#but halloween has SUCKED for me this year and it's my favorite holiday SO i had to mark it somehow
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if patrick bateman were a woman
cowboy like me [bonus chapter]
surprise!! happy halloween!!!! may your day be spooky and your sex be filthy. here's a bonus chapter of clm to celebrate. love y'all
!!! despite being cowboy joel and his reader, this is not canon. does not happen in the cowboy like me series. i wish. it's just a little bit of spooky szn fun with my two favorite star-crossed lovers. !!!
pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: sarah throws a halloween party. you and joel have a little too much fun.
warnings: as pwp as a macfrog fic can get, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lil bit titty appreciation, a singular daddy mention, a single slice of degradation, but also praise kink, unprotected piv sex, creampie, it's set on halloween, alcohol consumption, cursing
word count: 4k
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Ice, pretzels, lime juice. Ice, pretzels, lime juice.
I’m giving you one job. Ice, pretzels, lime juice. That’s it.
That sounds like three jobs, you’d said.
Sarah ignored you. Be here at seven, alright? Ice – pretzels – lime juice!
It’s seven thirty. You’re finally on her front porch. The tiny section of bare skin between your stockings and black skirt is pimpled with goosebumps. With each inhale you suck in the sickly-sweet scent of fake blood, splattered across your face. You have a bag of ice slung over one arm, a bag of pretzels balanced on top, a bottle of juice hanging from your fingers and an axe under your elbow.
Only – it’s not lime juice. And the axe is plastic.
Sarah opens the door and spots your blunder instantly. “That’s lemon.”
“I know. They didn’t have any lime.”
“They didn’t have any lime? Where the hell did you go?”
“It’s Halloween, Sarah. Everybody and their fucking grandma is drinking tonight. Lemon tastes the exact –”
“Ah!” She holds a finger up. Her red cape flutters in the breeze. “It does not taste the same. Otherwise, why would it be two separate things?”
“Hey, Wonder Woman,” you drone, “mind letting me in? I’m fucking freezing.”
She scoffs, and steps aside. Mutters, “’s not the same thing,” as you pass.
You click down the hall, head rolling to check out her decorating. The living room and kitchen are lit by constellations of tiny tealights, flickering and blinking and casting tall, warped shadows across the walls. There’s a purple neon sign sat against the wall that reads Spooky. By the fireplace sit the two pumpkins she and her boyfriend carved last night; she’d sent you photos and asked you to pick a winner. When you chose the Iron Man head over the silhouette of Tinkerbell, she sent back a middle finger emoji.
Y: It’s cleaner cut. What do you expect? Shoddy work, Miller.
S: asshole.
Sarah’s slotting the ice into the freezer. Struggling, by the sound of it. You swing back into the kitchen to find Wonder Woman on her ass, hammering her fist against the frozen pack to fit it in.
You’re about to offer help, when someone else does it for you. Someone lower, gravellier. A voice like thunder in the distance, a storm approaching.
“You need a hand?” he asks, and when you turn, you almost drop your fucking axe.
He glances to you as he emerges from the dark hallway, the warm glow licking at his graying flicks of hair, nestling in the deep-set lines on his face. His eyes dart down to where your fingers now clutch the plastic handle, holding it against the hem of your skirt like it’ll do anything to cover your modesty.
Your modesty, meaning – the line of sexy black lace curling around your thighs, snug against the supple skin.
What the fuck are you doing here? you mouth, as Joel paces across the kitchen towards his daughter.
He shrugs, palms outstretched. It’s my house?
You roll your eyes, run your tongue like lightning across your scarlet lips. Sarah straightens up, huffs hair from her face and stares blankly at Joel.
He bends, takes the entire bag in one huge palm, and reorganizes the drawer with the other. Your eye drifts to his bicep, flexing under the tight seam of a dark tee. The bag of ice cradled in his arm leaves weak little droplets, running down the tan skin to the crook of his elbow. You want to fucking lick them up, gather the frozen beads on your tongue, hike up up up to the curve of his shoulder, the crook of his neck, the –
“Hey.” Sarah clicks her fingers in front of your face. “You hearin’ me?”
“Huh? No, yeah. No. I wasn’t lis– What did you say?”
She sighs again. Joel groans as he pushes off his knee and stands tall behind her. Wipes the water from his arm with one swipe of his palm.
“Would you put these in a bowl?” his daughter asks, shoving the bag of pretzels into your suited chest. She shuffles off, announcing she’s going to pick a playlist for the night.
Suited is perhaps giving you too much credit. You’re in a mini skirt and waistcoat, a red tie slung loose around your neck. You’ve a clear poncho draped over your shoulders, but with the heat from the million and one fucking candles – and the flush that the forty-something-year-old with his wide frame and fitted sweatpants and toned chest and his big fucking hands has cast over you – it’ll soon be discarded to the newel post.
But when you reach up for the bowl on the top shelf of the cabinet, pushing forward with a palm on the countertop, the marble digging into your pelvis and forcing your ass to jut out – you think yourself pretty fucking smug to be in a skirt that hugs your cheeks and not much else.
You turn, the lip of the bowl in your fingers, and smile sweetly at Joel, whose gaze returns north as you approach him.
“You got nothin’ better to do with your night than babysit a bunch of twenty-five-year-olds?” you murmur, spilling the bag into the blue bowl. You place a pretzel on your tongue, humming at the taste.
Joel smiles, popping the cap off his beer. He spills the amber liquid into his mouth. “I’ll be in my room.”
Your eyebrows lift. “That so? You need any company in there?”
“Nope. Rangers game is on. I’ll be busy.”
The words ghost across your lips. You’ll be busy, you breathe. Joel nods. Then looks you up and down.
“American Psycho?”
“What?”
He flicks his wrist up and down your figure. “What’s his name, again? Pat–”
“Patrick Bateman,” you say together. You nod.
“That’s the one.” Then he turns, leans his jaw nearer until his lips line with your ear. Your eyes shoot across to the empty doorway. Sarah’s skipping song after song in the living room.
Joel’s finger slips beneath the lace trim of your stockings, tugging gently. “I don’t remember ‘im in these, though,” he says, voice low.
You gulp. Swallow to push your heart back into place. “Well,” you glance down, lifting your thigh closer to him, “if he were a woman, he woulda dressed like this.”
“That’s somethin’ I’d like to see,” Joel murmurs, eyes locked on the place where lace separates from skin.
“Yeah?”
He nods. Growls, “Yeah.”
And then he’s walking away.
Within an hour, the house is jumping. Literally. Almost.
You sit at the kitchen island, sipping on a beer, staring down the hall at the sea of bodies – of nylon and polyester, of purples and oranges, of headbands and props and cloaks and hats. There are a lot more than forty people here – a lot more than Sarah intended to turn up.
A lot more than you know, too. She’s barely even four years younger than you, but most of these kids look like they just walked out of middle school. Of the handful of faces you recognize, one is sat opposite you, his arm draped over Sarah’s shoulder, her hand locked in his. She and Ty have been dating for a year now, surviving long-distance when she jets back off to school every few months.
The other you know, unfortunately for you, is swaying by your side. Leaning a little too heavily into you. Asking you questions about college, and then talking over your answers to tell you stories about his college. Asking you questions about films you like, and then interrupting to gawk at the titles you reel off. The only times he doesn’t jump in over your answer, are the times he’s asking who you think might win in a fight between prime Mike Tyson and prime Muhammad Ali. And that’s only because you don’t have an answer to give him.
Jace. Ty’s best friend. Fucking – loser.
“And who the fuck are you s’posed to be, anyways?” he asks, slinging a heavy arm over your shoulder. He reeks of beer, warm and stale. His jaw’s swinging, cheeks popping and suckling on a shriveled piece of gum.
You scowl, shrugging the uncomfortable weight from the nape of your neck. “Patrick Bateman,” you mutter.
“Who?”
“Christian Bale. You know, when he –” Sarah mimes lifting an axe over her shoulder, takes a swing through the air, across the island to Jace.
“No fucking idea,” he says, shaking his head. You’re not surprised.
“Where’s your axe?” Ty asks, as Sarah nuzzles back into his side.
You shrug. “Saw someone using it to stir the punch earlier. ‘s probably in the toilet or something.”
He laughs, flashing his dimpled cheeks. He’s got glistening eyes beneath long, black eyelashes. He’s handsome. Sharp jaw, full lips. Sarah links her fingers at his side, plants her cheek against his shoulder. She’s comfortable. She’s safe. Your chest warms at the sight.
He squeezes her arm, and they share a meaningful glance before there’s a yell from across the kitchen, and their attention is diverted.
When they turn to watch two of Sarah’s high school friends sword-fighting, wielding a plastic lightsaber and your axe, you slink off, swiping two beers from the fridge. Swift and silent, you scale the stairs and fade into the darkened hallway at the top, in pursuit of your own dark-eyed, sharp-jawed comfort.
