’t regret signing that deal for a better way of livin’—a easier way, it got me all of this,” He throws his arms out lazily, property that stretched for miles, a place where he’s come to offer a camp for young riders to learn the ropes and get comfortable around the animals in a safe environment.

But, it was also home.

It was a surprise waking up one morning to a yard full of kids, a handful no older than ten or eleven, showing how easily Joel molded into the teaching role in such a relaxed environment.

You weren’t sure if that was when your feelings for him had evolved or if it was during the early weeks of being injured when Joel would sit with you bedside almost every night, either reading or working on his crosswords like it was religion, glasses perched on his nose as he moved with every subtle twitch you would make, worry etched on his face.

It was a mix of both and more, countless times you’ve found yourself at a loss for words.

“If he knew,” You pause, chewing at your bottom lip with worry, “if he knew—that I was here, that I turned down his help to come to you, Joel, I don’t know how he would react,”

“There ain’t a single reason he needs to know,” Joel assures you, “I’m sure he’s said a lot about me and some of it is probably true, but you deserve a place you feel safe.”

You nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. 

Joel's words sink in, and you realize just how much you needed to hear them. The weight of your father's expectations, his dreams for your future, had been suffocating you for far too long.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft whinnying of horses in the nearby stables, and your words linger, like you’re holding back, “I do—I do feel safe…”

Joel hums, turning his body toward you more, his elbow meeting the railing of the ring.

“But?”

“You have to know,” You begin, heart constricting with nerves, a surge of adrenaline rushing through your veins as Joel looks at you, all of you, that familiar full body glance that you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing, “it’s more than just safety, Joel.”

"I reckon I do know," he says, his voice low and gravelly, still thick from sleep. "Been knowin' for a while now."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility. Uncertainty.

“I feel stupid,” You laugh away the sudden embarrassment, face heating as the silence grows, “fuck I’m—I’m only a couple years older than the girls and you were helping me with my math homework while trying to teach them how to tie their shoes. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Seems to me like you’re an adult capable of making her own choices,” Joel decides.

You feel a flutter in your chest at Joel's words, at the implicit acceptance in them. 

Your eyes meet his, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but you find only warmth and a hint of something deeper, enticingly haunting.

"I've been making my own choices for a while now," you say softly, not realizing the instinctual gravitation toward him until his chest is pressing into your shoulder. "Some good, some...not so good. But, coming here? It was the first choice I’ve made for myself that felt right."

“It always needs to feel like that, sweetheart.”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Joel tightens the belt at your waist, the leather stiff from lack of wear. You’ve only worn the uniform a few times for fittings, a brightly colored shirt and riding pants to match, which were still hung on the rack behind Joel. 

He takes a moment to tug at the leather to assure it was secure before he drops down to his knees, catching you by surprise with a bubble of laughter slipping past your lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

He shrugs, pressing featherlight kisses along the top of your thigh while his hand drags along the back, hooking behind your right leg as he brings your knee to his mouth, his lips pressing over the jagged but healed scar.

You find yourself overcome with unexpected emotion, throat burning with the threat of impending tears, the moment holding still as Joel looks up at you.

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

It was intended to be a simple task, filling the troughs with water as you both lugged the buckets to each individual pen, narrowly escaping Joel’s increasingly boyish behavior as he fills the trough up halfway before he’s tossing the rest of the water at you, gasping at the cold, frigid temperature of it.

“You ain’t smiled today,” Joel reminds you, suddenly sheepish as you realize how big the grin on your face has grown, wasting the rest of the water to return the wet favor, tossing the bucket on the floor before you decide to make a run for the house nearly at the door before you slip on a slick spot of mud.

Squealing, your arms flail out—you accept your fate, arms bracing behind you as you wait for the impact, but instead you’re caught by two thick arms wrapping under and around you and your breath catches as you find yourself pressed against Joel's broad chest, his strong arms holding you securely.

Your heart races with an anxious stir of emotions, interlaced with excitement, suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. Joel aids you back to your feet, shoving him away playfully as you snake your way out of his arms, trying your hardest to seem upset even though you weren’t.

“Careful,” Joel warns, “can’t have you injuring yourself any worse, you’ll be takin’ up a permanent residence here.

“Would it be so bad?” You ask curiously, a hint of teasing to your tone, “I think you like the idea of keeping me here, all to yourself.”

His eyes echo his earlier words. Careful.

The restraint he shows day by day amazes himself with how hard you’ve tried to break him down, some guilt surrounding his own growing feelings, ashamed with how strong they’ve become.

“Where’s your manners, anyways?” You ask, “You get a girl all wet and you can’t even invite her to dinner or kiss her first? And I thought you were a gentleman.”

Joel wasn’t intimidated by much in his life, but the way you see straight through him with ease—he’s helpless under your gaze, the grin on your face that follows is tortuous to his psyche.

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself, Joel,” You tease, poking at the damp fabric stuck to his chest, his eyes following the movement as you pull away and turn toward the house, “I’m just fucking with you.”

Joel snaps then, pulling at your wrist with a gentle tug, “Now, you ain’t gotta be so crude all the time, mouth like that’ll get you in trouble,”

Like this?

Joel sees the smug expression as it sneaks onto your features, his grip climbing higher until you’re at the lip of his front door and he’s got you crowded, pressing into the flimsy screen as he noses at your cheek like a wolf sniffing out prey, violently aware of how your hand squeezes into his wet shirt and pulls him closer.

“Just kiss me,” You plead, “fuck—please. Just do it.”

It was a craving so unnatural you ache, in your gut and chest, lips parting as your chin lifts in an effort to chase his hesitance. You’ve both been dancing around this for weeks.

Joel's resolve crumbles, his self-control shattering like glass.

With a low growl, he captures your lips in a hurried kiss, weeks of pent-up desire pouring out in a single, passionate moment. His calloused hands frame your face, holding you steady as he deepens the kiss, tongue seeking entrance between your lips.

And you melt instantly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. It was everything you needed.

Rough but tender, his soft lips against your own with the satisfying scratch of his overgrown beard that tickled your cheeks and nose, hiccuping a breath into the kiss as he tilts your head up to meet his hungry mouth, each press more insatiable than the last. 

When you finally part, both panting for air, Joel rests his forehead against your own and allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment as you giggle, shaking slightly in his hold.

“Now, was that so hard?”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s got you imprisoned this way—body and soul, your hand shifting to rest at the crown of his head, curling into his hair, another gentle kiss before he’s leaning his cheek against the inside of your thigh and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“You plan on stayin’ down there, cowboy?”

Joel chuckles, shifting to hide his face into your thigh.

It’s a gentle tickle, his mouth against your skin, but it brings you immense comfort.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” You remind him, eyeing the clock overhead, “I think we can manage.”

He shakes his head with relaxed defiance, groaning quietly as he pushes to his feet again.

“Right—right, later. No distractions,” You repeat his earlier words, followed by a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re not making it easy, you know?”

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

Joel’s got you on a strict schedule lately once you’re cleared for training—breakfast, a workout, practice, lunch, repeat, only a few months out until your inevitable return and he’s hammering the routine into your brain, which you appreciate, but a break would be nice.

The run-through was flawless this evening and you retired earlier, savoring the burning heat of water as it melted over your skin, dressed in a loose shirt and panties as you searched through your messy suitcase of clothes and the pile that has grown over time with your extensive stay, down on your knees.

It wasn’t always this easy, depending on Joel for nearly everything in the beginning of your stay.

He was showering in his room simultaneously, or so you thought.

Joel spotted your hat about halfway through the living room, resting on a post outside.

His chest is still wet, jeans unbuttoned but snug on his hips as he strolled barefoot outside and retrieved the item, knowing that you hardly parted with it, it was a strange sight.

You pause in your rummaging, sensing a presence behind you moments later.

Turning, your breath catches at the sight of Joel standing in your doorway, hat balanced on his head as he leaned against the frame and smiled, the muscles in his arms conforming to the stretch and pull as he crossed them, tanned skin glistening with the few droplets of water still lingering.

“Found your hat,” Well, one could only suspect.

You stand slowly, acutely aware of how little you're wearing. "Thanks," you murmur as you make your way toward him, reaching for the hat. Your fingers brush as he hands it over, his own molding around the crown of the hat, bottom side up.

Joel doesn’t let go immediately like you’re anticipating, “I think you deserve a weekend off,”

“No,” You argue instantly, “I’m finally getting comfortable with the routine, I don’t need a day off.”

Joel’s face scrunches up in with a lack of belief in you words, tilting his head with narrowing gaze, “Now, that’s something only a person who needs a day off would say,”

“Joel, no,” You put your foot down, finally prying his fingers away from the hat, seeking a few inches of space from his bare chest and the unbearable heat that radiates from his frame.

While your admission of feelings had led him to be less reserved with the way he approached your or talked, more touchy during practice and at night while you both cuddled up on the couch and watched some old western you could care less about—Joel really loved them, though, so that had to count for something.

He makes you nervous, anticipatory of his next move, waiting for him to put your misery and break the metaphorical seal over your relationship—if you could even call it that, but it never happened. It would have to be you, a choice you made entirely on your own.

Your heart races as you take a step back, clutching the hat to your chest like a shield.

Joel's eyes follow your movement, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face before he schools his expression back to that easy, warm smile. It’s subtle, but there.

"I get it," Joel levels, "You're afraid of losing momentum.”

You shrug, unsure if that was fully true.

“C’mon,” Joel beckons, uncrossing his arms to offer his hand, your eyes following it with hesitance.

Joel chuckles to himself and pulls the hat from your grip before placing it on your head, fingers circling your wrist before they trail toward your hand and lead you toward the kitchen, through his expansive living room until he’s guiding you toward one of the few barstool, silently ordering you to sit down.

Almost immediately, he squats behind the island to rummage through the liquor collection he kept stored away for the occasional celebration or nightcap, avoiding it mostly out of preference while you trained, but he’s sliding a glass of whiskey over before you can fully piece together what he’s doing, rounding the counter with his own glass in hand.

“Happy early birthday to me, I guess,” You joke before taking a small sip of the whiskey, knowing your 22nd birthday was on the horizon but enjoying the reaction as Joel’s face contorts through phases—first confusion, then fear, before he’s attempting to pull the glass from your grip as he realizes his mistake

You giggle and stretch the glass out of reach, “Oh, calm down—I’m old enough to drink, Joel. Old age is really getting to you, isn’t it? I didn’t celebrate last year because I was so focused on the show, but we all know how that turned out,”

“You’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?” Joel asks, downing the rest of the liquid in one go.

He’s drifted closer now, palm pressed into the counter beside your arm, his free hand rising up to tip the brim of your hat up, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth with an impish gaze.

“I’m just so young and impressionable,” You feign innocence, “I blame you.”

Joel's eyes darken, a mix of amusement and something more intense swirling in the depths of brown. Holding his eyes, you slide the glass against the counter and reach for your hat before placing it back on his head, a little on the snug side but still wearable.

“Kinda like it on you better,” You decide, adjusting the brim before your fingers trail toward his shoulders and settle there, feeling the muscle underneath twitch as he laughs, though you find yourself deadly serious and sincere, no longer meeting his eyes as yours trail toward the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, a solid wall of muscle follow—Joel wasn’t defined, but he was large, intimidatingly so. When he wasn’t riding, he was building, working with his hands, lifting and moving things around the ranch, it was mouthwatering to watch.

