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writing-with-gremworm · 6 months

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Envelopment of the Hydro Dragon

NOTES:

Yandere Neuvillette

Very very brief mention of the second Yandere character

Mild fluff

Memory interjections/flashbacks

"Hello my love, did you sleep well?" Neuvillette whispers gently, brushing your hair aside as he smiles down at you. A warm smile crosses your lips and you giggle. This warmth was comfortable. Safe. You felt loved and even forgot how you got here.

Truthfully, you were running from something. But the warm embrace of a water dragon filled your mind with calm. Some say that the water remembers emotions. In a sense, it may be able to mirror those emotions too. Perhaps that is why Neuvillette fell for you.

"Good morning Neuvie." You smile, leaning into his hand as his fingers play with your hair.

You hoped that serenity would last forever. So when you were put on trial in front of all of Fontaine, you felt like everything was falling apart. Neuvillette's gentle smile was replaced by a calm and cool neutral expression as he sat in the judge's seat. Your bag was taken from you to be searched and you had no defendant on your side.

"Love, are you alright? You seem lost in thought." Neuvillette asks, looking into your eyes with his cool pearlescent ones. His gaze is gentle, it's as if he can tell you're worrying, though he did not directly state this.

"Yes, I'm okay. I'm just thinking about something from the past that wasn't the most pleasant, but it's okay now." In truth, it was something that wasn't so easy to brush aside. In the past, you'd had many moments where you were betrayed by someone you loved. This was one of the reasons you felt like you couldn't say as much to Neuvillette. You were afraid he would see what was wrong with you and he too would push you away as if you were nothing.

"Alright, if you don't wish to discuss the matter I won't make you. Hm, ah, why don't I obtain some macarons, you do seem to like them quite a bit." Neuvillette suggests. You flush, realizing he'd caught on to your habit of snacking when something stressed you out.

"T-That-! Alright. Thank you." You smile softly.

"We stand here today for the trial of (Y/N) (L/N). They have been accused of vision theft and illegal information dealings." Neuvillette states coldly, turning to face the prosecutor, "You may elaborate on the event in question."

"Of course. Ahem. I was surprised to hear of such flagrant crimes in a time as dire as this, though I was presented with irrefutable proof. Three nights ago four different reports came in discussing Mx. (L/N) entering an illegal information guild. Further, one of the key witnesses, Cicely Fauxbear, heard the conversation Mx. (L/N) and the cloaked figures had.

"Cicely Fauxbear, come to the stand."

"Ah, yes. I was shocked. Mx. (L/N) had been so close to Mr. Neuvillette, so I was assured of their character. I had intended to ask for some advice, but I instead overheard them telling cloaked figures 'I've mapped out the schedules of Neuvillette, our archon, and the other officials you requested to know of' But not only that, they started talking of Fontaine as-as Oh dear, it's to shocking to say- They said that Fontaine would soon fall according to plan." Cicely sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't met with any shady figures, nor had you given scheduling information to anyone. You weren't sure where these accusations came from, but something felt off about this.

"Ms. Fauxbear, where was the location of this incident?" Neuvillette asks.

"I-It was simply a worn down Café, it didn't seem to have many patrons, so it was hardly notable." Cicely fidgets, brushing her hair aside as she looks down apologetically.

"I see. Mx. (L/N), as you are your defendant, what do you say to this?"

"This was stated to be a few days ago, as such it could not have been me. Forgive me for being somewhat crass, but I have not left your abode for anything but the shopping trip for essentials and an excursion to get the package Wriothesley sent me to give to you. However, there is no way to confirm this since no one went with me." You admit sincerely, biting your tongue since you realize you'd been too honest and left an opening for the opposing side to use against you.

"Your honor, that is clearly an excuse! They're trying to use personal feelings to sway this accusation!"

"Hm? You want me to grab a package? Of course, it'll give me a chance to explore a little too! You said the package was from Rizzley?" You ask, looking at Neuvillette. He smiles and chuckles softly.

"It's pronounced rise-lee, though I suppose Rizzley is close enough. He'd be miffed by such a nickname though. Ah, it is spelled a little strangely. Here, allow me to write his name down for you." Neuvillette hands you a small slip of paper with 'Wriothesley' written neatly on it.

It takes a bit before you locate the post office, but you manage to acquire the package Neuvie was talking about without much hassle since he'd mentioned he might get someone to pick it up for him beforehand.