The sliver of light at the end of the hall draws you in, footsteps silent along the soft carpet. Up here, tucked away in the corner of the house, far from the rattling music and rumble of boisterous chatter – you can hear the soft roar of a crowd, the crack of ball against bat.
Your hip nudges the door open, trickle of condensation running over your knuckles. Joel’s eyes are already on you. He’s laying on his bed, legs outstretched, knee cocked. One arm lies idly on his thigh. You get the feeling he shifted it quickly when he saw the door move.
He balances his chin on the end of the remote, purses his lips and lifts his head. “Now,” he mumbles, “you’re s’posed to be downstairs.”
You shrug, holding the bottles up. “Thought you might need a top-up.”
His eyes thin. He sits up straight, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You come to a stop between his knees, holding the beer down to him. He hums, taking it with his eyes locked on yours.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, and his eyes begin to drift down.
You tilt your head back at the same time he does, lifting the lip of your own bottle. The cold drink washes over your tongue, bitter and blunt in its taste, leaving a furry feeling on your gums. When your chin lowers again, Joel’s hand is on the back of your thigh.
He’s staring at the two knolls between you – your breasts round, nipples peaking under the tight waistcoat.
“Welcome,” you reply, swirling the liquid around in the curved glass. Your voice is barely there. But he hears you, and he must hear the want laced deep through that one quiet word, because he instantly slides his beer onto his nightstand.
He curves both hands around your thighs, fingers lifting higher and higher between your legs until they’re crossing over lace and onto bare skin.
You shuffle forward, leaning your arms on his shoulders and propping your knees on the bed either side of his body. Your skirt rides up, exposing the shard of shocking red lace beneath the pinstripe material.
Joel sees it. Like it’s a rag and he’s a bull. It charges something deep inside him. Something that awakens beneath the thin line of fabric between your legs.
You can feel your pulse in your clit. Fluttering, fucking – hammering. Your cunt feels painfully empty, clenching around nothing. Joel’s palms surf across the tops of your thighs until his fingers are teetering along the hem of your skirt.
“Off,” he instructs, swatting the poncho away.
You shake it from your shoulders the same way you shook the blond downstairs off. Joel nods as the material crumples to the floor. He hooks a hand under your knee and yanks your body closer to his. You almost throw the beer bottle across his bed.
“J– fucking hell, my –”
“Shut up,” he clips, and grabs the beer from your grasp to deposit it alongside his own.
His hands find the tiny buttons of your waistcoat, fingers slip through the gaps between them where your skin peeks through. You can feel his hot breath on your chest. A wave of need washes over you, a desire from deep within your marrow to feel him everywhere. His breath, his tongue, his hands. All of him.
Your entire body weight rests on his shoulders, your fingers locking his shirt in two tight fists. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. Barely seems to notice. He pulls apart the first button, watches with a dark gaze as your breasts spill over. The second button pops open easily, and they bounce lower. When he unhooks the third, they drop into place, nipples pointed, welcoming him in between them.
“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he whispers as he leans in, mouth flattening against the smooth skin between them. “No bra or nothin’.”
“Knew you’d be here,” you reply, head rolling back as he licks a trail across to the darker flesh of your nipple. His lips close around it and he suckles gently. Your nails dig into his scalp.
He pushes the waistcoat over your shoulders and it drops to the carpet, pooled inside the shell of poncho. As soon as it falls, his hands begin the climb up the seam of your thigh, resting on the brush of red – where he feels the quickly dampening mark on the fabric.
“Thought as much,” he says, head cocking to watch your expression warp as he rubs slow circles into your clit. His voice is as soft as his touch, innocent almost, when he asks, “She like that?”
“Ye-ah,” you choke, leaning back.
“Yeah,” he agrees, and uses his other hand to fish beneath his sweatpants. He rubs himself under the gray cotton, watches as your fingers clutch at the waistband to tug it down, releasing him.
His heavy cock springs up between your bodies, dabs precome on the pointed tail of your tie. You giggle, loosening the knot and pulling the thin silk over your head. Your hands wrap around him, twisting and pumping and dragging the milky arousal from his slit down the smooth, warm skin. Joel’s breath catches when your thumbs swipe across his head.
His fingers slip behind your knees and pull them apart, pull them wider on the mattress. You lean forward, chest brushing against his parted lips, taking your panties in one hand and guiding him along your slit with the other.
You cover him in your arousal, the veined skin soon slick and pearlescent. His wide head slips between your opening, notching against your entrance and forcing the breath from your lungs.
His hands sit firmly on your waist, pushing down on your hips, pushing and pushing until he sinks snug into your cunt. When he pauses, his mouth agape and eyes stuck on the sight of his body connecting to yours, you whine.
“More,” you mewl, voice dripping with need, drizzling all over him.
“We gotta –”
“More.”
“Baby,” Joel says, voice flat but crumbling. “We gotta go slow. I’m gonna – You’re gonna make me come, dressed like that, if we go too quick.��
But fuck, you want to feel him. Want him to buck his hips and fill you in one go – fuck the pain. Fuck the discomfort, fuck the way your walls would clamp in a vice grip around him. You want him to fuck you. Want to be fucked so good that you have to time your moaning with the bassline of the music downstairs, unable to contain the sounds in your throat. Fucked so good that you waddle out of the room, that you fling yourself back onto the couch and wince in pain, a sharp memory of the breadth of him shooting between your legs.
Your hips circle, the heat of your cunt swirling around and around on his tip. He groans, hands tightening on your waist to hold you still.
“Stop it, darlin’,” he growls, the words clawing from between his teeth.
“F-fuck me, then,” you moan, curling your back to slowly edge down on him.
“Ask nicer.”
You smile, heavy lids falling closed. “Please?”
His hands roam around the curve of your ass. He starts to push again. “Nicer.”
Your mouth opens wider the further he slides into you. The more he claims of your body, the further you open for him, the warmer your welcome. Your head tips back, eyes tighten until you see stars. When you feel a weight around your neck, you flutter your lashes open, blink the cyan-colored sparkles from your vision.
Joel pulls your jaw back down to face him. Squeezes on your pulse, holding you between his middle finger and thumb.
“Nicer,” he demands.
You lean in, small hands linking around his thick wrist. “Fuck me, please, daddy,” you whisper.
And he smiles like a fucking devil. Eyes drawn black like ink. He pulls you in until your chin brushes against the rough bristle of his own, lines his bottom lip with yours.
Into your mouth, he asks, “You think you can take it, babygirl? Think it’ll fit?”
You nod desperately, anchoring yourself on his wrist. “Know it will.”
He’s only halfway in. Your heartbeat is thudding around your body, focusing hardest on your clit. Your hips move again, and Joel allows it, sitting back to watch as you sink down further.
“Go on,” he says, watching your body slowly attach to his, “’f you think you can do it. Be a big girl ‘n take it. Slow.”
Something caught between a laugh and a whimper drags between your painted lips – something dripping in desire, built from a need to prove yourself to him, to take all of him inside your body, to feel him in the deepest parts of yourself. You push on him, loosen his grip around your neck and flatten your palms on his chest. And you curve your back, pushing him deeper.
“’s my girl,” Joel says, quietly, as if to himself. “This what you wanted? Comin’ up here, dressed like that?”
Your teeth hold onto your bottom lip. “Like what?” you purr, leaning forward until your noses brush.
Joel tips his chin up, lips flush against yours. “Like a little fuckin’ slut.”
You laugh weakly, feeling him finally in his entirety. “Fuck.”
Joel’s hands take your waist, pushing you down until the pain sends bolts of lightning across your vision. The bruising feeling of his head against your cervix. The sweet stretch of your skin opening around his.
“Beggin’ for it, weren’t ya? ‘n now look, you can’t hardly take it.”
“I can take it,” you hiss back, bracing yourself on the mattress. Your hips lift, holding onto him, bouncing up and down steadily. “I can take it,” you repeat, like a mantra, like the only thing keeping you in the room still. The only thing reminding your body to keep moving.
Joel holds a palm steady against the bottom of your stomach, rubs his thumb delicately against your skin. “So deep, baby. ‘m so fuckin’ deep inside you. That feel nice?”
The meat of your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs. You’re quickening, eyes screwing shut. He feels so good. Fills you up so fucking good. Your legs start to loosen, knees weakening the more you fuck yourself on him. Your head drops between your shoulders when his thumb lowers, circles gently at your clit.
“Keep – keep doing that. Fuck, Joel – touch me. Keep touching me.”
“’boutta come, ain’t you?”
“Sh-shut up.”
“Yeah,” he says, “she’s about to come.”
“Shut up,” you hiss, hips rolling now, losing rhythm between the split of his cock inside you and the lull of his thumb on your clit. Your back arches, vision begins to blur. Your lungs close in on themselves as you give one final gasp to the ceiling, and let go.
Your walls clamp hard around him, and in one swift movement, your bodies are flipped. When you open your eyes again, you’re on your back, Joel’s figure towering over you.
“’attagirl,” he mutters, palms flat against the underside of your thighs. He pushes them flat, folding you in two, your knees resting by your shoulders. “So close, darlin’. Ain’t gonna last.”