“Eyes up, sugar,” He warns, not realizing how dangerously low your hands had trailed before your fingers were folding over the open seam of his jeans and how blatantly obvious it was that Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath and how his cock had swelled slightly with your proximity and innocent touches.

You feel a rush of excitement as your fingers brush against the warm skin just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Joel's breath hitches, his hand moving to grip your wrist firmly.

“But, you’re—”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, “Can’t help that part—bein’ around you ain’t easy lately.”

In any other circumstance you would take those words harshly, but you can see the pain on his face, the self-restraint he’s holding himself to.

“I can—we can,” You offer, legs spreading on their own as you turn toward him, fitting him between your thighs as you lean into him, “I mean—it isn’t like you’ll be stealing my virtue. I’m not that innocent, Joel.”

Joel's grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. 

You can see the conflict in his eyes—desire warring with his sense of propriety.

Impatient, you surge upwards, pressing your lips against his with a hunger he hasn’t seen from you before, taking advantage of his parted mouth and dragging your tongue across his top lip, feeling the restrain in the way he kisses you back subdued with his hesitant touch.

“Think about—what you’re—askin’ for,” Joel interrupts through hurried kisses, his hand curling around the side of your neck to push you back, “What this’ll mean for you.”

“I think you should fuck me,” You respond crudely, “besides—you kissed me first.”

His resolve wavers, and you seize the opportunity. 

Your free hand slides up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Joel's eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft groan escaping his lips at the indecent sight of you looking up at him, lips parted on a breath and eyes wide with desire.

Joel never made great choices, only what felt right in the moment.

And somehow, it has led him here.

“We shouldn’t,” He says softly, “s’just another distraction.”

“My mind has never been more clear, Joel,” You argue.

Joel’s resistance is weakening quickly and with a low growl, he’s capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to grip your hip with a natural possessiveness, the same touch he lends while you’re riding, not an entirely different circumstance, but the intention is loud. You moan into his mouth, arching against him as his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, flicking at the hat, your laugh breaking through the tension as Joel parts for a brief second, watching your fingers fold around the hem of your shirt, “help me?”

It’s devious, you know, he knows it. 

But, he listens.

The moment your shirt is thrown to the floor, Joel’s jaw slackens.

Instinctually, his thumb drifts over your nipples, circling the areola before he’s using the full expanse of his grip to cup your breasts, maneuvering the barstool until you’re leaning against the marble top, his lips latching onto your skin, tongue alternate as they circle the sensitive buds.

He’ll repent later, much later.

A gasp escapes you when he grazes his teeth against your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your body.

"Joel," you breathe, arching into his touch. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, hesitance out the window and replaced with newfound confidence.

His hands slide down your sides, rough calluses catching on your soft skin as he explores every inch of you. When his fingers reach the waistband of underwear, he pauses, looking up at you for guidance and surety. 

You nod eagerly, lifting your hips in time with his tug, pulling the damp fabric down your legs and leaving you bare. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Joel's eyes rake over your naked form, hunger evident in his eyes.

And you learn quickly that his skilled hands and fingers aren’t entirely for show, two fingers to start as they push inside of your cunt, head tilted back into his empty hand as he watches you carefully - the quickened breath as he curls his fingers, eyes fluttering shut when he reaches a sensitive spot deep inside of you, gasping for air while he brushes it once, twice, until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, crying out his name until you come over his fingers, the butt of his palm pressed against your clit for added measure.

“She loves me, don’t she?” Joel teases, the gall of that man.

You offer a pathetic sound of acknowledgement, Joel's eyes never leaving your face as you come undone, drinking in every gasp and shudder. As your climax subsides, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. His tongue darts out, cleaning up the mess you’ve made, his chest rumbling with a deep groan.

You’ve had enough.

You reach for his jeans, fumbling weakly as you push them down, desperate for as much of him as you could consume—all of him, preferably.

His arousal is evident as you rid him of his jeans, watching as he kicks away the tangled mess to fit himself between your spread legs, his cock bobbing freely against his stomach, thick and heavy against your thigh as you pull him closer. You wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily.

"I’m good," You assure him without elaborating, guiding him towards your entrance—you could talk later, too desperate to feel him inside of you.

Joel hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes. Whatever he sees seems to convince him, both of your breaths holding as he presses inside with slow, hesitant thrusts.

The sensation steals your words, knowing just by the sight of him that it would be pushing what you were used to, and no fumbling hands either, sure in every touch he laid upon you.

The way he squeezed at your hip and curled his other hand around the back of your neck, protecting you from the hard edge of the counter before he’s slinging your arms over his neck and nearly knocking the barstool to the floor as he leans into you, his hips picking up in their intensity as he listens to your body and your voice, distant and soft but there, floating in some ethereal plane of pleasure.

Your fingers dig into Joel’s shoulders, moaning at how he fills you in the most satisfying way, amiss to the bite of the counter in your back as the chair creaks and rocks with Joel’s hurried movement, breath hot against your neck where he’s buried himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” He sighs, mouthing his way to your ear, hissing at the sting of your grip and with that his thrusts become deeper, more forceful— each one pushing you further over the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Joel’s lips find yours frantically, in desperation as he groans, a low rumble that seeps into your own mouth, “Gonna gimme one more,” He tells you,

You nod fervently, barely able to form words as Joel's movements grow more insistent.

His hand slips between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with a precision that leaves you breathless. The dual sensations of his thick length filling you and his skilled touch on your clit quickly push you towards the precipice.

“Good, good,” He coos, soothing your weak cries with his mouth as your voice muffles under his guise, kissing you soundly, “go on—let go for me,”

His words push you over the edge and you come undone while Joel follows, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural moan, coming forceful and deep, fucking his spend deeper inside of you as reality resurfaces too soon.

“You alright?” Joel asks almost immediately, slipping out of you with a soft grunt.

The barstool creaks ominously as you adjust yourself and Joel chuckles.

“Probably not the sturdiest spot for that,” He jokes, thankful for the levity as he helps you stand, unsteady on your legs and held up by his firm grip, “I’m blamin’ you for that one.”

The grin it brings out of you is worth the slight discomfort you feel.

You shrug, nonchalant and admit defeat, “Guilty,”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s not supposed to be here.

There was always a plan, something tucked away in his back pocket.

This time it was the element of surprise and a mix of fear, eyes landing on him for the first time since he rushed onto Joel’s property, half-cocked and throwing out demands where he had no position or right.

He knows what he’s doing, eyes locked with yours from several feet away.

“Guest speaker?” Joel asks, the words biting as they leave his mouth, “Seriously?”

“It’s okay,” It was a mantra to yourself mostly, but Joel hears you, “I know what he’s trying to do—it won’t work.”

“You say the word, I’ll take care of it,” Joel promises.

You smirk slightly, rubbing your hand against his cheek and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“Easy, cowboy,” You offer lightheartedly, “I can handle myself.”

Joel’s Ranch, Two Months Ago — Flashback: 

You knew he’d figure it out eventually.

For a while he believed the lie—that you had been transferred to a beautiful place in Florida that dealt with injury and rehabilitation for your line of work and he accepted that, kept his distance.

He almost followed through on his reconciliation with Joel, that is, until he sees you at his side.

It was such a natural moment for the both of you now, Joel’s arm slung around your waist as he pulled you in, lips pressing against your temple before you both called it for the day, Honey’s head slipping between your hands as she noses at your head, suddenly whining at the shadowed intruder as he grew close.

At the sound of his voice, you fade away. 

You’re still here, standing, but Joel’s protectiveness jumps out instantly.

The words were loud and harsh, but the moment you snap back is as your father’s hand squeezes at your bicep and yanks you forward, immediately met with resistance. 

“I forbid it,” He shouts, “whatever brainwashin’ you’ve done to my kid, it’s over.”

“Forbid it?” You counter, “Do you hear yourself?”

“Always liked makin’ a show of things,” He sounds bitter, he is, “come on, we’re leaving.”

“No,” You tell him, voice unrecognizably strong, “I’m finally doing something for myself.”

Your father's face contorts, a mix of anger and betrayal etched into every wrinkle. He takes a step forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "For yourself? You think leaving everything behind and letting him influence you is for yourself?"

Joel shifts behind you, a ghosting of his fingers against your back but you don’t waver.

"Yes, for myself," you say, shocked at the steadiness in your voice. “I deserve a chance to figure things out my own way, I don’t have to follow the same path you did.”

Your father scoffs, shaking his head. "Your own way? You don't even know what that means, honey. All we built together, you’re ready to throw that away for him—”

"We?" you interrupt, feeling a surge of frustration. "You built that, Dad. I was a kid, I did what I was told.” It was clear he still saw you as a young girl, his protege, destined to take over after he was gone and carry on the legacy.

The silence that follows is deafening. 

Your father's eyes narrow, searching your face as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t the same young girl who stared at him wide-eyed, amazed by his ability to wow the crowd and commit to everything he did. The disappointment in his gaze morphs into something else—hurt.

“I’m not gonna sit and wait around if he breaks your heart,” Your father tells you, “let alone how inappropriate it is—you try justifyin’ that to the public. I see what this is and what you did.”

His eyes land on Joel.

Fortunately, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

The truth was, no one cared.

You and Joel had created an amazing partnership with natural chemistry and it seared the crowds, grabbed their attention, all eyes on you when you finally took your run out in the arena.

It was weeks that had built to this, following through your routine almost masterfully and without missing a beat, ending with a flourish trick as you stood on Honey’s back for the hundredth time it felt like now, not a single waver in your movement and lasso’d the cowboy hat from the middle of the ring and yanked it in, placing it on your head before the crowd erupted in a loud cheer.

It was the feeling you had searched for since you were younger, fulfillment like no other.

Your father’s appearance couldn’t be further from your mind and as you dismounted Honey and took your bow, your eyes searched the side for the one face that mattered most. Joel's proud grin beamed at you from across the arena, his eyes locked on yours. 

In that moment, the roar of the crowd faded away and it was him.

Joel’s Ranch, One Month Ago — Flashback:

You feel guilty for the way your eyes linger on his back as Buttercup trots around the ring, distracted and smiling to yourself as you step onto the railing and lean over with your forearms.

“Focus,” Joel chirps, “c’mon—put on your best voice.”

You clear your throat dramatically and lower your tone a bit, fighting through the giggles.

“You know him, you love him,” You bellow from deep in your chest, “It’s Old Timer!”

Joel chuckles, “That was horrible, baby.”

“So what?” You shrug, “I know him, I love him—point proven.”

It was rare to get a glimpse of Joel like this, back in his element as you watched him run-through your routine without all the flair, offering a slightly different view—though, he knows it won’t help.

You were barely focused on the routine, preoccupied with how easily Joel could capture a room like this, noticing your glossed over gaze as he finishes and hops off his horse, walking over with a knowing smirk.

"You weren't paying attention at all, were you?" Joel teases, his voice low and intimate.

You feel a heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze.

 "I was... distracted," You admit sheepishly.

His smirk softens into a tender smile. "By what, exactly?"

“Not Joel,” You clarify, grabbing hold of his collar as you pull him close, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “I like it when you ride, Old Timer.”

“All I gotta do is hop on a horse to make you swoon?” Joel asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the emotion as he blushes at the affection.

“Among other things.”

“Done and done, sweetheart.”

-

divider graphics: @saradika-graphics <3

[theambitiouswoman]

How To Become A Brand New Person ✨✨

Self Reflect:

Journal daily.

Think about past decisions and how they impacted your life.