"Hm, the box smells kind of floral, I wonder what's inside." You ponder, looking at the box before shaking your head and heading back. It hadn't been too long since you went out, but during that time Neuvillette must have become rather busy since he wasn't home. You leave the box on the counter and decide to try and bake something for Neuvie since he always buys you Fontaine specialty sweets.

"I can assure you that my personal feelings will not sway my judgment in this matter. The role of the judge is something I do not take lightly Ms. Fauxbear." Neuvillette assures Cicely, "Mx. (L/N), you state you did not go to a café, but on one of the days that fell within the expected timeframe you presented me with sweets, can you elaborate on this point?"

"Yes, of course, your honor." You smile sadly, "Those were sweets I baked personally, they're not the sort of delicacies you can find in Fontaine, they're much less refined and difficult to replicate with Fontaine ingredients alone. I can present evidence of this simply by baking them again." You state confidently.

"Understood. The day you baked sweets you say you acquired a package for me, what else did you do while you were in town?"

"I walked around and took in the architecture. The buildings here in Fontaine vary from those in Mondstadt, so I was inclined to observe them." You state simply.

"Your honor. I have something to say." Someone from the audience says, standing up.

"It is against protocol to include someone without good reason. What reason do you have to interrupt court proceedings?"

"I have collected statements noting (Y/N)'s whereabouts during the past three days, most notably statements from all cafés and post offices around Fontaine listed on the first page. I would like to submit this document for review." Neuvillette furrows his brow but quickly adjusts his expression.

"Understood, but if this proves to be falsified you will be tried in this court as well," Neuvillette states, motioning for the stranger to hand over the documents mentioned before.

"When I look up at the stars I remember the night we met. Do you think about it too?" You ask softly, a bit drowsy.

"Hahaha, yes, it was certainly a unique encounter. One does not often fall from the sky into my arms you see. Perhaps it was foreshadowing. It was certainly a dramatic introduction to the most lovely spring I have ever had the chance to touch." Neuvillette smiles, enjoying the soft flush that coats your cheeks.

"It was like a fairytale, aside from the fact it was because of a glider malfunction I mean." You state, clearing your throat and hiding a grin behind your fist.

"We will begin the proceedings again tomorrow once this evidence and the baking skills touted by Mx. (L/N) have been confirmed," Neuvillette states. The gavel slams down, announcing an intermission in the court proceedings. A few guards accompany you to a kitchen and permit you to bake the dessert for Neuvillette. Once it is complete Neuvillette is gathered and he confirms that the treat tastes the same as the ones he had previously.

The document was more time-consuming to check, but by the next Morning they managed to confirm the validity of the statement. The trial continues and it is decided that you did not trade away information. A separate trial begins regarding the vision theft. A stolen vision was found in your bag.

You looked surprised. As you should, you had never had such a thing, nor did you place one haphazardly in your bag. You had no idea how something like that would have ended up in your bag. Further, it was a Fontaine vision, which gave the claim that you'd stolen it more validity. You were at a loss for words, how could you combat this? Your bag had always been at home, in Neuvillette's home, it should have been safe.

"Your bag is always full, do you move often?" Neuvillette asks before taking a sip of tea. His nose wrinkles a bit, Wriothesley had sent a rather unpleasant floral tea this time, but at least you seemed to like it.

"Ah, I suppose. I guess I just haven't found somewhere to stay completely. I do best when I can travel. So I don't stay in one place too often." You state. Though, that was only partially true. You did do better when you traveled, but less because of an inherent ability to do better in new environments, and more because you were always safe for the first few months in a new place.

It isn't something you discuss often, but it's difficult to explain why you're being chased by new people because they always give you this look. Some even think you're lying.

"I see, well, I hope you find your stay here pleasant. I'll have a cup of tea ready when you return." Neuvillette smiles gently. That was the one time someone had expressed their desire for you to visit again. Of course, it was the first time you'd gained a friend this quickly.

Maybe it wasn't that surprising that such a friendship quickly became more. His lips were soft, they made you forget your worries with every gentle motion. His warmth seeped into your flesh and flushed your skin.

"If there is nothing more to say, then it is time for your judgment. I find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of vision theft." Neuvillette slams the gavel down and the machine whirs as it weighs your judgement. Despite knowing the truth, the machine lies and blames you. You can almost hear its laughter, but you know it chose to lie. For once in a great while, it lied and only you and two others knew this.