You’re shaking your head, holding onto his neck, thighs trembling. “I – can’t, Joel.”
“Yeah, you can. You can,” he assures, dipping his head to place his lips on yours. Your mouth opens up for him, tongue falls against his own. It’s barely a kiss – you’re licking at one another, sure, but there’s nothing tender or gentle about it. Joel pulls away only to glance down and guide himself back inside you. “Gonna be my good girl, aren’t you? Gonna make me come.”
With one seamless thrust, he’s back inside you, pressing your legs harder against your torso. You whine, a blur of pain and pleasure mixing where he fucks you.
“Good girl,” he says, tongue skimming along his top lip. “Nice ‘n wide, that’s it.”
Your back arches into him, arms tighten around his neck, lips settle curved around his own. You’re moaning, his name releasing itself from your mouth in shots of breath. Joel takes your knee and hooks it over his shoulder, letting the other fall to his hip. The angle forces him deeper. Deeper and harder.
But he’s starting to jump. Bucking randomly. He’s panting your name, teeth grazing against your neck in attempt to hold on just a little longer, feel you squeeze him a little more.
“You’re close,” you slur.
“’m close,” he says.
“Gonna come in me –?”
“Baby –”
“– ’n send me – ah – back downstairs full of you? Runnin’ outta me?”
Joel’s head shakes. His eyes tighten. “Fuck, darlin’. Dirty fuckin’ mouth.”
“C’mon,” you beg, “give it to – m-me.”
His hips hammer against yours, punching against the edge of your cunt harshly. You sob out, nails digging into his shoulders, until he halts, and you feel the warmth of him spurting deep inside your body. Feel the way he tenses, empties, and stills.
Your head falls back against the mattress. Joel’s still nuzzled against your neck, breathing labored, lips soaking wet against your skin. You sift your fingers through his hair, combing through it as he comes to.
His chest rocks against yours. Feeling starts to sharpen again, the orgasmic haze starting to bleed into the past. The walls of the house thud with the music from downstairs. You feel the weight of his body on top of yours again.
“Up,” you groan, pushing on his shoulders.
Joel scoffs, pushing against the mattress and rolling over beside you. He slips out, his spend seeping out and spilling onto your thigh.
Your fingers intertwine with his by your side, your nails scrawling into his knuckles.
“I miss you, when you ain’t around,” Joel whispers, glossy eyes blinking at the ceiling. “I’m bored up here.”
You roll onto your side, run your fingers over the halo of sweat around the collar of his shirt. “Good think I ain’t far, then. ‘m only downstairs.”
He smiles. “Downstairs is too far.”
You lean over him and place a soft kiss on his rough cheek. “Just have to keep you at my hip then, don’t I?”
His head turns and his lips find yours. He cups the globe of your head, pulls you harder against his jaw, runs his tongue along your teeth. When you pull away, you shift the damp hair from his glistening forehead.
“You ruined my tie, by the way,” you tell him. “The hell am I supposed to say that is?”
Joel shrugs. “If Patrick Bateman were a woman, ‘n all that.”
#i wrote this in one sitting so please forgive if it's garbage#but halloween has SUCKED for me this year and it's my favorite holiday SO i had to mark it somehow#anyways#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal joel miller#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel
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How do I explain I’m kind of really fixated on dog skeletons after my dog passing away without it coming off like I’m losing it
#it’s just nice thinking about how she’s at peace now#I miss her a lot and it’s painful I want to hold her again I want to tell her how much I love her again but it’s okay now#I’m glad she got to see me get better I just wish she could see me get even healthier and better#I decorate her urn now for the holidays#she has Halloween snoopy stickers and an orange flower on her right now#I still cry over her tomorrow is a month without he but it feels like it’s been five years#but it’s funny her passing away right before Halloween bc she hated being dressed up#it rained the night after she passed too and she hated the rain so it’s kinda funny she died right before her least favorite weather#my other dog still looks for her around the house and outside#she still waits for her#sometimes I think I hear her barking outside#she was doing so well until she wasn’t and that’s what sucks so much
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Just Another Day
Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post
Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰
Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.
Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.
This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.
After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.
"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.
I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.
His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.
We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.
The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.
Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.
In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.
"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.
His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."
My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.
The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.
I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.
The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.
I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.
My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.
Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.
"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.
Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.
He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.
My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.
"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.
"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.
It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.
"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.
"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.
I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes.
He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.
~~~~
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Dean
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#dean x reader fluff#supernatural fan fiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x reader valentine's day#dean winchester x y/n#fluff#spn#supernatural dean#queued#supernatural fandom#dean winchester fluff#supernatural fic#supernatural fan fic#dean winchester#supernatural#fanfic
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‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from
(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)
The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.
Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.
Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.
His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.
He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.
He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.
It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.
Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday.
Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness.
His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.
“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”
(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).
Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.
Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.
He has it pretty much memorized at this point.
It says:
Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)
49.
Holy shit we’re getting old.
Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.
I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?
(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)
Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.
Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.
You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)
You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.
You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it
You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly
You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.
the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)
You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.
Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.
We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.
Love you always!
- Steve :) ♡ ☆
#over-the-moon in love steve absolutely writes a mean love letter#to those who get steve's sign-off -> ilysm that's an old post#shoutout to the partners of birthday-haters#y’all are doing the most and it is appreciated#steddie#liv’s steddie dads verse#steddie dads#steve harrington#eddie munson
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King of Your Heart
Chapter 13 "Let Me Suck Your D*ck in the Bathroom"
HALLOWEEN SPECIAL
summary: All that Frankie has ever wanted to be was your everything. After years of being best friends one phone call changes everything between the two of you.
inspired by The King by Sarah Kinsley
warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 28-29, Frankie 38-39), friends with benefits -> situationship, Frankie isn't a dad, jealously, best friends with benefits, reader is toxic, reader wears makeup, reader has long hair, this chapter is literally just porn but make it halloween, dress code- SLUT IT OUT, smut, drinking, smut, benny's halloween bash!!, smut, frankie is fucking horny for a woman in thigh highs, smut, blowjobs, licking, oh yeah did I mention smut!, princess and frankie are like rabbits, frankie gets drunk, angst with a happy ending finally, no y/n, pet names, possessiveness, triple frontier boys, Tom is dead, reader is a flirt
an: WELCOME TO BENNY'S HALLOWEEN BASH, get ready for a lot of smut, Princess is slut for Frankie as a smooth-dressing cowboy (a little nod to our beloved Whiskey<3).
inside the world of king of your heart
playlist
series mainlist | main masterlist
taglist: @hiroikegawa
"Just sit down and I'm gonna do your hair," You patted the cushiony vanity seat, Frankie never did his hair ever. He liked his messy curls and finishing it off with his hat but tonight was the one night he would ever do this. You smiled and pushed Frankie down into the seat, your fingers combing through his damp curls, his eyes fluttering shut when you lightly scratched his scalp with your new acrylics. You looked at Frankie through the mirror admiring how he shaved his beard and trimmed up his mustache.
"I like it that I can see your face," You hum, grabbing the comb and gel into your hands. "I get to see my handsome Frankie," your words made Frankie blush, and he rolled his eyes trying to act like he didn't care. He loves it when you tell him he's handsome. He feels like he could do anything all because his lady thinks he's beautiful.
You smiled at Frankie and combed the gel through his hair, taming the deep chocolate curls. "Do I have to dress up?" Frankie mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at him. This is 3rd time around having the conversation. It's Halloween, Frankie. It's my favorite holiday. Please for me. You've been saying since you and Frankie got back together. It's time to debut as a couple officially. "Yes you are dressing up and you are going to look so sexy," You say in a sultry tone and smile sweetly at Frankie.
The torture was over when you finished off his hair when a good amount of hairspray. Clean-cut Frankie was something you didn't get to see often and well it was a sight to see. His jawline, his face more chiseled out, and his hair out of his face letting his features be the star of the show. Frankie is beautiful, you always thought he was crafted by a higher power. Frankie is standing in the mirror buttoning up the white dress shirt, you turn him around and take over the last couple of buttons then grab the tie to go around his neck. You take a deep breath as you loop the fabric and pull it up to his neck- fuck.
You set the hat on top of his head and step back looking at your work. Frankie loosened the ties just a bit and your stare was burning into his skin, that's what he always liked about you, never afraid to admire what you like. "Everything you hoped for?" Frankie tilts his head and smirks, jaw dropped and lust blowing your pupils.
"Everything and more...okay I-I need to finish off my makeup, then we are leaving." You shake yourself out of the lustful haze and step around Frankie. Focus. You dip the end of a brush into the red bottle of fake blood. Focus. Frankie watches you drip the red thick liquid from the corners of your mouth, smearing it across your face for an effortless look. Focus. Dipping again but letting the tear of blood run down your chest and leak down your cleavage. Your costume was just an excuse to wear the black Body Con mini dress that you bought months ago, so you threw on the fake blood and glued fangs to your teeth. Just an excuse to slut it out. Frankie certainly appreciates the way your best features were on display.