Meditate regularly.

Create a vision board to visualize your goals.

Review your strengths and weaknesses.

Identify your core values and beliefs.

Figure out your passions and interests.

Think about your childhood dreams and aspirations.

Evaluate your current state of happiness and fulfillment.

Set Clear Goals:

Define specific career goals, like "Get promoted within two years."

Set health goals, like "Lose 20 pounds in six months."

Create financial goals such as "Save $10,000 for a vacation."

Establish personal development goals, like "Read 24 books in a year."

Set relationship goals, such as "Improve communication with my partner."

Define education goals, like "Complete a master's degree in three years."

Set travel goals, like "Visit five new countries in the next two years."

Create hobbies and interests goals, such as "Learn to play a musical instrument."

Set community or volunteer goals, like "Volunteer 100 hours this year."

Establish mindfulness or self-care goals, such as "Practice meditation daily."

Self Care:

Exercise for at least 30 minutes a day.

Follow a balanced diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables.

Prioritize getting 7-9 hours of quality sleep each night.

Practice in relaxation techniques like deep breathing or yoga.

Take regular breaks at work to avoid burnout.

Schedule "me time" for activities you enjoy.

Limit exposure to stressors and toxic people.

Practice regular skincare and grooming routines.

Seek regular medical check-ups and screenings.

Stay hydrated by drinking enough water daily.

Personal Development:

Read a book every month from various genres.

Attend workshops or seminars on topics of interest.

Learn a new language or musical instrument.

Take online courses to acquire new skills.

Set aside time for daily reflection and self improvement.

Seek a mentor in your field for guidance.

Attend conferences and networking events.

Start a side project or hobby to expand your abilities.

Practice public speaking or communication skills.

Do creative activities like painting, writing, or photography.

Create a Support System:

Build a close knit group of friends who uplift and inspire you.

Join clubs or organizations aligned with your interests.

Connect with a mentor or life coach.

Attend family gatherings to maintain bonds.

Be open and honest in your communication with loved ones.

Seek advice from trusted colleagues or supervisors.

Attend support groups for specific challenges (e.g., addiction recovery).

Cultivate online connections through social media.

Find a therapist or counselor for emotional support.

Participate in community or volunteer activities to meet like minded people.

Change Habits:

Cut back on sugary or processed foods.

Reduce screen time and increase physical activity.

Practice gratitude by keeping a daily journal.

Manage stress through mindfulness meditation.

Limit procrastination by setting specific deadlines.

Reduce negative self-talk by practicing self-compassion.

Establish a regular exercise routine.

Create a budget and stick to it.

Develop a morning and evening routine for consistency.

Overcome Fear and Self Doubt:

Face a specific fear head-on (example: public speaking).

Challenge your negative thoughts with positive affirmations.

Seek therapy to address underlying fears or traumas.

Take small, calculated risks to build confidence.

Visualize success in challenging situations.

Surround yourself with supportive and encouraging people.

Journal about your fears and doubts to gain clarity.

Celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small.

Focus on your strengths and accomplishments.

Embrace failure as a valuable learning experience.

Embrace Change:

Relocate to a new city or country.

Switch careers or industries to pursue your passion.

Take on leadership roles in your workplace.

Volunteer for projects outside your comfort zone.

Embrace new technologies and digital tools.

Travel to unfamiliar destinations.

Start a new hobby or creative endeavor.

Change your daily routine to add variety.

Adjust your mindset to see change as an opportunity.

Seek out diverse perspectives and viewpoints.

Practice Gratitude:

Write down three things you're grateful for each day.

Express gratitude to loved ones regularly.

Create a gratitude jar and add notes of appreciation.

Reflect on the positive aspects of challenging situations.

Show gratitude by volunteering or helping others in need.

Send thank-you notes or messages to people who've helped you.

Keep a gratitude journal and review it regularly.

Share your gratitude openly during family meals or gatherings.

Focus on the present moment and appreciate the little things.

Practice gratitude even in times of adversity.

Be Patient:

Set realistic expectations for your progress.

Accept that personal growth takes time.

Focus on the journey rather than the destination.

Learn from setbacks and view them as opportunities to improve.

Celebrate small milestones along the way.

Practice self-compassion during challenging times.

Stay committed to your goals, even when progress is slow.

Keep a journal to track your personal growth.

Recognize that patience is a valuable skill in personal transformation.

Celebrate Small Wins:

Treat yourself to your favorite meal or dessert.

Reward yourself with a spa day or self-care activity.

Share your achievements with friends and loved ones.

Create a vision board to visualize your successes.

Acknowledge and congratulate yourself in a journal.

Give yourself permission to take a break and relax.

Display reminders of your accomplishments in your workspace.

Take a day off to celebrate a major milestone.

Host a small gathering to mark your achievements.

Set aside time to reflect on how far you've come.

Maintain Balance:

Set clear boundaries in your personal and work life.

Prioritize self care activities in your daily routine.

Schedule regular breaks and downtime.

Learn to say "no" when necessary to avoid overcommitment.

Evaluate your work life balance regularly.

Seek support from friends and family to avoid burnout.

Be kind to yourself and accept imperfections.

Practice mindfulness to stay present and grounded.

Revisit your priorities and adjust them as needed.

Embrace self love and self acceptance as part of your daily life.

[blazycana]

Hobbies.. (dream girl guide)

Social

. Hosting Dinner Parties

. Attending Theatre Performances

. Joining A Women's Club

. Girl's Night Out (Or In)

. Coffee Dates

. Brunch

. Museums

Intellectual

. Read

. Learn A New Language

. Study History

. Take Online Courses

. Solve Puzzles

. Write

Creativity

. Paint

. Pottery

. Knitting

. Sculpting

. Photography

. Jewellery Making

. Sewing

. Cook Or Bake

Physical

. Swimming

. Tennis

. Volleyball

. Hiking

. Pilates

. Running

. Yoga

. Dancing

. Cycling

Self Care & Wellness

. Meditation

. Spa Days

. Journal

. Practice Mindfulness

. Nature Walks

. Long Baths

. Relax & Unwind

. Massages

. Therapy & Counselling

[ferg0s]

WRITE THE FREAKY BEASTARS FIC!!!!!!!

do I want my name and face attached to this? Employers looking at my info and seeing me, a potential employee, and wanting their brand attached to this?

Idgaf. (I lied I do I will delete this when I get my post fic clarity in the morning)

DISCLAIMER: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! I cannot stress that enough. Do not read if u can’t match my freak

Everyone at Cherrytone had their secrets. From minuscule, to down right life ending. It was engrained in the culture - and so was keeping your mouth shut. Some secrets kept you in on the people around you, showing their true form. Some explained the strange occurrences on campus…

But others were too precious to be spread. As per the law of supply and demand, more demand meant less supply. And no one was willing to waste even a drop of this. Literally.

Riz looked at the sheet of paper in his hands. The crumpled up page with barely legible chicken scratch of writing. He had to double check if he was at the right spot. The old sports club shed that hadn’t been used since the school built a new one. He didn’t even knew it existed until now, he guessed it served its purpose.

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door. The time did say 22:00, and it was exactly 22:00. He could feel the roll of cash in his pocket, creating an indent in his pocket he tired to cover by pulling down his shirt.

The door opened, just enough for the voice on the other side to come out. “This area is off limits-“ a female voice spoke up. He cleared this throat, finally being able to say the phrase he had been rehearsing since his walk to the old shed. “I just need to get my glove-“

He hopes he bad said it verbatim. There was a slight pause before the door opened. Revealing the person on the other side. He had seen her around campus, usually in a group of her own. There weren’t many humans on campus - only a few, and they seemed to be in a tight knit community. It was strange seeing her up close, the lack of fur or feathers - even scales - just bare skin. She sized him up, stepping out to look around before walking into the shed, and he followed suit.

He shut the door, noticing the lock on the door and immediately going to lock the door aswell. His heart was in his throat - he really was going this. It felt so wrong.

“Payment up front-“ the girl said sternly. He turned to her, realizing what she had said and fumbling to her the cash out of his pocket, holding the roll of money out towards her. She quickly grabbed the money and undid the rubber band around it, counting each note.

“Whatcha here for?”

He felt his throat dry up at the question. This was nerve wracking enough, and the sudden interrogation didn’t help.

“I heard it helps with the…” he trailed off, not sues how to word it.

“Side effects? Yeah I got a few who say it does-“ she replied as she finished up counting the money. “20 minutes.” She said as she turned around and walked further into the shed as she rolled the money back up, stopping infront of the bag to put the money in. He knew that. It was fucking expensive for the small slot of 20 minutes, but he had heard of others playing for 2 hours.

She turned around. “Lay down,” it came out like a demand. He nodded, slowly walking over and laying down on the dusty wooden floors of the shed. He knew that there would be no orientation, everything was already explained to him. She ran a tight ship from what he could tell.

He walked over him, standing on-top of him, feet on either aide of his torso, under his arms. “No-“ “biting or clawing.” He interrupted. He was too eager to wait for her to go over the rules. She scoffed. “Can’t be that bad that you’re in such a rush-“ she scoffed, her hands going to the waist band of her skirt as she pulled them up. “You have no idea-“ he muttered. Once hiked up, her hands went under her skirt, pulling down the panties she had on, tossing them to the side.

The scent hit him immediately. Blood therapy. A taboo practice used to elievate the symptoms of most carnivore medication, mostly muscle pain and headaches. Due to the low intensity of human blood, it was often the best source - but due ethics violations, the practice was banned a few decades ago. Publicly that is.

She towered herself down onto him, and by that time his senses had drowned out any rational thinking. She let out a gasp when she felt his tongue darting to her folds. The reaction was almost immediate. As soon as he got a taste, a single droplet, he was hooked. His tongue lapping like a man - bear - starved. He knew it was in his DNA to crave blood - his ancestral nature. He had dabbled in the occasional doping, but even then he could only get his hands on a quick sip if he was lucky. And rabbit blood didn’t hit quite the same. Too bland, he thought. His arms and locked around her thighs, as if pulling her closer would give him more.

He could hear the muffled moans, the gasps and pants coming from her. Her legs shaking as he moved around with no mercy. He felt her whole body tense up, her fingers locking onto the fur of his arm and squeezing it. He felt a few rip off, but he didn’t care. Her other hand went up to cover her mouth, trying to muffle the cries that managed to slip through the gaps of her fingers. Her body tensed up, and he felt her trying to get off but his arms locked her in place. He didn’t know if the ordeal was making her cry out from pain, but he didn’t care enough to stop. After all the safe word was “pineapple”. Or furious pounding on his arms, as he was told. The taste mixed with a salty, slimy substance, only for a minute when he felt her muscles wrap around his tongue.

It felt like it went on longer for 20 minutes. But then again, it wasn’t like he was counting. By the end of it, she stumbled on her feet, and he could see a thin layer of sweat over her face.

“Did I hurt you-“ he asked she he sat up, noticing that the headache had since that morning was no longer present. She shook her head, still heaving. “No.” She replied. She walked over to her bag again, opening and rummaging through it before haphazardly tossing him a packet of wet wipes. She wiped his face as he walked him to and sit on a chair near the bag, plopping down and panting. As if she had ran a marathon.

He felt better. No more aches, no more headaches. He felt more relaxed. “Thank you-“ he said shyly, not being able to look at her. “No - thank you, ” she chuckled.

He didn’t know what she meant by that. But he did notice when she started to charge him less, quarter less wasn’t a lot, but still a reduced price for those monthly visits.