"If I never came back, would you be sad?" You ask, looking up at the ceiling as exhaustion sets in. It was drawing too close to the time 'he' usually found you. It was time to run away again.

"Yes. I would be sad. Would you not feel the same if I suddenly vanished?" Neuvillette asks, looking at you with a sorrow in his gaze that feels unfamiliar.

"Yes, I would be sad. But I guess I would expect it. That's sort of been the default, I find I'm alone more often than not." You smile sadly, leaning close to him and closing your eyes.

"I would never leave you by choice. If I could promise you safety, would you stay beside me?" Neuvie inquires, his voice thoughtful and warm.

"Hm, that would be nice. I ... like the idea of that." You smile a bit, not realizing that Neuvillette had a strange smile on his face since your eyes were closed.

"Then I promise, as long as you are my lover, you will always find safety in my arms." He kisses your forehead, holding you closely and running his fingers through your hair.

You open your eyes and realize you're not being taken to a prison, nor are the guards from earlier the ones beside you, they feel distinctly different. They feel familiar.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask carefully. They do not respond, they simply continue to escort you to an unfamiliar place. It takes you a moment to process why they feel familiar. It was because they felt like hydro Eidolons, they took the form of people they were not. You look a bit surprised but ultimately realize this is your chance to escape.

Hydro Eidolons had a predictable pattern when they fought, so it would be easy enough to weave past and make a run for it now that you'd been led to an isolated place near the waters. However, being in this place also meant it was possible for whoever orchestrated this to catch you, so you had to be on guard.

Weaving through the attacks of those who harbor hydro-elemental energy is much like dancing. It matches the theatrics of the court and noble life in Fontaine, so it seems fitting that this escape was like a musical. Though many of the musicals you had seen had been tragedies, hopefully, this would not also become one.

As you sway and bob, swirling through the ribbons of water splashing around you, you dive into the crashing ocean waves and dive into the water. As you were not a vision holder, you did not have the luxury of breathing underwater for long periods of time, but you had plenty of experience with swimming to escape places until you found a wave rider you could take.

As you plunge into the water your vision is covered with darkness as something wraps you up, perhaps expecting this escape. You almost gasp, but manage to hold your breath. You feel yourself getting pulled deeper into the waters and your throat aches, begging for air. You gasp and choke as water fills your mouth and lungs and darkness consumes your vision.

Bubbles float to the surface, caught on the seafoam of faded expectations. They showcase moments once filled with laughter.

"Wow, you have so many stories." You remember this. Neuvillette had just finished telling you about a musical he liked. Looking back at it now stings a little, did he betray you? It couldn't be. He was a judge, and he had to be impartial. But surely he knew you weren't guilty.

"You ... want to braid my hair? Well, as long as you don't mind teaching the Melusines to braid it, as I'm sure they'll ask, then you may." Neuvillette seemed so happy then. The small moments always seemed to be the times he had the gentlest smile. You wonder if you're dying and if that is why you remember these things now.

"(Y/N), I promise I'll keep you safe. You just have to trust me." That wasn't just Neuvillette's voice, that was someone else too, the man you were running away from. His crimson hair flooded your vision like the blood of the Fatui debt collector who had gotten just a little too close to you.

Something twists in your gut. You trusted Neuvillette, though, of course, you had never told him about Diluc. So why did he sound so similar when he said he'd protect you?

'Did Neuvillette rig the trial? That's impossible, he would never do something like that.' But it seemed to make sense. After all, he would have been able to plant a vision in your bag as well. He was hosting you in his home. Your heart sank. A cold but burning sensation crept through your throat and chest.

"Ah, you're awake. I was worried you'd not wake up my love." Neuvillette says softly, kissing your forehead gently.

"N-Neuvie?" You stutter, your voice is a bit hoarse. You look around, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light.

"Yes love, you must have been so scared, but I'm here now. He won't find you here." A smile is evident in Neuvillette's voice, with one hand his fingers lace through yours. He holds you gently with his other hand.

"... He?" You hadn't specified it was a man looking for you had you? No, had you even said someone was following you? When did he find out you were being chased? Why didn't he say anything?