Frankie comes up behind you moves your hair out of your face and gently kisses your soft neck. You sigh, holding back from the intrusive thoughts of pushing Frankie on the bed and fucking him in costume. "I need to put on my tights then we are leaving," you unwrap yourself from his arms and pull out the black thigh highs, very sheer black mesh with a lace strap at the cuff. Frankie watched you sit on the edge of the bed lifting one leg in the air, he noticed the French tip pedicure that you got done.
The way your body was just on display for him to stare at, Frankie wanted to not leave the house at all tonight. But you and Frankie are not having sex yet, because you think it would be a good idea to date properly, not having sex until 2 months which ends Halloween, that means he can and will make a move tonight. "Princess, you just look so good to eat," Frankie purrs, when he slides between your legs, helping you secure the thigh-high, you were rolling your eyes with a smile on your face.
"Fish, we are not having sex, now let's get to the party it's already 10!" You push Frankie away from you, grabbing your purse, beer, and vodka. Frankie took his sweet time by grabbing the keys and his beer then locking the door, settling the beer in place, and strapping himself in, checking his mirrors. You grew tired of him being childish, your hands wrapping his tie and pulling him close. Your lips melted into his, the feeling of his mustache grazing your sweet soft skin. Frankie slid his tongue to meet yours, his hands caressing your waist and thighs, his fingers snapping the top of the thigh highs making you yelp and moan into his hot wet mouth. His touch was a white flash of heat inching toward your aching core. Desperate to be touched by his calloused strong strategic fingers.
"Let me suck your dick in the bathroom...so drive," You pull away from Frankie, buckling your seatbelt. Frankie grins pulls out of the park and throws it into drive, you laugh holding on to the door. You love seeing Frankie be playful and just a boy. Knowing that you bring that out in him brought such warmth in your heart oozing it through your veins. The streetlights guide you to the front of Benny's house, with people piling in through the one door. You quickly get out of the truck and make your way through people, just a quick hello then you are dragging Frankie to the bathroom.
Frankie was trying to catch up with you but people held him back, it felt like he was in his 20s again trying to get into parties. Once he pushes his way through, he finds you sitting on the kitchen counter serving yourself shots while talking to Benny's girlfriend Mari. You were smiling and making faces every time you took a shot. He thought you looked so pretty in the kitchen light, "There's my cowboy," You call out to him, Mari turns around and laughs at how Frankie looked in his get-up. "Don't laugh at him, he is the most good-looking cowboy ever," You reach out for Frankie, and he takes the bottle from your hands and pours himself a shot, knocking it back. Frankie taking shots was a big deal, he was just always about getting beer drunk.
You don't know what it was but Frankie taking a shot had to be the hottest thing ever. You watched how his adams' apple bobbed when he downed the alcohol. "C'mon baby, let's go dance," Frankie leans into you and whispers into your ear, your face burns from how forward he was being. You want Frankie to like this more. He helps you off the counter takes you to the living room and slips you guys down the hall to Benny's room. Frankie slams the door closed and locks it. You could feel the shots starting to settle in. Frankie backs you into the bathroom and shoves you facing the mirror, your hands bracing yourself from falling forward. Your core started to ache when Frankie started to manhandle you.
You drop down to your knees and your hands quickly undo his belt and unzip his jeans, without any hesitation, you giggled when you saw the tattoo on his plump ass. You turn his hips to show you the tattoo better, you lean toward his tattoo and lick his skin. Frankie hisses fisting your hair. "Be a good girl and suck my dick," Frankie's stern tone captures your attention, and drool falls from your swollen lips. You smile up at Frankie opening your mouth, and kissing the tip of his hard cock, "Sweet girl, you like kissing my cock?" Frankie smugly coos, fists your hair, and thrusts down your throat. You gag just a bit then moaned with a mouth full of cock of the man who makes you forget all common sense. Your eyes were stinging from the salt of your tears, your hands caressing his thick thighs, just letting Frankie take control of your body.
Frankie couldn't stop himself from fucking your throat, loving the sounds that spilled out when he pulled his wet hot cock from your whiny mouth. "F-fuck baby...If I'm gonna cum then it's gonna be in your tight pussy," Frankie growls, forcing you back to your feet, you automatically bend over the sink, spreading your legs, on your tiptoes to level with Frankie. He pushes your dress up, giving a breathtaking view of your ass with a black g-string and the thigh highs gripping deliciously on your plump thighs. His thumb brushes over the tattooed skin then slaps your cheek, watching it jiggle.
"Princess, I need you to your rub your cute little clit for me while I fuck you," Frankie feels guilty for getting you off at least one time by his mouth. His finger slid inside you collecting your wetness and using it to coat his hard cock. His cock notches at your entrance and pushes in without warning.
You reach between your legs, and first, just lightly rub your clit on the palm of your hand, just tease yourself a little bit. "I said touch yourself, little princess," Frankie grunts, pulling himself all the way out and then slamming back into your slicked hole, you let a girlish moan loving how the tip of his throbbing length hits your cervix. Your legs trembled with each thrust, the sweet spot only Frankie can reach being hit and added pressure from the counter right on your pelvis. "Ooh-YES, yes, yes, Frankie baby right there!" You let out the most pornographic scream. Frankie smiling at how fucked out you look in the mirror, eyes crossing, a smile, and tits threatening to spill over the top of your dress.
Frankie wraps your leg around his waist, forcing you to face him. He presses his hand down on your pelvis whilst fucking deeper into you. The white-hot waves crash through your veins, your juices splash on Frankie's button-up and slacks.
"You're so fucking hot," You slurred, letting your body go limp as Frankie chases his high. "You're so sexy, Frankie...only man for me-" You gasp for a breath as Frankie spills his seed into you, feeling his cock throb and spurt out a lot of pent-up cum. He looks down and takes in the view of your cum and his mix together leaking out around his still-hard cock and down your thighs and ass. He looks up at you, glistening in sweat and smelling of sex, the vanilla base in your perfume, and the way his cologne smells on you.
"I love you, Princesa." Frankie kisses your forehead gently as he removes his cock from you. This is the first time he ever used, Princesa. You smile and look at him with such love and happiness. Your eyes twinkled, giving Frankie a look into the galaxy. "I love you, Francisco"
#frankie morales#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales fluff#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x f!reader#pedro pascal#frankie morales angst
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Here's A Little Get-To-Know-You Tag Game!
Tagged by: @toxicrevolver 💚
Name(s): Rae
Pronouns: She/They
Star Sign: Cancer
# Of Siblings & Fun Facts About Them (if you have any): I have three younger siblings. All of our birth names (and our parents names) start with the letter D. I’m eleven years older than my youngest sibling.
# Of Pets: My house currently has two dogs and three cats (1 dog and 1 cat are mine) which is actually the least number of pets we’ve had in a very long time.
Fandoms: Too many! My biggest right now though are Kpop and Baldur’s Gate
Favorite Color: Any shade of blue-green
Favorite Song: Such a hard question omg. Hmm right now for kpop it’s probably Oh Mymy : 7s by TWS
Favorite Author: I don’t read enough to have a favorite author anymore 😭
Hobbies: Digital art, video games, playing piano/guitar/ukulele, singing
Favorite Fic Type: I’m a big sucker for hurt/comfort with a happy ending. Like things suck but everything ends up okay? Sign me up.
Favorite Holiday: Halloween
Do You Have Any Partner(s)?: Lmao no 🙃
Fun facts about you/anything extra you wanna share!
Hmmm, I’ve had two surgeries on my spine, I have freckles including some on my lips that I just noticed recently, seeing the full moon in the night sky once made me cry, my sense of taste and smell never came back fully after having covid so sweet things especially subtly sweet things are really hard for me to taste (I ate an orange today and all I could taste was that it was vaguely sour), and my Duolingo streak for Korean is 962 days!
Tagging (no pressure): @m00nbinbin @thehuns-bubble-tea
@ladytaetae @dejundary @puppychacco @sunminshine and anyone else that wants to do it!
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Distant: Mouthpiece x OC *Halloween Special* 🎃
Summary: The Jets and Sharks throw a Halloween dance, which attracts the attention of a girl who’s had her eye on Mouthpiece for some time. (Also I did look it up, the fanbase officially named Mouthpiece as Harvey Gonzales! I had no idea!)
“Uh, Grazi? A little help- ah!” The ladder swerves again and I can feel myself falling-!
“Gotcha!”
Strong arms reach out and catch me just before my head hits the ground, and I already know it’s Mouthpiece from how hard he’s laughing.
“Wow, Diana! That’s quite a fall! What’d ya do to make the ladder so mad?” His warm touch makes me shiver and before I can get too flushed he stands me up. “There! Right as rain, yeah?”
I swallow my feelings and smile. “Yup, alright here! Say you wouldn’t by chance be going to the dance-?”
“Hey, Mouthpiece!” Action scoots over and drags him away to the group-a Jets for some stupid prank, leaving me high and dry with no date.