( In dept nasty version if god doesn’t smite me down soon)

[oh-no-its-bird]

Wanna fic where it's like, one of those "Obito came back to Konoha + Rin never died so team 7 is all together as adults" fics

But yk, having avoided mountains of irreversible trauma that would shape him into the slack off bitch boy we know and love in canon, Kakashi is still super up tight and bitchy ab rules n stuff

And the fic itself is Rin and Obito trying various methods to get him to relax (with the end goal of the fic being to somehow shape this Kakashi into the Kakashi we know and love from canon, but like, trying to do that WITHOUT the death and trauma)

Just silly fluffy fun times as Rin and Obito do their best to get Kakashi to loosen up a bit, probably only winding him up more and more through their efforts

They try to get him to get a hobby, like knitting or reading. Only the first book he picks up happens to be a really raunchy romance and Obito's tiny virgin loser mind can't handle it and immediatley declares the whole thing a bust, slaps the book out of Kakashi's hand, and drags him away

They try to get him to smoke. Bad idea, he's wired like a dog so it's like times 10, lasts way longer than it should, and makes him super twitchy/paranoid.

They try to convince him to go to therapy— and when he obviously says no, tries to trick him into having an impromptu therapy lesson w THEM. Which almost works at first but then he looks up from his heartfelt speech and goes "are you FUCKING writing this down rn" and Rin very guiltily puts the diagnosis notebook away

So at first, it's all done in good fun and good faith, and Kakashi even agrees to go along with it a bit bc like, why not. They have a point.

But as each method fails, Obito and Rin get even more into it / weird ab it, and Kakashi gets progressively more and more done with this— till it's basically turned into Rin and Obito competing with themselves/eachother to see who can manage to "fix" Kakashi

(Kakashi is climbing out the fucking window and booking it into the woods)

Kakashi keeps trying to hide behind Gai, only for Gai to turn around and BETRAY him by saying Rin and Obito might have a point ab him needing to try and relax a bit (not the fixing bit tho, wtf guys)

Kakashi ends up hiding in Genma's house bc Genma isn't invested enough in this to comment on the situation

In the end ofc Rin and Obito realize they've gone too far and apologize profusely, and the entire event of having to dodge Obito and Rin's insane efforts have helped simulate the terrible trauma Kakashi missed out on, so he's like. A LITTLE more relaxed. A little. But only bc hes so immune to bullshit now that he just kinda blinks sleepily through it (like he did after Rin and Obito put his entire bed into the middle of a lake while he was sleeping in an effort to show him how to "roll with the unexpected")

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

New Year’s resolutions can be tricky when you struggle with low self-worth or body image issues. 

There may be a lot of pressure to „better yourself“. It depends on your environment and social circle, of course - but in some, that’s basically synonymous with pressure to obsess over your body. You need to „glow up“: lose weight, do a more complicated skincare routine, stress more about your body shape, work out harder, stress more about numbers, enjoy food less, pick an aesthetic and stress about fitting into that box more… 

And all that stress can be, well, pretty effing stressful. Especially if you already struggle with all the other stress factors life throws at you! Not to mention that it can easily trigger obsessive behaviors that will harm your physical and mental health. 

So, what to do? Well, the most obvious suggestion would be to just not make any resolutions at all. You have full permission to reject the tradition and refuse to treat the first day of January as some special day for making changes. (After all, it is just a day as any other! A New Year’s resolution is not more likely to succeed than a life change starting on July 18th. Or October 3rd. Or… you get my point, any random day). 

This can be a great choice if the whole concept is just too tainted with pressure for you. You can just say no to the whole thing. But what if you don’t want to? Maybe you like the idea of resolutions and just don’t like the weight/bodyshape focus. Or maybe you know you will get asked a million times anyway and you want to have a quick answer ready rather than having to defend why you don’t do that tradition. Or, if you already know you have obsessive tendencies, maybe you feel like not having one would backfire because people around you will be judgmental („oh, so you don’t have the willpower for that“ etc.) and that’ll make you choose a triggering one despite knowing that’s no good for you. 

In those cases, there are a few options: 

Choose one of the traditional „better you“ ones but focus on adding rather than restricting: instead of cutting food groups or calories, add healthy foods or habits. Add a piece of fruit to your breakfast. Try a certain number of vegetables you haven’t tried yet. Learn a new recipe every month. Try out different teas and keep a journal of which ones you like so it becomes easier to stay hydrated. Go on a walk once a week. Add some nice stretches to your morning routine and write down which ones you enjoy most. 

Choose a resolution related to skills, education or hobbies rather than your body: Read a certain number of books. Learn a language. Learn to play an instrument. Learn to knit. Challenge yourself to memorize a poem once a month. Go to at least 5 different museums this year. Teach yourself how to say your favorite word in as many languages as you can. Read up on that historical era you were always curious about. Watch a nature documentary once a week. 

Choose a resolution focused on mental or emotional health rather than physical: Write down one thing you’re grateful for every day. Dedicate 2 minutes daily to deep breathing. Commit to reaching out to your friends weekly. Go to therapy. Learn how to meditate. Celebrate your small victories more often. 

And if those options still feel too pressure-y: Choose a fun or silly one! Who says a better you needs to mean a fitter or more skilled you? Why not make a resolution to improve the quality of your life by just adding more whimsy or giggles or harmless adventure? 

Some examples: start a collection of silly socks and wear them at least once a week. Try a certain number of „outrageous“ food combinations and rate them from most to least disgusting. Commit to drawing a cat in a silly hat weekly. Learn a skill you’ll most likely never ever need in real life. Start a „affirmation journal“ and write honest-but-silly compliments about yourself in it daily (You’re so good at having eyebrows). Pet at least 20 dogs this year. Let Wikipedia choose a random topic and challenge yourself to become an expert on that topic. Watch all movies with your third favorite actor in it. Start a blog about frogs. Try as many different flavors of cake as possible. Buy something yellow once a month. Kiss your partner more often (consensually of course). Take a certain number of pictures of birds outside. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 27th

~*~

1. Hiii, i have a request for the next ITMF: please recommend some lengthy canon divergence fics in which lan xichen gets told off for believing JGY over LWJ. Like the fact that he believed someone from another sect (especially the Jin) over his own brother is called out.

Ofcourse wangxian pairing with a happy ending for them.

Extra plus if it's not jiang cheng friendly or not jgy friendly.

Thank you 🙏

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ) if they don't mind a WIP

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ) its not the Main Focus, but LX issues gets adressed

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) link in #8 there's an epic scene where lxc calls himself (and the more toxic Lan rules) out, and dedicates himself to being a more proactive sect leader, set after canon.

Arrayed by FirefliesNLightningBugs (M, 5k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, LSZ found by LXC, LSZ keeps his memories, alive JYL & JZX, canon temporary character death, WIP) shows lxc slowly realizing that he did this and that was stupid from his pov, set post 1st siege of bm.

~*~

2. Hello! IMTF fics that deal with self-discovery. Whether it be coming to terms with being queer or gender stuff or kink. Just grappling with identities and the social tumult that comes along with navigating them, purity culture, cisheteronormativity, etc. Just smth along those lines.

Thank you!!

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, sex worker WWX, Fashionista LWJ, in this house we support sex workers, Fluff and Smut, they're horny and in love, mental health, therapy is good actually, Domestic Bliss, tender kink, Fiber Arts, autistic LWJ, neurodivergent WWX, switch rights, Nonbinary NHS, a soupçon of gender, get in losers we're introspecting about queerness, Genderfluid Character, Gender Exploration, perhaps slightly more than a soupçon of gender, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, But They're Working Through It, aggressive mutual caretaking)

reports of my heterosexuality may have been exaggerated by sysrae (E, 8k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, getting together, straight boy LWJ, disaster gay WWX, heteronormativity, hockey player WWX, little angst)

Pride and Prejudice by sami (T, 3k, WangXian, Pride, Parades, Cats)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, wangxian, modern w magic, college/university au, fake/pretend relationship, single parent WWX, homophobia, light angst w/ happy ending, idiots to lovers, fluff)

without your new eyes by anaphoricae (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Didn’t Know They Were Dating, Sexuality Discovery, Self-Discovery, Literal Sleeping Together, (there is so much sleeping in this fic), mentions of WWX/others and LWJ/others, Drunk LWJ, Teacher LWJ, WWX is a… throws dart… computer scientist, No Angst, Jealous WWX, Flirty WWX, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, WWX’s Love Language is Physical Touch, [Podfic] without your new eyes by anaphoricae by LadyEn)

this body is a gift for you by loosingletters (T, 1k, MXY & WWX, Trans Female WWX, Trans MXY, Canon Divergence, Gender Identity, Self-Discovery, Gender Roles)

The Sculptor by Eleanor_Fenyx (M, 27k, wangxian, LQY/WQ, LWJ & WQ, SL/XXC, modern, lavender marriage, period typical attituted and terminology, mute SL, queer themes, queer families, slow burn, getting together, intimacy, artist WWX, professor LWJ) autumn flower by ScarlettStorm (E, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic vague north american setting, transwoman wwx, transwoman lwj, Gender Experimentation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gender Dysphoria, followed by gender euphoria, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, switch rights) Its trans fem lan zhan descovering herself and how to let herself be true to herself, and wei ying (also transfem) was a big part of cracking her egg. It's still ongoing and it's really good!

~*~

3. ITMF fics that explore wwx’s cultivation - canon dynamics, preferably not cql compliant please!

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

4. Hello! And thank you so much for all you do!! I’m in the mood for a fic set in canon universe where wangxian start a friends with benefits kind of thing, where they start having sex without discussing their feelings.

Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Versatile | Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer WWX, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

~*~

5. ITMF a fic similar to hyperballad by azuresummer please!

🔒 姻緣 | this marriage was always predestinedby saccharinings (E, 43k, wangxian, Cheating, Infidelity, not between wangxian, WWX is married and LWJ persuades him to cheat on his husband with him, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Feminizing Language, Exhibitionism, Size Difference, WagnXian Have a Breeding Kink, Stomach Bulge, Possessive LWJ, Manipulation, WWX Wears Lingerie, Rape/Non-con Elements, for one part, Hair-pulling Kink, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Mirror Sex, Vibrators, Phone Sex, Rimming, Edgeplay, slight choking kink, Light Bondage, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, LJY’s Big Fat Crush on Milfxian, Pregnant WWX, WangXian Endgame, Spanish Translation) maybe. It has some common elements but ah no murder I think. A Wen does get screwed over.