"That stoic Mondstadt noble, you have expensive tastes." Neuvillette laughs a bit, "Though I'm delighted that those standards include me." He kisses your knuckles.

"Y-You're being a little more affectionate than usual." You stutter, cursing the nervousness in your tone.

"But of course, I have to take extra care of you since you've had such an awful moment, no? It was hard for me to judge you guilty, my love.

But it had to be done."

...

#genshin impact #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #Hm #I might write more yandere content it's surprisingly fun #tw yandere #yandere

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northernexposureonly · 21 days

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CHRIS IN THE MORNING: Hey, good news, Cicely. After the first shock of spring, my allergies are waning. Just a little postnasal drip remains. Sniff. Oh, other good news— uh, no new bear sightings lately. I guess our fat furry friends have headed to the hills to make new little bears. Before we say good-bye, let's take a look back at those great cave bears of old and talk about a very special birth. About the same time our Cro-Magnon ancestors started burying themselves, they started doing the same thing with bears. What's that mean? What are you— What are you saying here, Stevens? Well, I'm talking about the Big Bang of the human psyche: the recognition of death.

NORTHERN EXPOSURE 3.19 Wake Up Call

#wake up call #nx 3x19 #un medico tra gli orsi #northern exposure #ausgerechnet alaska #doctor en alaska #chris in the morning #chris stevens #joseph campbell #spring #bears

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bonefall · 8 months

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hiiii all my irl cats have pretty simple plant names so i translated them into clanmew hehe

sage: shubkiyyr (gray long leaf) (shorter version: shubiyyr)

coriander: hi’ishairuss (seed star leaf) (shorter version: hisharuss)

tansy: aweenowoponma (dandelion-color circle flower) (shorter version: aweenopoma)

ivy: kair (ivy)

Oh man, it's wild that I still have nothing for Tansy and Sage. Sage especially, like, I've talked about how BB!Brambleclaw rubs himself in that

Let's fix that! And while I'm at it, let's get all three types of sage and give a little intro to their medicinal uses.

Sage (Salvia nemorosa) = Meia This is NOT the species that you're used to in the guides. Salvia Officinalis is a garden herb, the cats DO NOT have access to that one! Bzzt! This one is mostly used for warding and spirituality. It's large, smelly, and can be used to treat wounds. But most interestingly, its worst enemy is slugs. Left unmanaged, they will gobble sage down to shoots, which is seen as a sign by Clan cats that the Dark Forest tries to destroy the very thing that can keep them away.

Rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus) = Meegrre ShadowClan's second favorite spice, and an HRT herb for transtom warriors. Though, you need to eat it in waaaay higher amounts than a ShadowClan soup to get those effects. Also used as a funeral herb when there's no sage to spare.

Clary (Salvia sclarea) = Ipyai An herb that ALL Clerics keep stocked. The oils of the seed are the best way to treat several eye irritations. A Cleric who does not keep a good stock of this has not been trained well on rare contingencies.

Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) = Aumwee Manfern, Tansy, and Cedar are holding hands and kissing, and they're all gay and trans, and they're killing ALL of the bugs together. Salt has just recently joined the polycule and is the best killer of fleas and external parasites, but tansy remains the absolute king of treating intestinal worms. Like Rosemary, it also makes an excellent funeral herb for its strong smell and preservative abilities.

And lastly... Coriander.

So here's my rub with Coriander; it seems like it's mostly an escaped garden plant, and its natural range is the Mediterranean. Warm environments. I may rule that this isn't something they'd have access to, besides Coriander the Barn Cat.

BUT Coriander is in the carrot family, and more importantly, looks like a bajillion other carrot-relatives that grow naturally in this area. I'm talking pignut, parsley, fennel, hogweed, meadowsweet, cicely, angelica, chervil. All of them are clustered little umbels that Clan cats have a dedicated word for the shape of;

Cluster (Shape of flower, lots of small flowers in a vaguely umbella-shape) = Peske

At some point I would like to do a guide on these, specifically, and in my research I might learn more about coriander. But for now I will just leave your translation untouched.

#herbs #Clanmew

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 5 months

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Only the Strong Survive Ch. 6

Series Summary: Lexie Weston is in a terrible, abusive marriage. In her mind and soul, she feels like she has no way out that won't result in her death. But something changes in her life to make her take the risk. Can she rely on Sheriff Beau Arlen to protect her like he said he would, or will this risk lead to ruin?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x OFC (eventual)

Series Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut, Angst, Fluff throughout. A pretty slow burn, TW: Abusive marriage, Domestic abuse will be talked about throughout. Chapter warnings will be more specific

Word Count: 3,348

Chapter Summary: Y/N is starting to realize some exciting and scary truths.