Every. Single. Time. Every time I try to ask him out, Mouthpiece is always preoccupied! You’d think that by all the hints I’ve given that he’d wise up, but sadly that’s not been the case.
Just then Grazi and Velma walk up. “Took a nasty fall, huh Diana?”
I scowl. “Sure, you turn up just as the Jets show up. Where were you when I was about to get a concussion?”
She shrugs and sucks on a lollipop. “It’s not my problem you’re a klutz. Now go finish hanging the pumpkins.”
Normally I’d refuse and fight back, but I don’t mind pitching in for the Halloween event. It’s one of my favorite holidays, and it’ll be so rewarding when I show up tonight in my costume. It’s a vampiress dress that I sewed it myself, and found the poifect wig last week.
After retreating to the back-a the gym, I find the last of the plastic pumpkins and start placing them next to the concessions table. Seeing everyone chat and get excited for the dance makes me feel bittersweet. When it comes to friends I don’t involve myself with the drama of the West Side goils, and instead find friends in odda places. Mouthpiece, Baby John, Kid Blink and Skittery from ‘Hattan, and a few from Brooklyn. Call me a tomboy, but I just can never understand why goils is so interested in gossip. Their jibber-jabber is way more strange than the boys’ jibber-jabber. And tonight it’s sad to say that hardly any of my friends will be here- or at least the ones that will talk with me. Maybe I can hang with Baby John while Mouthpiece continues to ignore my proposals.
“Nearly finished?” The principal walks up behind me.
I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m very glad that the Jets have been behaving.”
“I agree, though this time of year always makes me antsy. They always seem to slip Halloween pranks under my nose and I can never find out how! Thanks again for helping out with the setup.”
As the principal walks away I hold back a chuckle. No doubt the Jets have partnered with the Sharks to do something even bigger this year. Last time they dumped a bucket of pumpkin guts all over the teachers. Lord knows what’ll happen tonight.
“Diana! Ready to go?”
It’s Baby John, followed by his goil Jackie. Of course every decent guy I know already has a date, leaving me to be the lonely wallflower tonight.
I force a smile. “Sure am, Johnny. You and Jackie all set for the bash tonight?”
Jackie, Velma’s little sis, grins and nudges John’s shoulder. “You bet we are! We’re wearing matching costumes! What are you going as?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say simply, then add a smirk. “You’ll have to wait and see. Now let’s go!”
After I’ve walked home and set my heavy backpack down, my mother’s already buzzing up to me.
“Diana, dear! Did you ask him?”
I bite my lip and busy myself by washing my hands. “Yes.”
“And?” My mother waits on-edge.
This is what I get for being too open with my parents.
“He never said anything. I’m going alone.”
My mother sighs and pulls me in for a hug. “Dear, you shouldn’t be going alone to social gatherings. At your age you should be going on dates! Is there anyone else you’d like to ask?”
My anger starts boiling and I push away with the hint of a scowl on my face. “No, all the odda boys are already taken or too stupid! Now can we please talk about something odda than my depressing social life?”
Before she can respond I dash outta the kitchen and rush upstairs, shutting my bedroom door and collapsing in my desk chair. Just relax. Just because he doesn’t feel the same doesn’t mean your life is over. Time to get my costume on.
Once I’ve zipped up my sleek black dress and clipped on my crimson cape, I all but wrap my honey-colored hair up in tape in order to fit on the wig. Black heels complete the look, and after a touch of goth makeup I head downstairs where I find my father waiting.
“Oh no! A vampire! Don’t bite me!” he teases as I walk over to grab my coat. “Remember pumpkin, you don’t need to have a date to have a good time. The fun is all in how you chose to spend your time, so go have a happy Halloween!”
At least his pep talk is better than mother’s.
I allow a small smile and give him a hug goodbye. “Thanks, dad. I’ll see you later.”
As I walk back to the gym I see it’s gotten much darker, almost sunset. My costume seems to give me some much-needed confidence and it helps even more when the people I pass keep giving me odd looks. All the perks of being something scary. When I get to the gym it’s super crowded with various costumes, but hardly any of them are like mine. No one decided to be scary this year? Sad.
“Whoa! And who are you, good-look’n?” I hear Action ask behind me.
I turn and find he’s dressed as a pirate, and is also standing with Riff, Bernardo, and Mouthpiece, who recognizes me instantly. His eyes look as if they’re about to pop out.
“Diana? That’s you? Geez, that’s quite a getup!”
“Like it?” I ask, just a little bit shy.
He nods repeatedly. “Yeah! You’s always so- so…”
“So goody-two-shoes?” Grazi walks up dressed as a flapper goil and smirks at my outfit. “Bit goth, don’t ya think? You going to a funeral?”
I let her snappy insults wash right over me and decide to walk away to the concession table where Tony and Maria are standing, both dressed in homemade candy corn costumes.
“Hola, Diana! Please join us!” Maria beckons me over.
“Luv the costume!” Tony praises.
I smile and shrug. “Thanks, that means a lot. At least you guys think so. I just escaped the drama queen herself.”
Maria’s face scrunches up. “Oh, no. You can hide over here with us. Forget about Grazi.”
Tony nods. “Trust me, Diana. Nearly every guy here’s given you at least a second glaze since you came in.”
I bite my lip and look away. “I just wish Mouthpiece would notice. But all he ever does is act like I'm just any odda person, even though we’s been friends since kindergarten.”
Tony starts to say something, but then gets interrupted by Riff. He and Maria go off to join the odda Sharks and Jets, leaving me once again to be alone.
I sigh and mudda to myself. “I wish Spot or Blink were here…”
“Well they might not be, but you get the next-best thing!” A voice says from behind.
My eyes light up and I turn around to be met in a big hug. “Racetrack Higgins, you son-of-a-gun! You crashed the party?”
“I couldn’t miss a chance to see my brodda now, could I? Besides, you guys have way more fun dances than we do!”
Seeing the Manhattan boy gives me new-found joy, but that still doesn’t hide my previous feelings.
“So what’s got ya down, Di? You’s all dolled up in this gorgeous outfit and you’s off in the corner look’n sadder than the dead.”
I huff and roll my eyes. “With how people are here I might as well be dead. All my friends got dates except me. That and your brodda’s been putting me on the back burner.”
Race gets a distant look in his eye, then smirks. “Well see, that’s the thing with us… When there’s one-”
“The odda ain’t far behind!” Mouthpiece sneaks up and tickles my sides.
“Wait- you- Mouthpiece stop it!” I cackle as I try to squirm away. “Did you know Race was coming?”
Mouthpiece playfully shoves his twin brodda and they both laugh. “Can’t split us up all the time, can they? I tried to find ya but you’s off hiding over here!”
Race sneaks me a strange look with a gleam in his eye. “I think I’ll meet up with you two later. Right now I’s gonna go scam some punch.”
He walks off, and almost instantly Mouthpiece’s body language changes to be more stiff. As if I’ve got a contagious disease. How did things change this much?
“So, um… I haven’t seen ya around much.” That’s because you haven’t noticed! “How’s it been?”
It’s been saddening to see my friend get distant from me.
“I’ve been… ok. I see you’ve become good chums with the Sharks.”
He laughs and looks over at where the odda boys are talking. “Yeah, we’ve got a great prank planned for tonight! Wait ‘till you see it!”
Normally I’d share his enthusiasm, but I still can’t understand how he thinks ignoring me and then chatting it up is all fine and dandy.
“Great. Gonna be a blast, I bet. Um, I gotta go. Have fun tonight, Harvey.”
His real name. Mouthpiece knows I never use his real name.
I turn and hurry away to lose him in the giant mob of students, all previous thoughts of excitement and Halloween all forgotten. Of all nights why did it have to be during my favorite holiday? Unfortunately my dark outfit stands out like a sore thumb and Mouthpiece spots me before I get to the back door.
“Diana, wait!” He scoots out right behind me. “You avoiding me?” He talks in a joking manner, as if it’s nothing.
How is this fair?! “But that’s- It’s not-! Ugh! I can’t believe you can’t- Never mind!” I keep walking away into the streets bustling with trick-or-treaters, but he still follows.
“Wait, what’s wrong? What can’t I understand-?”
I lose what’s left of my little self-control and shove him against a lamppost. “I’m in luv with you, you stupid Jet! I’ve tried and tried to show you but every time you act as if I’m just a friend and will always be just a friend!”
His face flashes 50 different expressions, ending with an open-mouth flabbergasted look. “But… you’s never said anything before.”
“Just because I’m quiet don’t mean I don’t have something to say. But how would you even know if I did say something? You’ve been more distant than I have! Now unless you’re gonna be my friend again then please leave! Maybe I can squeeze in some trick-or-treating to help save what’s left of tonight…”
Just then, strong hands grab my hips and I’m turned to face Mouthpiece’s bright blue eyes.
“Say you won’t kill me-” My breath hitches as he leans in and presses a soft kiss on my cheek. “I never thought I was good enough… never wanted to put you in danger. But I never wanted to seem cold or distant to ya. I’m sorry, Di.”