~*~

6. Hey its for the ITMF.

"A harmony between qin and se" by alaceron is one of my all-time favourites. It'd be great if you could recommend some wangxian fics with household intrigue and scheming. Lwj being a simp as a bonus is even better!! (doesn't matter if wwx is a male or female)

~*~

7. ITMF fics where WWX and LWJ end up accidentally married. Or ones where they end up married because of political/economic reasons. Canon era fics are preferred but will accept modern era if it’s the “we got married for tax benefits but i’m actually in love with you” kind of trope. Mpreg only if it’s really good please.

a long time coming by syriala (G, 2k, WangXian, Getting Together, Pining, Accidental Marriage, except it's not so accidental, Supportive LXC, Fluff)

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Accidental Marriage, Coming Out, Falling In Love, supportive family, Fluff, Happy Ending, the whole story is happy)

🔒 the world passes by but for me there is only you by beeswaxing (E, 82k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it of sorts, golden core reveal, accidental marriage, love confessions, horny teenagers, pining, fluff, everybody lives, first time)

play your love songs all night long by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, One Big Happy Family, Sharing a Bed, (platonically for 13 years), Therapy, in the grand tradition of the untamed most of this is flashback, Pegging, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings)

Only Fools Rush In by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 27k, WangXian, Modern, Woke Up Married, alcohol use but no sex happens while drunk, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, what happens in Vegas etc etc)

What If….. Jiang Cheng Understood? by ToxicAngel13 (M, 66k, WIP, WangXian, Ribbons, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WangXian Get Married in the Cold Springs Cave, Protective JC, Confused WWX, Angry LWJ, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, YZY Bashing, POV JFM, Not JFM Friendly, Hurt/Comfort, Protective NHS)

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer) LWJ is in love when they effectively get married for tax purposes, and WWX gets there, and of course there's lots of pining for your husband

🔒 Two Weddings and a Family Reunion by scifigeek14 (T, 36k, wangxian, canon divergence, shotgun wedding, politics, everyone lives au, fix-it, feelings realization, family feels, marriage proposal, marriage of convenience)

~*~

8. Hello! I am new to the fandom, I just finished watching the drama and I want more!!! I have been recced to your blog for fic suggestions? May I please have suggestions for canon compliant stories that are mostly light hearted (no heavy angst please)? I really enjoyed the mood in the first part of the show when all the characters were energetic and goofy teens, so perhaps some fics set then? I want more of the world, clans, costumes, etc. World building is maybe the right word? Thank you so much!

It’s Only Time by etymologyplayground (T, 8k, WangXian, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, It’s About The Yearning., Getting Together, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Humor) this one is tagged as Post-Canon Canon Compliant so I hope it's okay

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

~*~

9. ITMF: No JGY redemption. Like, he has many choices or someone give him another path to take but he still choose the unforgivable one. I dont want it from JGY's POV. I want it to focus on WWX story like in canon i guess? Thanks!

~*~

10. For itmf, I'm craving some angst with a happy ending fics! Established relationship wangxian where they fight and/or break up and both of them are hurting a lot, but they make up and get back together. Thank you!

🔒 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ’s canonically big dick, sort of a ‘thirsting for your co-worker ex’ vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

estuaries by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 34k, wangixan, modern, breakup/makeup, pining while fucking, single dad WWX, angst w/ happy ending)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 108k, wangxian, modern, angst w/ happy ending, romance, persuasion au, separations, pining, miscommunication, depression, self-harm, reconciliation, smut)

��� love wakes me by dea_liberty (E, 46k, wangxian, modern, angst w happy ending, childhood sweethearts, misunderstanding, famous LWJ, coffee shop owner WWX, found families, grand romantic gestures)

~*~

11. (This part added to fic finder, fic might be decay by antebunny)

Also, if you know any fics with similar plot (like Wei Ying being forced to cleanse from RE for "his own good" and getting hurt instead), i would appreciate the recommendations! Thank you 🍁 @shellennium

~*~

12. I am hoping someone has fanfic with

A. Wei Wuxian becoming miserable after marrying into the Lan sect, a bit of lxc/lqr bashing but with them eventually realizing they were wrong, also if Wei Wuxian tries to commit suicide it would be better

B. Fanfics in which wwx doesn't want to have children but is forced because he is lwj's husband

C. Wwx having a parental figure for the first time, I don't want it to be the Jiang parents but anyone else is fine

Also, no jyl or long lwj bashing, please

12A)

Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, WWX learns to stand up for himself, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, WWX is Loved, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives)

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

12C)

safe here with me by xcourtney_chaoticx (G, 3k, WangXian, Family Feels, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Goes to Gusu, Fluff, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Food Issues, Endgame WangXian)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

藍色的花，紅色的蘭 {Lan se de hua, hongse de lan} by Admiranda, AshayaTReldai (M, 45k, WIP, WangXian, Orphan WWX, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, wwx raised in the lan clan, softer lqr, Good Uncle LQR, Good lan clan, Good Older Sibling LXC)

🔒 crying like a fire in the sun by Reverie (cl410) (T, 10k, WangXian, SongXiao, BSSR/LY, Runaway WWX, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Die, rogue cultivator WWX, Angst, Post Cloud Recesses, Not YZY Friendly, Happy Ending, BSSR is WWX’s grandmother instead of grandmaster)

Crimson leaves by barisan (T, 4k, WangXian, WWX & OFC(s), WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Rogue Cultivator WWX, WWX gets lesbian grandmothers, WWX learns about his parents, WWX is a Wen, (Through his lesbian granny but still), Getting Together, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Pre-Canon, Genius WWX)

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WN & WWX, WWX is a Wen, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming)

~*~

13. Hii, so I'm looking for fics kinda enemies to lovers but not exactly 😅 like one of them is reluctant to get together at first? Or at least it looks like it, like in All The Roads or The earthquake in the room, both the I highly recommend btw. Thanks a lot @akutamichan

baby let’s take the long way home by plonk (Not rated, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Abortion, Mpreg, With A Twist, Enemies to Lovers)

🔒 no certainty of doors between us by betts (T, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Roommates, Crack Treated Seriously, Drunken Confessions, Idiots in Love, dubiously consensual spooning, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing Clothes, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, wwx’s casual intimacy meets lwj’s touch starvation, wwx doesn’t know they’re enemies, lwj doesn’t know they’re dating)

varied my velocities by fantasiavii (E, 58k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ballerina LWJ, Football/Soccer player WWX, Enemies to Lovers, Top WWX/Bottom LWJ, Dom WWX, Angst with a happy ending, Internalized homophobia)

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip, LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

Documented Fact by Scrippio (T, 7k, WangXian, LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Modern with Magic, College/University, Professors, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Fluff, OYZZ POV, Humor) which features married Wangxian but everyone believes they're enemies.

~*~

14. This account is a treasure!!! What I’m looking for are the post WWX resurrection fics that address Wangxian age gap. Can be fun, kinky, healing, basically anything. @feanarotherindion

Help, My Dad Is Fucking Someone My Age!! by sweetlolixo (T, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Humor, Crack, Fluff, Romance)

~*~

15. I recently read fic While covered in mud by merthurlin. And I really love badass Huaisang who takes matters into his own hands earlier in the story. Is there any more fic where Huaisang went into Burial Mounds like that? Or just awesome badass scary Huaisang in general. I have huge need to read some badass Huaisang who will get recognized for his mastery too.

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that’s spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh)

💖 demons run when a good man goes to warby Miranda_Aurelia (T, 20k, wangxian, LWJ & NHS, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, angst w happy ending, NHS & LWJ friendship, not JGY friendly, dark LWJ, revenge, (presumed) major character death, not LXC friendly)

The Lost Cause by KouriArashi (T, 18k, JGY & NHS, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Murder Bros, NHS is a boss bitch, JGY is a hot mess, Everybody Lives, except the people who suck, (lookin at you JGS and JZN))

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 78k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX's Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, is it reconciliation if WWX doesn't know they were estranged?, Oblivious WWX, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Deserves Happiness, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science) If the requester doesn't mind a WIP, the frequently updating The Threads of Fate is another good one that features a brilliant Nie Huaisang.

~*~

16. itmf for fics where lan wangji is very forward? in terms of flirting or expressing his adoration/ attraction for wei wuxian

can be canon or au or even modern au!

(just no side jc/wq please)

🔒Tangible by apathyinreverie (T, 2k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Humor, Possessive LWJ, First Kiss, Getting Together, the library scene)

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian)

dream of a funeral; hear of a marriage by defractum (nyargles) (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff and Humor)

loveliness by orphan_account (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Pining, Teen Romance, Getting Together)

body and soul by TooSel (E, 41k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Marriage Proposal, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU, Adoption, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

❤️ Standing Engagement by x_los (M, 18k, wangxian, misunderstandings, accidental engagement, sunshot campaign, golden core reveal, accidental relationship, WQ lives, everyone lives au, Mojo’s post)

Give Me One Good Honest Kiss by thunderwear (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, horny LWJ agenda, LXC is suffering in LQR’s name, [PODFIC] Give Me One Good Honest Kiss by thunderwear)

~*~

17. ITMF where WWX agree to come to gusu in exchange of wen remnants protection. I want WWX accept the lan condirion to lock him up. I want him to live lifelessly/aphatic/just living because he is nit dead yet. Or maybe like in Always walked a very thin line by tucuxi.

Bonus if LWJ/LXC/LQR managed to make WWX scream at them and tell them whats wrong with him in anger. Thanks

The Forsaken Jade Statue by SaiaiSaiko (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian, Curse Breaking, Curses, WWX Goes to Gusu, Dark Gusu Lan Sect Imprisonment, Seclusion as Imprisonment, YLLZ WWX, Older LWJ, Older LXC, Cursed LWJ, petrification, Hopeful Ending) Wei Wuxian in 'Seclusion' for the Wen's protection and stumbling over Lan Wangji cursed to be a statue

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[clioerato]

If you really want to write Steddie angst, you don’t need to summon monsters from the Upside Down or have Steve waking up screaming from nightmares.

Give them summer sunlight. Let it spill across their arms, backpacks, across Eddie’s face as he lounges on the hood of the car, cigarette between his fingers. Steve’s nearby, in the shade, damp-haired and in a torn shirt like he’s just crawled out of the lake. They’re laughing. Too loud for two people. Too real for two people trying to keep their distance.

Give them warm water drops. Steve jumps from the dock, Eddie splashes in after him. They surface together with curses and laughter. The water smells like silt and summer and that stupid shampoo Steve always forgets to rinse out. Eddie watches it drip down his neck, then looks away. Because looking hurts. Because his heart knows what his mouth is afraid to say.

Give them smiles. In stolen moments. In mixtapes Steve leaves by the door. In the pack of cigarettes where Eddie hides a candy. In dumb nicknames, in backseat nights, in side-glances and “accidental” brushes of fingers.

Let them get to know each other. Not completely. Just the edges. Carefully. Through vinyl records and hated books. Through scars and unnamed memories. Through laughter, so they don’t cry. Through silence. Silence is their mother tongue.

Let Eddie play a show. Let the amps scream, let his guitar wail, let his voice crack. Let Steve be in the crowd, where no one sees how he looks at him. Not just looks — prays. For Eddie. For them. For what can’t be said out loud.

Give them a library. Old, dusty. Where they pretend to learn something. Where Eddie takes notes and Steve flips through medical books like they hold answers. Where their shoulders touch, but never stay touching. Because someone might walk in. Because “we’re not supposed to be.”

Give them antiseptic. In the hospital smells Eddie comes home wrapped in — alive, but changed. He doesn’t tell Steve right away. He jokes too long, smokes too long, writes letters and burns them. Then one night, he looks him in the eye and says: "Maybe I deserved it." And Steve — shatters. But doesn’t leave.

Give them fear. Eddie doesn’t kiss him. Doesn’t let him. Not because he doesn’t want to. But because he wants to — too much. Because it hurts even being close. Because every touch feels like a tightrope over a chasm. Because the news shows bodies. Because the world whispers filth. Because love — is lethal.

Give them loneliness, together. Let Steve sit on the floor outside the bathroom while Eddie coughs. Let Eddie lean his forehead into Steve’s shoulder while Steve pretends to read a comic. Let them look the same way, but walk different paths. It’s safer that way.

Give them lies. "You okay?" Dustin asks. "Yeah," Stive says.