Chapter Warnings: Not many in this chapter. Brief mentions of abusive relationships, and hard times.

A/N: So, this next chapter took almost an entire year to get out to those of you who've been enjoying this series. I apologize profusely, and can only blame it on my cruel muses, who stalled this story in my brain. But I'm very grateful to those of you who said kind things about the story and said you were looking forward to the rest. It's encouraging to have people say they want to hear more. (In a friendly, kind way, of course.) So thank you, and I don't think the next chapter will take another whole year. (Like six months, tops. 😜 JK! JK!)

Hope you enjoy Ch. 6!

P.S. This song features in the chapter - To Make You Feel My Love and I've linked the version I was imagining here. (Minus the cheering crowd, and with a singer I love EVEN more than Garth Brooks.)

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @saradika

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Lexi stood in front of the full length mirror and shook her head at her reflection for the dozenth time that day. She felt ridiculous.

“Ooh, you look so cute!”

Cicely Travis was beaming as she came up behind Lexi to squeeze her shoulders. The young, tall, brash, and outspoken woman had become a good friend to Lexi in the months that she’d been staying at Haven House. She was a decade younger than Lexi, but seemed to have lived four lifetimes in her mere quarter century of life.

The women had shared some of their hardships with each other, but certainly not all, so Lexi only knew that Cicely had run away from home at thirteen to get away from her mom’s boyfriend, and that she’d spent some of the years since as a sex worker. It was one of the things she’d told Lexi right away.

“I was a hooker and a stripper.” Cicely had told her out of the blue on only their second meeting. When Lexi had just blinked at her for a moment, Cicely had explained. “I’m not any more, but I like to tell people that right off, so that there’s no misunderstandings or issues down the road. I did what I did, and I’m not ashamed, so, if that’s gonna stop you being a friend, then I wanna know that now. You know, save us both time.”

Lexi had just shaken her head and shrugged. “I don’t care.” She’d said honestly. “We all survive and exist the best we can. Sucks being a woman sometimes.”

Cicely had snorted. “Damn right, sister.”

Since then the women had bonded over some shared hardships and the general shittiness of most of the men they’d known. Cicely had also been there for her as Lexi had proceeded through four more court dates over the last two months.

She hadn’t been asked to speak again, thank god, but the judge insisted on all her written and recorded accounts being read into the record. So four times she’d had to sit in the courtroom and listen to Marsha read out her words describing the abuse, or else listen to her own timid voice coming through a tinny recording as she recounted years worth of trauma.

And every time, after getting a ride home from Beau complete with his encouragement that everything was going to work out, she went to Cicely’s room to commiserate about the day and to admit just how scared she was. She never wanted to admit her fears to Beau because she didn’t want to burden him more than she already had. But also, she didn't want him to think she was just this scared, trembling thing.

He’d called her a warrior, and she wanted him to keep believing that.

But Cicely would listen, and then trash Simon and the judge and Simon’s lawyer endlessly. It felt very therapeutic to Lexi, and Cicely often made her laugh with her slightly crude, but always hilarious sense of humor.

She was the perfect kind of friend for Lexi; someone non-judgmental, who was so brash and loud, and talkative, that it became impossible for Lexi to stay quiet and shy. Cicely just pulled her along in the conversation no matter what.

Now the younger woman smoothed down the back of the blue polyester robe that Lexi wore, before stepping in front of her to beam at her.

“This is so stupid.” Lexi said for the hundredth time that day. “I look like the world’s oldest high school graduate.” She rolled her eyes.

Cicely shook her head. “Nah, don’t be silly.” She pulled the graduation robe tight across Lexi’s baby bump. “You look more like a knocked up teenager.”

Lexi couldn’t help snorting out a laugh. She slapped Cicely’s hands away and let the gown fall back loose.

“Seriously,” Lexi continued, “I can’t believe they're putting on this whole thing. It feels like a bit much for passing a GED test.”

As she finished and before Cicely could respond she looked into the mirror and saw Beau and Jenny saunter into the tent.