I- I don’t know what to say, what to do- He’s felt this way the whole time? “H- How could you put me in danger?” I ask in a shaky voice.
“Because-a the Jets. After what happened with Tony and Maria I thought that I’d never find a goil who’d put up with me, what I get caught up in.”
I set a steady look and bring a hand up to his face. “I’m not afraid to get dangerous, Harvey. You know me better than to think I’d shy away from danger. And since you’s on good terms with the Sharks now there’s been no more rumbles! I’ll luv you no matter how crazy your life is. I just hope I’m enough to keep you happy.”
Mouthpiece hugs me closer and buries his face in my wig. “God, Diana. Is that even a question? I luv you so much it’s been so hard not to say anything. Will ya still take me?”
My fingers run through his blonde hair and take a deep breath. “You’re never too dangerous for me, Harvey Gonzales. I’m finally glad to know you luv me back! I’ve missed you.”
Mouthpiece leans away slightly and gently removes my wig. “I wanna see you, your own hair, your own face- the face of the goil I’s luved my whole life. And I wanna kiss you again.”
So he does. Deep and passionate, but nothing too fast so it’s not uncomfortable. It’s everything I’ve waited for!
“D- Don’t you have a prank to do?” I try to say in-between kisses.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d rather stay here with you.”
When we break apart to breathe, in the dizzying bliss I put my head on his shoulder and nip at his neck.
Mouthpiece chuckles. “Uh-oh, I got bit by a vampiress. The nicest, hottest vampiress I could ever deserve.”
I let his childish joke slide and hug him impossibly closer, letting out a happy sigh. “Good to have you back, Harvey.”
#west side story#west side story imagine#west side story 2021#west side story mouthpiece#mouthpiece west side story#mouthpiece#riff west side story#bernardo west side story#maria west side story#tony west side story#anita west side story#west side story baby john#spot colon#kid blink#racetrack newsies#racetrack higgins#newsies#newsies 1992#west side story x reader#halloween costumes#halloween#trick or treat#action west side story
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Hello!! 1, 4, 10, 18, and 22 for the End of the Year ask game please 😊
ONE Song of the Year: My Spotify Wrapped claims for me it was the Placebo cover of Running Up That Hill, which is admittedly on almost every single one of my playlists, but I think it was actually Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron, because I listened to it a billion times while writing my NaNo project.
FOUR Movie of the Year: The Boy and the Heron, both because it was great and also it was the only good theater experience I had all year that wasn't a rerelease like Titanic and The Lion King lol, people at our home theater are very poorly behaved. ;;
TEN Something that Made You Cry This Year: LOL WELL I lost my job a couple weeks ago and that has been some VERY MIXED EMOTIONS including a lot of hysterical crying. It was an extremely toxic work place I was trying to get out of anyway (museum board full of old white men who hated me, boss is/was an alcoholic mean girl - no exaggeration, has driven home drunk from work lunches with her kid in the car and been blackout throwing up in her office after work events - who had a toady work bff who also hated me, no health insurance, making $26/hr despite having an MA and living somewhere where rents start at $2,000 a month) but my boss basically reamed me out right before Thanksgiving telling me I was the worst person ever, had a bunch of provably false claims about how bad an employee I was (never meeting deadlines, making other people do my work for me, never attending events or suggesting ideas for programs, all bullshit I had ample evidence to refute) and told me I could either quit now and be paid through February or be on like mega probation indefinitely, so I came back from the holiday like alright I quit, they're like cool actually this is a budgetary thing and not at all personal, we're SO SORRY this didn't work out also we can only afford to pay you through mid January, so now I'm unemployed applying to a million jobs and scared about money but also I'm free??? So there's been a lot of on and off weeping/grieving and it's kinda ruined the holidays for me lol. But also hopefully it'll pivot to a much better paying and stable job somewhere closer to home, so fingers crossed.
Don't get into the museum field, folks, it sucks here.
EIGHTEEN A Memorable Meal This Year: For Valentine's Day, @heystovepipeboys and I made a bunch of recipes from Last Dinner on the Titanic, which was SUPER FUN. I love historic cooking/baking and have had the cookbook forever, but had never made anything from it before and everything was INCREDIBLE. We made cream of barley soup, chicken Lyonnaise, chateau potatoes and asparagus, and then got eclairs from a bakery near us and the Harney & Sons Titanic tea blend, which is supposed to be similar to the special blend they served on the ship. We listened to period music the whole time we cooked and then we went to see Titanic in theaters for its anniversary rerelease.
TWENTY TWO Favorite Place You Visited This Year: hmmm very tough call. My parents very generously took the fam on a Disney cruise to Alaska this summer which was a childhood dream of mine, and wifey and I had an awesome trip to Old Sturbridge Village in MA for their Halloween event, which was probably the best Halloween themed thing I've ever done. They set up the museum with a bunch of themed performances by a bunch of traveling circus performers who are Definitely Not Vampires and everything was really spooky and fun. Would super recommend if anyone is looking for fun Halloween things to do in New England next year.
Thank you for the ask!! Hope you are enjoying a relaxing end to this weird year.
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Hey its hoodie anon
If you don't mind writing some angst-comfort stuff, would you mind writing for some of your guys helping their s/on out during a difficult mental health time?
October used to be my favorite month, it has my favorite holiday, but it's been really hard for me for the past couple of years for ✨reasons✨. So if you'd be willing to write for this, I would deeply, deeply appreciate it.
[I'll never pry, but I hope you're able to enjoy October again, especially Halloween. These types of asks are almost painful for me to do, comfort fluff is not my thing at all, I suck at it.]
Ugh, honestly anon, these assholes can barely keep themselves together, you expect them to be able to help you through mental health lapses? Goodness, you couldn't have chosen a worst possible bunch.
Trying to cheer you up when you're having a bad time
Breg just doesn't know what to do and he's upset at himself for not really having an answer. Sometimes he's fucked up about things he went through, and his answer to that is just to spend time with you. So, maybe, you just need his company? A cuddle? Do you want to go outside? Do something? You might as well tell him, he's going to be in distress the entire time.
Fasma and shitty mental health go hand in hand together. He's not going to ask questions and he won't force you to talk. He's handing you a bottle and sitting next to you. Maybe even holding your hand. You'll get over it, you have no choice. No one does.
Gallon is also one to offer drinks, but unlike Fasma, the slime is an avid chatter. He will definitely pry. Come on, he can keep a secret, talk to him. Is there something he can get you for you to stop being such a downer? Aw, cheer up now! To say he lacks empathy is an understatement.
Morell's dragging you to a chair until you tell him what's wrong. And don't play stupid, he doesn't have all day. Out with it. You're not leaving without a decent meal either. Hey, you want to go hunting with him later? Having something to concentrate on might do you some good. He can teach you to make basic traps.
Patches hesitates. He'll try to start a talk, but he's not good at that, so if you express discomfort he's more likely to just give you something interesting to look at. Wanna see this fucked up plant The Clergy made yesterday? He can call one of the bobbles to entertain you if you want. He's likely to show up later as his nighttime self and take you on a wildride, doing stupid things for the sake of it. A night of adrenaline is bound to get your mood up.
Vinnel, just like with most sorrows in his life, is all about comedy and violence. So that's what he's going to offer you- Tricks, jokes, silly faces, games, and front row seats to his shows. Hey, you ever seen a shark woman tear someone's legs off? Okay wait, what if he lets you throw the knife during the spinning wheel segment? You might not get the head, but that just means you can try again! He doesn't take serious conversations all that well, so he's kind of quiet and awkward, but he mulls on it later.
Santi knows what it's like to doubt yourself, whether that stems from internal or external factors is irrelevant. You're having a day off with him to do things you like and enjoy the finer things in life. You're hot stuff and you should feel like it, so come on now, get your things ready, turn your notifications off, you're heading out. The incubus won't press you into conversation, but he's ready to hear you and he's sensible enough to comfort you.
Grimbly is an impulsive, greedy little monster. When he's down, he usually gets two tubs of ice cream, eats until he's sick and orders 300 items online which Santi will clearly feel the sting of in his wallet. He's not saying you should do the same, but being a mall rat with him will probably cheer you up, right mommy/daddy?
Mervin, who is as sensible as a cinder block, will call you a sniveling sod of a person. He picks you up like a sac of potatoes and takes you to a nice restaurant and then you're going to see a movie with him. Ugh, smile already, you look like shit when you frown. You should tell him what has you like that, it's some loser, isn't it? Honestly, you're such a bleeding heart.
Obie gifts you his coping mechanisms- Good food and good music. And shitty video games, but y'know, mainly the first two. You don't have to talk, you don't even have to knock honestly, just let yourself in and he'll lay on you like a lazy blanket that offers you snacks every now and then. He might push you to drone on about something that he knows you like talking about, anything to distract you.