"You and Steve are close," Wayne observes. "He’s just a good friend," Eddie replies. "You’re not...?" "No." "Never?" "Never."

And no one knows each “never” leaves a carved mark in their ribs.

Give them love. Muted. Unlived. Growing in between sentences. In Steve wearing Eddie’s shirt. In a note forgotten in a book. In hugging with a pillow between them so they don’t get too close. In the unsaid "if only."

Spring. Eddie gets spots. Kaposi’s, the doctor later says. He jokes, of course: “Thought I was just allergic to a boring life.” Steve doesn’t laugh with him anymore — he’s still there, but cracked open inside.

Robin brings Eddie ice cream. They sit on the roof, all three of them. Like teenagers. Like time could be frozen.

Steve washes Eddie’s dishes for the first time. Not because he asks. But because today, Eddie can’t get off the couch

1991

The therapy changes. New protocol. New hope. Not a cure — but a delay.

Eddie loses his hair. Laughs: “Guess I’m only beautiful on the inside now.”

Steve buys him a hat. Knitted. Stupid-looking. Eddie smiles for the first time in months — genuinely. Not through the pain.

They dance in the kitchen. Slowly. To Elton John. Gloves on their hands. Hearts bare.

\\\

They have no future. But they have now.

Eddie sleeps more. Talks less. But whispers:

"If I’d been born later... would we have gone on a date?" Steve nods. "Would you have kissed me in public?" "I’d have held your hand in the street," Steve says. "Would you have married me?" Steve smiles. "The day it’s allowed — I’ll be the first one in a suit."

And give them time. Just a little. Imperfect. Cracked. On the edge. Before the sun sets. Before the body gives out. Before Eddie vanishes into his own fear. Before Steve stays, even if they’re no longer “together.”

Give Eddie one quiet line. A small diagnosis. Three letters after they saved the world — and for some reason, he lived. HIV+

Give them a reality that would scare any monster.

And maybe—just maybe— give them a future. A future where Eddie quietly hands Steve a mixtape. No ceremony. Just glance that doesn’t last. A future where Steve wears a suit for the first time in years, and God, he looks stunning in it—like something out of a better world.

A future where Steve kisses him. No hesitation.

And in that future, the birds are singing. The sun is shining. And Steve Harrington, in that damn perfect suit, kisses Eddie Munson for the first time to the sound of a mixtape Eddie made month ago— for his funeral.

———

sorry about that. one of the reasons i dont read or write angst is my life and brain are full of that shit. if you want some more historical angst but with happy steddie, it's here

[clinicallyexhausted]

Sounds like someone's upset Nadine has people that love her...

I have openings in the next few days if you'd like to talk about your issues with self worth :)

Why would I throw one at her?? She's so nice :(

You, on the other hand, May benefit from brain damage

The only reason she got the brick last time is because she’s a stupid, naive, annoying little wart who couldn’t pay attention to her surroundings to save her life. Sounds like she’d had the damage already before that stone hit her.

[leviathanleva]

My work contains mature themes. Mind the tags/warnings and read with caution. I mostly write for COD because I want to give Ghost the happy ending he deserves, but I dabble in other fandoms as well.

MDNI | 18+ | AO3 |

Call of Duty

🎀 Cujo [Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader] {Explicit}

angst, hurt/comfort, smut, romance, blood and injury

A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

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

🎀 Caffè Crema [Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader] {Explicit}

fluff, smut, romance, slice of life

Excitement for your morning coffee turns to panic when you bump into a mountainous stranger in a grey hoodie, sporting a skull mask. Sputtered apologies become a conversation in a corner of the café. And he’s so beat up, battered and bruised and scarred that you can’t help the words that leave your lips:

“Do you want to come home with me?”

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

🎀 Haven [Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Experiment!FemReader]

angst, hurt/comfort, romance, blood and gore, death, smoking

Makarov and his men were nearly wiped out. And all they had to go off of was the static recording from a security camera. Bodies strew along, a dogpile of dead men. And at the center of it all a small figure clad in a dress the color of dirt, arms smeared with blood to the elbows.

It was you. Subject 46.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

🎀 Safety Knit [Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, romance, smoking, alcohol, psychological trauma

War causes psychological damage deeper than any bullet wound. When his mind begins to fail him and alcohol isn’t enough to help, Ghost is assigned to a therapy group in the hopes of healing the trauma burrowed deep in his psyche.

That’s how he meets you, an ex-patient turned volunteer to help those in need.

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

🎀 Imagines:

Seeing someone flirting with Ghost. Ghost coming home to you after a deployment. Neighbor Ghost helps you move in. Neighbor Ghost part 2. Ghost and his toddler.

My work for other fandoms can be found here.

[muldj0rd]

“You saved my life. You’re my superhero” || Lestappen

Summary: “I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Warnings: Jos Verstappen’s A+ parenting, Jos Verstappen is a warning in himself, talk about mental illness’, depression, eating disorder, angst, Max needs a hug, Charles gives it to him, internalised homophobia, top Charles, bottom Max, anal, anal fingering, handjob, dacryphilia, praise kink, insecure Max, insecurities, nipple play, Charles being Max’s first male partner

Masterlist || AO3

Growing up, and if you didn’t look too close, Max was a happy child

Good mother. Good sister. Grew up with a father with failed racing dreams

It gave him pressure, sure… But if he didn’t have the pressure… Would he be who he was today?

Today, Max Verstappen was a three-time world champion winner

3 times as more champions than his dad

61 more wins than his dad ever had

Was his dad a good dad, though?

Jos Verstappen was the worst dad, if he even deserved to call himself a father

Max grew up with all kinds of mental illness’. Some he grew out of, some he didn’t

Depression. Stayed all through out his karting days and up until now

Eating Disorder. He didn’t feel valid for having one, and thinking he made it up because he didn’t look like someone with an ED

He wasn’t fit. He wasn’t skinny. He wasn’t…

He’d look in the mirror every morning, looking at his shirt covered chest, telling himself he needed to work out more, loose the fat around his stomach

No matter how hard he tried to loose the fat, he could never look good or how he wanted

He could never look like Charles

Charles was pretty. Who was Max kidding? Charles was hot… Until he slept. Charles was drop dead gorgeous when he slept

Max didn’t care it sounded creepy- it wasn’t, right? They were friends, and Charles had fallen asleep in his company before, so naturally Max had seen Charles asleep. Gorgeous

Max wouldn’t be where he was without his so called father

Max would be dead without Charles

Max wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. It was wrong… That’s at least what his dad had told him after Max had told him a story about Charles that maybe to Jos sounded a tad bit too friendly

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is pretty”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is slightly attractive”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is hot”

Was Max gay?

No.

Red Bull had suggested- Christian had suggested to Max that he tried out therapy, he refused of course, but when Christian didn’t shut the fuck up, he agreed just to keep him off of his back

“Who helped you become who you are today? A three-time champion, that is?” The therapist asked curious

“My dad… I guess” Max shrugged slightly, biting his bottom lip softly, the skin rough from where he had been nibbling at it for a few days, stressed about this session

“You guess?” He asked curious, shifting in his seat

“I wouldn’t be a champion without my dad, but I wouldn’t be…” Max sighed, nails scraping his palm, itching the anxious feeling “…I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t be alive… Without… Without C-Charles” It was if the words were wrong, or a sin of some kind

“Charles? Leclerc?” He questioned, knitting his eyebrows together

“He’s always been there for me” Max shrugged slightly, his bottom lip trembling “When… When everybody was… When everybody was against me, Charles had been there. Always. Picking me up from the dirt of the track, telling me everything would be okay and that people could go fuck themselves” He chuckled softly, his eyes welling up, glazing with tears

“So… You and Charles are friends?” He hummed, writing something down on his notes

“Yeah. I guess…” Max hummed, shrugging slightly, sniffling

“You need to stop guessing, and instead start to know” He sighed “You like Charles?”

“Yes” Max hummed “I mean- no. Not like that. I guess-… I know, Charles is a friend”

“You find Charles attractive?” Max looked up, his tears now dried

“H-He’s pretty. I gue- I know” Max swallowed “Sometimes” He shrugged slightly

“When? When is Charles pretty to you?” He shifted curiously in his chair, the one hour now gone, but he wanted to hear more from Max

“When he sleeps” Max shrugged “His long eye lashes against his cheek bones, his lips slightly parted, pretty lips… Full. Nice. His hair messy… Looks more fluffy that way. I just kinda wanna stroke it, thread my fingers through it” Max smiled softly, not realising what he was saying

“Max…” He sighed softly “I can’t tell you how you feel, but… I think maybe you should reconsider what you feel towards Charles

“I’m not gay” Max said confused, shaking his head slightly “I’m not”

“I’m not saying you are, Max… I’m saying you should reconsider if Charles and you are better friends than you go around and think”

”I’m not gay” Max kept mumbling all the time, in all the languages he knew

“You listening, boy?” Jos asked when he saw and heard Max mumbling to himself “What you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Sorry father. I’m listening” Max apologised, squirming in his seat where he sat

He wasn’t listening, and he knew his father knew, and he was sure as hell to be beaten over it later

MAX: Can I come over and cuddle with Leo?

Charles blinked his eyes open. He was yet to fall asleep when he heard the ping, but close to

The light was bright in his eyes. 1:36 said his phone when he turned the brightness down

CHARLES: It’s almost 2 am, and he’s asleep. What about Sassy and Jimmy?

MAX: Can I come over to just see you then?

Max always used Leo as an excuse to see Charles when he needed it

CHARLES: Of course you can, Max

’Thank you. I love you’

MAX: Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit

Moments like these came often, so to not wake the whole apartment complex, Charles had given Max a key

Max closed the door behind him quietly. Kicking off his shoes and his jacket, putting them neatly on their respectful places, knowing Charles was a neat freak

Max softly got into Charles bed, careful not to wake him if he was asleep, Leo stirring quietly awake when he moved to lay on his side, back facing Charles’

Max’ breath hitched slightly as he felt Charles pull the duvet up over his body, an arm around his waist, keeping him close, soothing him softly to sleep

Charles asked once at 3 am what happened. Max broke into tears. Charles hated seeing Max like that, so he never asked again

He felt guilty for never asking. Selfish. Max didn’t want to talk about it anyways, so it was all good

Max woke up by Leo licking all over his face, making him groan softly

He was now laying on his stomach as Leo curled into his side, his fur soft against Max’s hand that was stroking him

He got out of the bed, seeing as Charles wasn’t there. His mind worked on auto pilot, his body walking towards the smell of food

“I’m sorry” Max murmured from where he stood in the middle of the living room, looking into the kitchen

Charles’s body stiffened slightly “It’s fine. It’s what friends are for” He chocked out, not looking at Max

Why didn’t he? He always looked at Max. No matter what

“I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Max was the one getting abused, so why was Charles the one going to break down?

“Charles…” Max almost whined, looking up into the back of Charles head “Look at me, please… Charles, I need you to look at me” Max whispered

Charles tapped on the counter with his nail, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the ceiling, hoping the unshed tears would just go away

When they didn’t and he couldn’t stretch it any longer, he turned around, opening his eyes slowly

He shouldn’t have. The tears streamed silently down his cheeks the moment he saw Max’s disheveled look

Max drew Charles into his arms, Charles immediately shoving his head into the crook of Max’s neck, his hands clutching at the front of Max’s shirt

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve saved you” Charles sobbed into Max’s neck, his body shaking

‘You saved my life’

Max’s eyes welled up, feeling guilty that he had made Charles feel like this. Made him feel like he should apologise

“It’s not your fault” Max chocked out, sniffling slightly, holding back tears as best as he could

Charles leaned away from Max neck, his sobbing quieting down, now eye to eye

Max took his hand up to Charles’s cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wiping away tears around his beautiful green eyes

“It’s not your fault” Max tried again

Max wanted to lean in, kissing Charles until they were both passed out from oxygen. It wasn’t the right time… or was it?