“Oh my god!” Lexi cried as she spun around to face them. “What are you doing here?”

They both smiled and Jenny gave her a hug. “We’re here to celebrate you graduating, of course.” She answered as she stepped back beside Beau.

Lexi felt her cheeks go crimson. “Oh, for pete’s sake, I’m not graduating.” She shook her head. “I passed a test.”

“Lexi, this is a big deal. You should be proud of your accomplishments.” Beau argued while Jenny nodded.

Cicely gently bumped Lexi in the shoulder with her own. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her all day. We deserve to be celebrated!” She turned her head towards Lexi. “You listen to this beautiful man when he tells you things. He’s obviously very wise.”

Beau gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you.” He turned to Jenny and tapped a finger against his temple. “See, what have I been telling you? Wisdom.”

Jenny rolled her eyes and continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Seriously, Lexi, this is definitely worth celebrating. And to that end, the station is hosting a little graduation party for everyone this evening. Six o’clock, at Beau’s trailer. The land is beautiful, and there will be a huge bonfire to ward off the chill, and amazing BBQ and drinks.” She smiled at Lexi. “And sparkling cider for those of us who can’t partake.”

Beau looked at Lexi, understanding in his gaze as he obviously caught the trepidation in her expression. “There will also be more than a dozen cops there, so you’ll all be very safe.”

Lexi was amazed sometimes how easily Beau understood her. He seemed to read her mind at times, and he always knew just what to say to make her feel better, or feel safe. It made her happy and nervous at the same time. She could feel the way her heart was responding to him, could feel the way her body responded to him too.

When he was close to her, she always wanted to lean in to him, always wanted his arms around her. She remembered the way it had felt to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek, and now when she looked at him, she was uncomfortably aware of his mouth and how she'd been mere inches away from feeling his lips under hers.

At one of her most recent doctor’s appointments, the doctor had informed her that many women notice an increased libido during the second trimester, and warned her to make sure if she had sex to use a condom as being pregnant didn’t stop her from getting an STI.

Lexi had blushed, but told the doctor there was no chance of that. But she was blaming the increased libido for why her heart raced, and butterflies flew wildly in her belly every time Beau was near.

She didn’t know very much about sex outside of her marriage. She’d slept with three guys before Simon, and none of them had been exactly earth shattering. Of course, sex with Simon had started out as nothing special and turned into a nightmare. Thankfully in the last few years of their marriage, he hadn’t been much interested in her, and he had very little ability to get it up, so she’d at least been granted that small mercy.

So, this was the first time she’d ever felt this kind of strong attraction to someone. It was slightly overwhelming, so she was definitely blaming it on the hormones racing through her blood while also trying desperately to ignore it altogether.

Jenny gave them final details about the after party and then she and Beau hugged Lexi and Cicely quickly before going to take their place in the high school gym that was hosting their small graduation ceremony.

After they were gone, Cicely whistled slowly. “Je-sus CHRIST, that man is fine!”

Lexi choked slightly on her laughter. “Cicely!”

The other woman gave her a look. “You telling me you don’t think so?”

Lexi shrugged. “That’s not the point. He’s our friend. He’s been very kind to me.”

Cicely frowned at her. “So? That makes him LESS attractive?”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “I just mean, I don’t wanna talk about him like that.”

Cicely snorted. “There’s nothing wrong with appreciating beauty where you see it. I’m telling you, if I thought I had a chance in hell of pulling him away, I would be all OVER that man.”

Lexi felt her heart plummet. “Pull him away? I thought…” She cleared her throat. “I thought he was divorced. I didn’t realize he was with someone.”

Cicely looked at her like she was nuts. “You can not possibly be that obtuse.”

Lexi frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Cicely rolled her eyes. “What am I…? Girl, that man is so far gone for you it’s almost pathetic.”

Lexi’s eyes grew huge. “What are you talking about? Are you crazy? He’s not interested in me like that. He’s just a kind person. He’s a friend.”

Cicely gave her a deadpan stare and Lexi waved at her dismissively. “You’re crazy.” She said again.

Her friend shook her head. “Lexi, seriously. Beau is kind and friendly to me. He’s kind and friendly to his co-workers, to Sarah, to the other women here. But it’s not the same. When he looks at you, his face gets all…gooey.”