Ludwig is taking you to one of those rooms you can rent, where the whole goal is to fuck shit up and break everything (look it up, it exists). Now, he's not telling you to kill anything, but blowing off steam violently can still help you out. If that doesn't work, then he'll just invite you to take a nap with him and have oddly deep conversations about life. What to live for, how to be, things of that sort.
Nebul is just straight up going to ask to eat those feelings off you. Or at least a part of it. You need to grow emotionally, and he can help you through that journey, but he can also alleviate you immediately if he finds those sentiments to be extremely harmful to you. In the end, he's going to give you a small chemical imbalance where you're entirely high, when you crash from it, the wraith will already have a plan for how to process those emotions.
Belo is so fucking lost. He doesn't know what to do unless he's given direct orders most of the time. So just tell him??? What do you want him to do? Anything? Do you want worship? Meals? Do you want him to lead you somewhere calm? Please just say something, he's so lost and he can clearly tell you're upset. I think he'd just mush your face in his fluffed up chest and stay there forever if you don't give him any command.
Sybastian will play with you. It starts with odd nudges and bonks, then licks. He'll pick you up and toss you in the air like a child, maybe even try to get you to run so he can chase you around and roughouse for a bit. That might make you feel better. Or not. If you lash out, ultimately he offers you distance or just holds you. Conversations are not his strong suit, but the mimic can listen.
Fank-e is placing way too many stickers on you. And bracelets. And wow, look at this cute shirt he found online. He's ordering stuff on mass without you even knowing it. He's asking if you want to make bead jewelry with him or go to a concert somewhere. If you dump heavy topics onto the robot, he will fumble and offer very short responses, ultimately still trying to steer you towards activities he deems fun and productive.
Krulu's mental health is affected by yours, so chances are that he's already picking at what's making you sullen before you even bring it up. More often than not, he thinks the matter is trivial, but he's forcing you to talk to him about it anyway. With a deadpan and a surprising amount of cool rationale, he's going to deconstruct the way you think about whatever's making you upset and reassure you that said sadness is most likely pointless when faced with your role. There are few things you should care about now that you're by his side, and as such, some emotions have to be shed when dealing with irrelevant elements.
#Bregory#Fasma oc#Vinnel oc#Gallon oc#Morell oc#Patches oc#Nebul oc#Santi oc#Grimbly oc#Mervin oc#Obie oc#Ludwig oc#Sybastian oc#Fank-e oc#Belo oc#Krulu oc
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2, 7, 21, 25 !!
2. picture of my handwriting:
7. what scares me the most and why: well i am scared of a lot of things…..i think one of the things i’m most afraid of is that while i’m sleeping ill go into cardiac arrest and die. there’s a history of that happening in my family lmao and i get recurrent heart palpitations….my cardiological tests have always been fine but i’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. and recently i’ve had some compounding symptoms that have me convinced it’s now lmao….well i have a cardiologist appt next week so we’ll see!!!
21. are you a spiritual person: i consider myself a spiritual person….i still haven’t rlly sorted out what’s going on with me religion-wise after the shitshow of ten years of catholic school but i do still believe in Something. i’m not quite sure what it is or how to describe it but it is important to me you know ?
25. favorite season and why: this is hard for me because i’m always torn between summer and winter….in terms of what’s usually going on in my life i feel like summer is usually better BUT i’m so so heat intolerant and it’s so fucking hot here….winter is the only time the weather is somewhat tolerable for me and i love getting to dress in layers. and while i recognize many valid critiques of christmas etc i do really enjoy the holiday season. but also fall has halloween….but i never get to enjoy halloween to its potential because of school. i think basically i’m a grass is always greener guy who views every season as beautiful and rife with potential except for when i’m living it and then i’m like well my life sucks rn. whoops!
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hi this is a lot im sorry. i love to say words and dump shit that upsets me with no real correlation. my bad /gen (genuine) (idk if you know tone indicators im sorry ough)
you dont really Have to cook up a proper response to this i just need to put it somewhere where i wont immediately get piles of advice that i cant use. i know its well-meaning but ultimately the whole situation is ou of anyones control
(also putting this 🎪 here so i can try to find it later)
im stuck in a sisyphean nightmare of a weekly cycle: i have a good day -> my mood skyrockets -> i have a bad day -> my mood plummets -> rinse and repeat. at this point i think it might be a mental condition bc something doesnt even really have to Ruin My Day, i just have to face a minor inconvenience and then suddenly im all doom-and-gloom depression for 3-5 business days before springing back up as if nothing ever happened to do it all again. my mom says i might have bpd or bipolar disorder (i always get the two confused) because she has it and we just havent seen anyone about it, mostly because we dont have the money to see any doctors most of the time. i also kinda dont wanna have either of them? not in like an asshole way but in a these-people-face-stigma-that-i-dont-know-if-i-can-emotionally-handle way. in a im already queer and fat and poor and disabled in multipled ways and overall unsavory to neurotypicals/cishets/Default Settings way. yknow
todays inciting incident was a shitty shitty halloween carnival that didnt even have the thing i was excited for, didnt have any food, had lines that were miles long (hyperbole), was too hot, and i only got 8 shitty halloween things from -- half of which were lollipops, with half of those just being the same 2 flavors but Again. we stayed for 2 hours before my mom decided she didnt wanna be out of the house anymore as usual. i cant be too mad at her because shes mentally ill in the direction of "i dont want to go anywhere because my anxiety will spike" but unfortunately im mentally ill in the direction of "if i cannot leave the house to Do Things at my own pace at least once a week i will fall into a deep depression" so we clash pretty bad most of the time. this was also following multiple minor inconveniences mind you. and was also trailed by multiple minor inconveniences. it just has not gone well. this halloween is just shaping up to suck bc i was supposed to have a whole party but we had money issues so it had to be cut down to just 2 people for a sleepover, then one of them went out to see his grandma in another state and the other is apparently in the fucking hospital right now??? at least according to his posts. and i cant blame them for these either! schedules conflict and sometimes you go to the Fuckig Hosital. its out of anyones control but it still feels like shit. so its looking like my only shot at having any fun this halloween is the trunk-or-treat at my school and idk if im even allowed to go bc i had to drop out for mental health reasons and they told me i wasnt allowed on school grounds anymore. idk if that applies here. which btw. way to make a depressed kid feel worse. you can NEVER come to this high school again or we'll ARREST YOU. fuckin bullshit. BUT thats off topic the synopsis is that this halloween sucks so far and i dont really expect it to get better which extra sucks bc im turning 18 next year and i dont wanna let this be the last hurrah for my number one favorite holiday. i cant host fucking parties for my friends after then. im gonna be busy trying to fuck off to the other end of the country. i wont have TIME for it. idk. it sucks. this sucks. fuck art and fuck you /ref (reference) /nbh (nobody here)
Ik you don't want advice for this so I'll just put it on the blog.
And idk if you want it but here's a tea
☕
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💘🎮 🔏🎄😍🎶💖
💘 — what and/or who do you consider near and dear to you?
My family. My friends. The people who are always there for me and I know accept me as I am. But truthfully? The nearest and dearest person to my heart is my daughter. I love her with all that I am and cannot wait to watch her continue to grow. I love my family, I love my husband, I love my friends— but there is no one more important to me than that little girl. Even if I looked away for two seconds and she somehow ended up under a box that she had been standing against. So I don’t know, she’s weird but I love her.
🎮 — favorite video game(s)?
R.esident Evil - all of them. Actually fight me about it. And then also all the D.ragon Age games. Also F.FXV destroyed my entire heart and soul. So that too.
🔏 — want any (more) tattoos?
Yes! I want Handsome Jack’s wrist tattoo on my own wrist! I also am already planning on a tattoo with one of my oldest RP friends. It has nothing to do with what we used to write but everything to do with our personality. Now we haven’t decided a don’t, but— we’re getting “I think Coolsville sucks.” on us somewhere. 👁️👄👁️
🎄 — favorite holiday(s)?
Halloween and Christmas!!
😍 — celebrity crush(es)?
I really do just hate you. I swear to God— okay y’all are about to see a fucked up trend here. J.oe Anderson, J.oseph Quinn, J.oey Richter, and then my non Joe… T.imothy Granaderos.
🎶 — favorite song at the moment?
I answered this with a long time fave, but another fave is Good Time Girl - Sofi Tukker
💖 — what was one of the greatest/happiest moments you’ve had in the rpc?
Finding you. I wouldn’t have been able to survive a lot of the shit I have it it wasn’t for you. I’m proud and happy over a lot of things from friends over the years and current, but literally becoming you’re friend has been something I’ll always be the happiest about.
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🍊💙
🍊 : my favorite season is fall!!! sooo sad it’s almost over. it has my favorite holidays (halloween and thanksgiving) and my favorite weather (COLD!!!) but i love winter too so it’s okay! i just hate summer but i live where summers are suuuuper hot and humid so it sucks lol
💙: i have two siblings and we’re all close in age! an older brother (18 months older) who lives with his gf in the northern part told our state and a younger brother (2 years younger) who like me lives at home with our parents! we r autism besties
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We just left Jess's Halloween party! It was so fun and I loved hanging out with her and meeting some of her coworkers. It was really nice to put faces to names.