‘Fuck it. I am gay’ Max though before slowly leaning in, kissing Charles softly, Charles kissing back immediately

“Thought you weren’t gay” Charles chuckled, tear stains on his cheeks and chin

“What?” Max asked, still dazed from how good and right the kiss felt

“I’ve heard you mumbling all last week” Charles chuckled again, his hands squeezing Max’s waist softly

“Oh… Well…” Max scratched the nape of his neck “I guess my therapist have gotten into my head”

“No… He wouldn’t do that. He’s just given you a push towards something you couldn’t walk towards yourself” Charles said softly, his green eyes wet from his earlier crying

How could Max not want to kiss Charles when looked like that? So he did. Max leaned back in to kiss Charles

Charles kissed back as well, a little more tender than before

Charles wanted Max- no. Charles needed Max. He needed him in a way no other could give him

He kissed Max a little harder, drawing a yelp out of him as well as Charles pushed Max softly up against the island counter, trapping his body

Charles’ hand went into Max’s hair. It was cut. Charles hated it. Max looked better with longer hair, but he always cut it because Jos said ’It made him look like a faggot’

It wasn’t cut too short, so Charles stilled managed to tug softly, making Max leaning back with a whimper, Charles’ lips going to his throat

“You’re pretty when you cry” Max chocked out, closing his eyes, trying to think of anything else than what it might feel like having Charles inside of him

“Yeah? That’s your kink?” Charles chuckled, his tongue lapping at Max’s throat and over his Adam’s apple

“N-no” Max chocked out… Maybe it was, yes. It definitely turned him on a little, but he didn’t want Charles to cry during sex

“Hm. Shame” Charles hummed, his hands on Max’s hips, pulling him away from the counter, guiding him towards the bedroom again

“Shame?” Max asked confused, Charles pushing him softly to lay down against the bed

“Yeah” Charles hummed, sitting down in between Max’s spread legs, hands just below where his shirt ended “Would love to see you cry in pleasure”

Charles leaned down, kissing Max again, his hands traveling under Max shirt, but he stopped him, pushing at his wrists

Charles stoped, leaning back again, seeing Max’s face turned to the side, his eyes screwed shut, hands tight around Charles’ wrists

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. It’s fine. I’m sorry for pressuring you” Charles said softly, hissing quietly at Max’s strong grip around his wrists

“No, no. I want to. It’s just-… I don’t-… I don’t like m-my…” He had turned his head back to Charles, but his eyes were still screwed shut

“I do. You’re so goddamn beautiful that it hurts to look at you” Charles sighed “And I want to show you just how much I love all of you”

Max whimpered softly. Love? His hands slowly loosening around Charles’ wrists, slowly opening his eyes

“Let me show you” Charles whispered, his eyes soft and wide. Max nodded softly “That’s not enough for me, amour”

“Show me” Max nodded softly

“Thank you. We can always stop if you get too uncomfortable, okay?” Max nodded “Max”

“Yes” He said as soon as Charles said his name

’Good boy’ It sat on Charles tongue. He didn’t say it

Charles didn’t know, but he’d assume that Max had a praise kink- I mean, who wouldn’t in his state?

He didn’t get any praise when he was younger, so Charles had now decided to make it his mission and give Max praise for every little thing

“Lift your arms” Charles said softly

He could feel the hesitation in Max’s hands were they twitched around Charles’s wrists before he pulled them off and over his head, sitting slightly up so Charles could pull the T-shirt over his head

Max fell back against the bed, immediately covering his stomach with his arms

Charles leaned down, kissing Max from his lips, down his chin, along his jaw, down his neck, over his throat, and down to his collarbone

Max whimpered every time Charles moved to a new spot, arching his neck to let Charles have more space, his arms tightening around his stomach

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mon amour. So fucking beautiful” Charles hummed, kissing down Max’s chest softly

Max moaned softly when Charles licked over one of his nipples, causing him to hold his hand over his mouth, giving Charles the chance to kiss further down, closing in on his stomach

Max felt like pushing Charles away, but why would he? Max thought it over

If it was anybody else, he hadn’t let it go this far, but it wasn’t anybody else. It was Charles. Charles who had saved him. Charles who has saved his life. He wouldn’t find that part of his body disgusting. Would he?

Max moved his other arm, letting both arms fall to his sides

Charles looked up at Max, slightly surprised he had gotten him comfortable, but he loved it nonetheless

Max, the broken man with no proper childhood, was comfortable around Charles

Charles continued to kiss Max’s stomach, slowly getting lower, kissing the skin above Max’s waistband of his sweats

Max wanted to thread his fingers through Charles’ hair, so he did. The dark brown locks soft around Max’s rough fingers

“Charlie” Max whined quietly as Charles darted his tongue out, licking at the stubble burns he had accidentally made seeming he hadn’t shaven in a couple of days

“Yes, amour?” Charles asked teasingly, leaning back to see the burns he had accidentally made down Max’s pale body

“Please” Max whimpered “I n-need you” He stuttered, blushing red from the embarrassment of sounding needy and desperate

“Yeah? You need me?” Charles chuckled, to which Max mumbled out a low ‘yes’ “Alright. Sweats and briefs off” Charles patted the outside of Max’s thigh before he went to the night stand, taking the lube from the drawer

Charles turned back to the bed, seeing Max now completely naked and laid further up the bed

“Mon dieu. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are” Charles sighed with a slight smile, his hands caressing Max’s thighs, watching as his hard cock twitched at the affection, leaking slightly

“This isn’t fair” Max whined, tugging at the hem of Charles’ shirt

Charles took the hint, chuckling softly as he pulled the T-shirt off of himself

Max almost drooled at the sight, but was quickly replaced with a small pout “I’ll never look like you” He mumbled

“I don’t want you to, amour. I want you to look just like this” He murmured, opening the lube bottle, pouring some on his fingers

“Remember; you can tell me to stop whenever, okay?” Charles reminded Max as he warmed up the lube

Max nodded quietly “Amour” Charles said, in a tone that was slightly warningly

“Yes” Max said ��Jus’-… please Charlie” Max whined, bucking his hips slightly, trying to show Charles how much he needed him

Charles only chuckled softly, circling Max’s hole softly, making Max moan softly, his hands gripping at the sheets

Though, his hands immediately flew to Charles’ biceps when Charles slowly pushed in his finger

“F-fuck- Charles” Max whimpered, feeling Charles slowly moved his finger, twisting it and slowly moving in and out of him

When Max was loose enough, Charles pushed in a second finger, Max moaning at the action, his back arching

“Dieu. Why haven’t I made a move before, hm? You’re so fucking beautiful like this” Charles chuckled, his fingers slowly and softly moving in and out of Max, his lips attached to Max’s bent knee, most likely giving him burns there as well

“C-Charles. Please- i-i need it so bad. Please” Max had never thought in a million years he’d be begging for Charles’ cock inside him

“Shh. I got you, baby” Charles soothed, slowly pulling his fingers out of Max, loving the whine that escaped Max’s lips

Charles wiped his fingers on the inside of Max’s thigh so he could pull his own sweats and briefs down

When Charles had lubed himself and lining himself up with Max’s fluttering hole, Max held his hands against Charles’ abdomen, stopping him softly

“I-i’ve never… I’ve never had sex with a man- I don’t know what I’m doing” Max said, more confident then when they had started

“I know, amour. I got you, okay? Just lay back and tell if you want to stop or something you want to do different” Charles said, a slight smirk on his lips

Max nodded softly “Yes” He whimpered softly

“Good boy” It flew past Charles’ lips before he could stop it, but when he saw how red Max’s whole body got, he didn’t want to take it back

Max was about to come back with a witty comment, but could only moan when Charles slowly pushed into him, stopping every few inches, letting Max adjust before he continued

Charles kissed along Max’s collarbone, feeling him loosen around his cock

“C-Char… Please” Max breathed out, trying to move against Charles, having no success to get any kind of friction

“Come on. Finish my name. I like how you say your S’” Charles chuckled, thrusting softly once, Max moaning softly

“Charles” Max gasped when Charles thrusted once again

Max had been insecure about his lisp forever ever since they were kids, and Charles had loved the way Max said his name just as long

Charles set a pace and rhythm that worked for him, and one Max didn’t have any problem with

Charles put a hand under Max’s body, angling his hips slightly so it was easier for Charles to hit his prostate, making Max moan loudly and chant his name like a prayer

“Charles- please- I need… I need to come, please” Max almost cried out, nails digging into Charles’ back

Charles wrapped his hand around Max’s neglected cock, stroking him at the same speed of his hips “Come for me, amour”

Max’s nails dug into Charles’ back so hard he was afraid he’d break his skin as he came, covering his own stomach and Charles’s hand with his cum

Charles slowed his hand and hips down, moaning Max’s name softly into his pale neck as he came himself

“I like your hair longer” Charles murmured, kissing Max’s shoulder softly as they sat in the bathtub, Charles’ hand on Max’s stomach, stroking his thumb over his skin

Max sighed “My dad-“

“Fuck what he thinks. He’s not your father. He’s a man who treats a child like a subject” Charles said softly, kissing Max’s cheek bone just under where his black eye shone ended

Max wanted to cry. Charles was right. Jos never treated him like a son. Maybe for the first few years, but when Max became competitive in karting, he became a subject

“Move in” Charles said, sensing Max wanted to change the subject “I don’t like you living somewhere he knows” Charles held Max closer “Please”

Max nodded softly “I will. I want nothing else… But, we’ll have to learn Sassy and Jimmy to be nice to Leo” He chuckled

[faatxma]

Blooming Seedlings

Pairing: King George III x Reader

Synopsis: You were truly surprised when you saw that the seeds your husband planted started to become seedlings.

Warnings: Fluff

You have been feeling nauseous for a while now but ignored it. As you started to feel dizzy you knew something was up with you. It has been two weeks since your Honeymoon period ended. You and George spent every minute together from waking up in each others arms to stargazing at night.

Your were currently knitting as you observed George pacing around nervously, he was writing a speech for the British council members something he has to do every other month. As he had his duties you also had yours which were picking your Ladies in waiting.

'Stop pacing my love, you’ll do a wonderful job believe me.' You said as you stood up placing your hands onto his shoulders.

'I don’t know why I’m so nervous.' He chuckled turning around to pull you into his arms. You giggled pecking his lips knowing that he was truly improving regarding his illness. You remembered like it was yesterday where Reynolds got you and told you what George had planned. Knowing that the Royal Physician was known for his torturous therapy methods terrified you.

You were happy when you could stop it even before it began. You loved him the way he was, as a mad man as farmer George and king George at the end of the day he was your husband and you loved him.

He wanted to get better for you, you appreciated it but he was enough and will always be enough.

'Will you be alright without me?' He asked nudging you nose cutely. You nodded it’s only going to be a day and Brimsley and your handmaid Emilia would be with you.

'Show them who you are, my love.’ you smiled stroking his cheeks. As you suddenly felt nauseous but you tried to suppress it, but George caught it.

'Everything alright my dear?' He asked with concern in his face.

'I’m alright nothing to worry about my king, now go show them what you are capable off.' You grinned walking him out.

'I’ll see you tomorrow night.' He said placing a long kiss on your lips.

'Have a safe journey.'

After George and Reynolds left you decided to take a walk through the Garden it was a nice sunny day that quickly turned into a gloomy one. You heard Brimsley suggesting you to return but as stubborn as you were you ignored his suggestion. You saw Emilia and some other maids picking flowers for your bedroom. Something they did, every three days they use the dried ones as scent bags for your wardrobe which leaves a nice floral scent.

They greeted you as you passed and you greeted them back. But before you could even focus your attention on your walk you felt dizzy, your head started to throb and your were sure you could vomit any second.

The change in your body demeanor was picked on quickly by your Maid Emilia who was about to ask if everything was alright. But before she could to that your eyes rolled back and your body dropped to the ground.

And all you could hear were screams.

'What is with her, I demand an answer' you heard the hushed voice of your husband behind the door. You were confused he wasn’t supposed to be back that soon. You didn’t remember what had happened but the way your head was throbbing, you knew that you must’ve fainted. You opened your eyes seeing that you were in you chambers covered in blankets.

'-george, George' you muttered trying to get someone’s attention and by the gasp you heard and the rushed steps towards you, you could see your maid Emilia appearing next to you. She looked like she had been in distress but you could see it changing when she saw you wide awake.

'Your Majesty, thank god you are awake' she said reaching for a cup of water to give it to you.

'What happened to me? and where is my husband here?' you said tiredly trying to sit up so you could drink some water. Emilia helped you take a couple of swallows until you turned your face to the still visible argument outside.

'You fainted yesterday and I called to doctor immediately to exam you your Majesty.'

‘Yesterday? I’ve been unconscious that long? What of my husband why is he here what about his speech?' You asked her confused.

'The doctor is outside with him, your husband just arrived from his council meeting, after he heard what happened.' She said picking on her fingers nervously.

'I want to see him please.' She nodded walking hastily to the door. You could hire her talk even if it wasn’t that clear.

'Your Majesty she’s awake and asking for you.' Before she could even get back in your husband rushed past her without a glimpse.

'Oh darling' he said with glassy eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt bad that you hadn’t said anything before.

'I’m fine, George' you said showing him a small smile grabbing his hands gently.

'No, you aren’t you should’ve told me that you didn’t feel well, I’d have never left you.' He muttered pressing kisses to the back of your hands.

'What of your speech?' you asked.

'Forget the speech my wife just fainted do you really think my thoughts are still on that? You should’ve told me that you weren’t feeling well.' He said frustrated.

'His majesty is right my Queen, someone in your condition should’ve said something earlier.' The doctor said walking into the room with his intern behind him.

'What condition?' You asked nervously, was it a incurable disease? Or something remotely close?

'Oh my apologies my Queen I thought you were well aware that you are 7 weeks pregnant.'

'Y-you said pregnant?' you heard George say next to you.

'I’m with child?' you asked feeling your tears escaping your eyes. You were with child the whole time without even noticing. If you think back your monthly period hasn’t been coming in a while and the tenderness in your breast was also an indicator that you were pregnant.

'Yes your Majesty congratulations I’ll be going now. If you need anything feel free to call for me.' With that he left you alone with your husband. Your staff also departed but not without congratulating the both of you.

When the door closed you husband leaped up to engulf you in a hug, you could feel his lefty hand on you lower stomach were a bulge was starting forming.

'A little king or a little queen' he whispered happily to himself trying to process what he just heard.

'You are going to be a father.' You said gently wrapping your arms around his neck.

'And you are going to be a mother.' he leaned down pressing pecks onto your face.

'Seems like it didn’t take to long until my seeds started to become seedlings making your womb bloom, my love.'

'They sure didn’t take to long and with no time our little bundle will find the daylight.'

[psychopomp-recital]

🔥Subtle Brigid Worship⚒️

Completely inspired by @khaire-traveler ‘s subtle worship series!

➤ Light candles in your home

- (bonus points if the scent matches her associations)

➤ Read poetry books and blogs

➤ Build lego sets

➤ Clean your house or space + keep up with repairs

➤ Have bonfires with your community

➤ Swim in lakes or rivers

➤ Write poetry or creative writing

➤ Keep a grief journal

➤ Visit farms/care for livestock

➤ Donate or volunteer at animal shelters

➤ Have a picnic at sunrise

➤ Make your house a home with decor you love

➤ Share a warm drink with her

➤ Make your phone wallpaper something associated with her/art of her

�� Sit around a fire

➤ Take regenerative baths or showers

➤ Create jewelry or sculptures

➤ Wear clothes or jewelry that suit her energy

➤ Learn a home craft like knitting, crochet or embroidery

➤ Make and mend your clothes

➤ Hang a Brigid’s cross by your door or kitchen

➤ Bake or Cook and share the meal with others

➤ Simmer pots with associated herbs

➤ Volunteer with domestic violence or queer shelters

➤ Work towards and embrace self love

➤ Help mothers & new parents in your community

➤ Grow your own food

➤ Sing songs that make you happy outloud

➤ Show hospitality wherever you can

➤ Have confidence in yourself and your worth

➤ Take care of your body and mind

➤ Go to therapy

➤ Aide the grieving and the dying

➤ Volunteer at a children’s hospital

➤ Do small acts of kindness

➤ Have honeyed or cinnamon toast

➤ Tell folktales, especially to the next generation

➤ Share stories of ancestors, not just those who are blood related

➤ Light a match

➤ Keep a stuffed sheep, cow, ox or other livestock in your home

➤ Wear perfume that reminds your of her

➤ Research Irish history & culture / Gaeilge

➤ Keep artwork of her by your door or kitchen

➤ Keep iron around your space especially your kitchen

➤ Wear iron jewelry

➤ Learn to Blacksmith or Invent something

➤ Create a community either online or irl

➤ Take care of your hair

➤ Go to a cooking or baking class

➤ Take a pottery or quilting class

➤ Foster animals

➤ Befriend your neighbors

➤ Smile and embrace life

➤ Cry and embrace death/grief when it comes into your life (more then just physical death)

➤ Read books and educate yourself

➤ Keep first aide in your home

➤ Get CPR/AED/First Aid certifications

➤ Learn herbalism

➤ Go on walks outside, especially during spring

➤ Make a wish at a well

➤ Embrace your authentic self

➤ Be an ally of or attend LGBTQIA+ events

➤ Eat fruits like apples and blackberries

➤ Learn self defense

➤ Research your ancestors, not just those related by blood

➤ Play ttrpgs or larp

➤ Keep a journal or a commonplace notebook

➤ Support small business and artists

➤ Plant native yellow flowers around your house

➤ Wear shawls, especially when you’re sick

➤ Learn grounding techniques

➤ Washing your face

➤ Eating / Drinking dairy

➤ Create collages

➤ Paint your nails with associated colors or symbols

More to be added later!

[yuespropagandablog]

Hello esteemed mutual. If you are reading this, then that means my propaganda is working. But you might still have questions, so I am here to answer them.

What is Falsettos?

A damn good musical.

But time to get serious. It's a sung-through musical written by William Finn and James Lapine, with Lapine also writing the music and lyrics. Falsettos is a two-act musical, like many, but it's important here because Falsettos is actually two musicals in one. The first act is March of the Falsettos, and the second act is Falsettoland. These are the last two installments of the Marvin Trilogy. The first part, In Trousers, flopped on off-Broadway and is also not part of Falsettos. Are you following?

The first acts centers on a Jewish man named Marvin (the main character of the Marvin Trilogy, who would've thought) and his homosexual relation with Whizzer, and how that impacts the family. He's left his wife Trina and son Jason to be with Whizzer, but Marvin is also Marvin, and loves to have a tight-knit family that includes all of them, but fails to see how his wish impacts the others. The second act takes place two years after the first and it's all about Jason's bar mitzvah, but oh, oh no, it's a homosexual story set in the 80s. Yeah folks, I am going to be upfront: this musical does not have a happy ending. Spoiler. I know. But I just want people to know what they're getting themselves into.

The show has a lot to say about gay life in the 70s and 80s, gender roles and masculinity, traditional family, illness, and Judaism. Yes, you cannot separate the Judaism from this show, no matter how hard a Spanish production tries.

Where can I watch it?

The original Falsettos debuted in 1992 on Broadway. I know it from its 2016 Broadway revival. There are, uh, slime tutorials for both (and also for In Trousers if you're interested), and the 2016 version also got a proshot that was aired on PBS, so they did have to censor some language. RIP "You save lives and I save chicken fat, I can't fucking deal with that", you will forever be missed. This link totally definitely does not lead to a YouTube upload of that proshot, what do you mean?

There are also a bunch of other productions, sometimes with footage, sometimes not. I actually saw the Dutch version in 2021 in Amsterdam (probably while I had COVID, but in my defense, I tested negative before I boarded my train!)

Is there a trailer or something?

Yes, here's a trailer for the proshot.

Here is their Tony performance, which is also my favourite song of the show:

(They did take out the "Lighbulb up the ass" and "I can't fucking deal with that", because America is America. But at least we got Andrew Rannell's boner in return?)

And for funsies, here's the Tony Awards performance of the OBC:

(They did censor the words "homosexuals" and "lesbians", unless that was the original lyrics. I dunno. I am not very familiar with the original one.)

You implied AIDS. Are there other content warnings?

Yes. AIDS will be the main theme of the second act. You can ignore it by just turning off the show after the song What More Can I Say, but that is obviously not the full show. There's also some period-typical homophobia, as in in act one, Jason is afraid that his father's homosexuality is a fatal hereditary disease. There are also a lot of dysfunctional relationship dynamics in act one, including one instance of physical abuse. Act two has the AIDS of it all and because of that, the major character death warning.

But is there also fun to be had?

Yes, definitely! One thing that makes Falsettos a good show is the tonal whipslash. Both act one and act two start out as the funniest shit you've ever seen and then BAM, drama. It is kind of impressive how the show does that. It has stellar comedic songs like Four Jews in a Room Bitching, My Father's A Homo/Everyone Tells Jason to See a Psychiatrist, I'm Breaking Down, Jason's Therapy, Year of the Child, Miracle of Judaism, The Baseball Game, A Day in Falsettoland, Everybody Hates His Parents and whatever the fuck March of the Falsettos (the song) is.

The first half of both acts you can't stop laughing and the second half of both acts you can't stop crying. That's Falsettos, baby!

Does the music slap?

Oh yeah. It is a fully sung-through musical. If that's not your jam, then you're better off skipping it. It also has a more "traditional" musical theatre sound, whatever that might mean. As you saw in the previous section, it has a lot of great comedic songs, with stellar lyrics like "Look, look, look, look, look, it's a lesbian from next door!/Followed by her lover who's a lesbian from next door too!", "Hepa-hepa-hepatitis-hepatitis?", "We're watching Jewish boys who cannot play baseball play baseball", "You have paintings of dicks!/Don't talk to me about taste!", "Lightbulbs in the ass!", the entire "You are going to kill your mother" section, "Homosexuals!!!!!" and of course the opening line of the entire show "Four Jews in a room bitching". And many more. But don't be fooled, because this song also has some emotional bangers (mostly in the second part of the acts due to the aforementioned tonal shift).

Are there German characters in this musical?

Mendel's last name Weisenbachfeld sounds German. Is that close enough?