Today was really nice. Literally the only thing that went poorly was it was stupidly hot for October 28th. It was around 85 degrees at one point?! Horrible. Thankfully most of today was still good.
I went to sleep way to late. I ended up staying up until 2 reading. Oops. But I slept alright once I did go to sleep.
Waking up sucked though and I was very very miserable. I was unsure about our costumes. I was uncomfortable. My throat didn't hurt as much but I wasn't doing well. I wanted to go back to bed. But I couldn't. I didn't feel like I could miss the market. So even though I was wildly unhappy I felt like I had to hold it together.
I know I can't expect James to fix everything all of the time but it doesn't stop me from wanting that. And so after I was dressed and had my bag and we were in the car we sat in silence for a while. Until finally I told them I needed them to talk through everything. And honestly it helped a lot
They said they were excited to be pretty in their dress. And everyone is going to love our costume and if we wanted to swap later we could. They then stopped for us to get hash browns and a soda and it helped. I felt not amazing for a while but I didn't feel like the world was falling apart.
And really the market was such a good time. Not only was it beautiful out, we had the children's choir so there was a ton of people there. And Callie was there. And also Meril was there!! She set her table up next to me and she had a button maker so we were hanging a blast.
I would slowly feel better. Working on my knitting was good. I would run out of my scrap yarn by the end of the day. It was nice to have something to do with my hands. Talking to my friends helped. James would help me set up and sat with me for a few minutes until it was time for them to start their day. Ann was also fun to talk to today. Things got better.
I made a good amount of sales today. I actually sat down and went through my book for the market and I have already surpassed my sales form last year! I'm pretty proud of myself. And there are still 3 markers left, and then I have the holiday one. I'm pretty thrilled.
I would have some really nice chats. Some returning customers. Auni bought her baby one of my bears and you should have seen him when she said it was for him. Huge smile, hugs the bear, and flops his little baby head on her chest to say thank you. Auni said that while they have a lot of toys, they are almost all her older sons, and this bear is the first tou he has that it only his. That's amazing. I'm so glad I could be a part of that.
Meril was manning the table to talk about the new exhibit so she had the button maker out and she loves making buttons. We had some trouble getting it going and I couldn't get it to work. But Auni came and fixed it. And then we were rolling.
Meril let me use some small petals to and it worked so well. She would not let me make a pin out of a lantern fly. Cruel. She did eventually relent and let me do the wing of a moth. Redeemed and forgiven.
Stanley loved the button maker so much and went inside to print his favorite picture and then had Meril write his name and it was so cute. He was so excited.
I found a jumping spider on my table. He kept being all over me and Meril's tablecloths even though I kept moving him. He was very cute but I didn't want him on me and also didn't want him to be squished. I moved him away best I could.
The music today was contentious. The choir practiced for a while and that was a lot of warring sounds. Plus the musician that was playing at the market itself. It was just a lot. But once the actual performance started it was nice.
And once the performance was done it was much quieter. Even with the sort of screechy music from the jazz musician. It was still a beautiful day. James came outside and got me a quesadilla. Best husband.
Right before 1 I packed up. No one else was so I felt goofy but I also very much wanted to go home so no time to waste. I cleaned out the back of the car and went inside to say goodbye to James. And then home.
When I got back home it was already warming up and I was pretty uncomfy. But a fan helped
I cleaned up and felt alright. Put stuff away and went to lay down. I would stop and make sure all our costume stuff was together. And then I laid down.
I watched videos for a while. Sweetp scared the hell out of me by putting a moth on me??? Terrible. But I was able to fall asleep.
I woke up at 4 and started getting ready. I wasn't having fun, I was to hot and dehydrated. But as I was sitting at my vanity I remembered we were supposed to bring soda for Jess's party. So I put on my sandals and walked to the store.
The walk was incredibly hot but it helped honestly. I got home after getting the soda and drank a bunch of water before making a lemonade and sitting on the couch. To wait for James to get home.
When James got back I let Callie know so she could head to us when she was ready. James took a few minutes to cool down and change their shirt. I had already put all of the stuff we needed to the side. So once Callie was heading to us we got Sweetp and the aquatics fed and went to meet her downstairs.
We had an hour and a half drive. Which was fine. We had nice talks about highschool and all going to very different systems. From a friend's school to my nonsense evangelical to James fancy public science highschool. It was very interesting.
And the moon was crazy. As the sun set and the moon rose in front of us it was absolutely giant and red. There is a lunar eclipse tonight and it was just so cool to see the moon looks so huge.
I finished my ball of yarn in the car when we were about twenty minutes away from Jess's. But then we were basically there.
I was excited for James and Callie to see Jess's adorable house. And honestly it's only gotten better since the last time I was there
She has so much more furniture!! And her decorations were super cute. But this was mostly about the food.
She made 6 drips. She made two kinds of sourdough. She had chips and veggies and candy and drinks. Deviled eggs where she made the mayo too?!? It was awesome. I loved showing her the silly shrimp we made out of the Chex rice crispies. She got shrimped. The bit of yelling that at each other continues. And honestly it tasted pretty good.
We were the first ones there and we all are and talked and I was so happy to be there. I was feeling a lot better.
And the her work friends started coming. It was so nice to meet them. And then Dante and Allie were there too! I was a chill hang out party but that was perfect. I loved seeing people is costume and being silly positing up like an f-boy with James and being really silly. I had a little to much caffeine and was talking very fast for a while. I showed Jess's friend Rex my tree PowerPoint and talked about how there are just to many goddamn trees. But it was fun talking about my programs and I got to show off my mushroom pictures. I was having a great time.
I sat on the ground and talked to Allie about jewelry for a while. And just bopped the top of Jess's head a bunch. I got to tell stories which I always enjoy. And I got to see James shining and talking and smiling big and that made me really happy.
We were there until right around 10. Jess made Dante and James decaf coffee while I used her fridge magnets to spell "#jesse superiority". And then there was hugs all over and it was time to go.
The gps thinks well me home in an hour and 15 minutes. Amazing. We are all quietly listening to a podcast nice. I am very much ready to sleep.
We should be home around 1130. And I hope to get a shower and go to sleep quickly. I would like to wake up at 9 tomorrow and clean a bit. Then I would like to do some art and download a book. And then I'll have my awah class. I hope it's a fun couple hours.
I really hope I can feel better tomorrow. I hope you all sleep well and tomorrow is beautiful. I love you all. Goodnight!
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💖and 🎃 for the ask game!!!
What made you start writing: so, this is a bit of a story in of itself. I used to hate writing. Before 8th grade I really liked reading but writing was boring as all get out. It took too long, I wasn't good at it, and I think I just saw it as something you did for essays or writing biography type short stories. Hated those, bleh.
My 8th grade honors english teacher had us all write a short story where all we had to do was follow a narrative structure. It didn’t have to be a biography like every other similar assignment. I started writing another biography type thing but hated it so I wrote a sorta fantasy thing about a vampire raised by vampire hunters. It sucked but goddamn I was hooked.
I think the freedom of that assignment, and not being able to compare it to classmates (reading it aloud after writing sessions) that made it click. I was practically an addict, always writing in notebooks during class time and on computers during free time at school and at home. All my writing sucked and I knew it, but I couldn't stoo. That teacher also reviewed my writing for the rest of the time I was at that school, after hours so she gave up her own free time for it. I'll never stop being grateful since it kinda gave me a purpose.
Do u write and holiday inspired fics, if so, which are your favorites: I've only written one, Happy New Years. Guess that one has to be my fav, lol. Might try a Halloween onr eventually.
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ok i'm sorry but why is everyone so excited about october/halloween/fall like i mean i like fall just as much as the next incoherent and/or deranged poster on this site but like. it's not that special. it's just nice weather. also, like, what the hell do you even do on halloween? trick or treating is usually reserved for children, and even then, it's boring as all hell. i mean, parties i guess?? but you could have a costume party at any time of the year. scary things are scary so. no. and like, october. really? of all months to obsess over you choose this one? granted, it does come just in time to provide reprieve from september (thank god i slept through that whole month) but there are so many better months. november is the epitome of cold fall weather, december is christmas season (so much better than halloween season fight me you spooky ass bitches and/or bastards). january sucks but it has a nice name. february is nicer weather, but still kinda sucks (nice name again though). my birthday is in march so fuck you. april sucks but again, nice name. very blue month. may sucks. completely and entirely may just isn't good. bad number, bad color, mediocre name. june is kind of nice but i hate the summer so it spells the beginning of the end. july can return to the pits of hell that it drags onto the earth once a year. august takes the cake for worst name, and second worst weather. september. just. wake me up when it ends, okay? but at least it has my favorite Not Really A Holiday. october is just. there. boring name, interesting color, kind of good number.
#october#don't like it#fight me#you know what#i crave discourse#halloween#fall#autumn#you dastardly fiends will be felled at my hands like a drake to my sword
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