Lexi snorted out a laugh. “Gooey? Beau Arlen is not gooey about me.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Sarah poked her head into the room. “Okay, ladies - showtime! Everyone out in the hall to line up.”

Lexi smoothed down her gown and moved towards the door, but Cicely held her back a moment. “Okay, just pay attention tonight, at the Barbeque. If you pay attention, I know you’ll see it. And I say when you see it, baby, jump on it.”

Lexi shook her head and followed Cicely out the door. Her friend was wrong, imagining things. She knew it. Beau didn’t think of her as anything but a friend and someone he was trying to keep safe.

That was all…right?

***

The women and their children were shuttled over from the high school to Beau’s in a rented school bus, and when they all arrived - the party started.

Beau’s land was very beautiful, Lexi thought. It was situated in a valley with a stunning view of the mountains all around. When they arrived around six o’clock, the mid-March sun was already sinking in the west, being swallowed up by the peaks in the distance. It was a perfect night, though, slightly warmer than usual, with no wind, and a huge bonfire to throw off plenty of heat.

The kids all immediately started a game of tag in the field, and left their moms to chat and mingle with each other, the deputies, and the Haven House staff in attendance. The atmosphere was jovial and celebratory, and despite herself, Lexi began to feel excited and proud.

Not long after her arrival, she met Beau at the grill. He was laughing and joking with everyone, proclaiming he was king of the grill. As she watched him tease Deputy Poppernak, she shook her head at Cicely. She was crazy, Beau was this way with everyone.

But then he spotted her standing in the crowd and his face did…change. She didn’t know that she’d call it gooey. But his eyes definitely lit up, and he left his precious grill to come up and give her a hug.

“Lexi, you looked so great up on that stage! Congratulations!”

She hugged him back, closing her eyes and trying to get Cicely’s words out of her head while also trying to ignore the way Beau’s strong arms felt locked around her. She inhaled his cologne and the butterflies were back. He pulled out of the embrace and she smiled at the ground.

“Thanks, it was a really nice ceremony.”

“Congratulations.” Said a voice from behind her and Lexi turned to see a teenage girl walking up to stand beside Beau. “How hot are those polyester robes? I want to dress accordingly when I graduate next year.”

Beau chuckled. “Lexi, this is my daughter, Emily. Em, this is Lexi Weston.”

Lexi shook her head as she took Emily’s outstretched hand. “It’s Howard again, actually.” She looked at Beau. “Marsha is helping me with the paperwork to change back to my maiden name.”

He nodded and smiled softly. “That’s great.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Howard.” Emily said politely.

“No, please, it’s really just Lexi. And it’s so nice to meet you too. You know your dad talks about you all the time.”

“Oh my god, how boring for you.” Emily said with a pained smile and an elbow to her dad’s ribs.

Lexi laughed lightly. “No, I like his Emily stories, he’s helping me prepare.” She explained with a hand on her baby bump. In the last couple of weeks it had become an honest to goodness bump, obvious unless she was wearing something flowy. The t-shirt she and leggings she wore now did nothing to conceal it.

“Oh, good.” Emily said with a grin. “I love when he tells baby stories about me. It’s not embarrassing at all.”

Lexi laughed, and Emily reached up to kiss her dad’s cheek. “I’m gonna go organize the kids into lines to make s’mores.” She looked back at Lexi. “Congrats again.”

She bounded away and started the kid round-up. Lexi smiled and moved to stand beside Beau and watch. “She’s really great. So smart and capable.” She said as she watched the young girl effortlessly get the kids in line, and enlist the deputies to haul the s'mores making ingredients over to the bonfire.

Beau’s smile was all pride. “Yeah, she’s pretty incredible.”

Their attention was wrenched back to the barbeque as Poppernak called to Beau. “Hey boss, as king of the grill, you might wanna come figure out where all this black smoke is coming from!”

***

A couple of hours later most of the people had gravitated to sit around the big bonfire where it was warmest. There were dozens of chairs set around it, and lots of blankets to share.

Cicely and Lexi were almost in each other’s laps, curled up on a big adirondack chair under a thick wool blanket. They were very toasty, and Lexi was loving the peace and contentment she felt as she just listened to the soft rise and fall of conversations around her, the laughter that would break out occasionally, the sleepy voices of little ones in their moms’ arms, and the sharp crackling of the sweet smelling wood as it burned.

A couple of seats away Beau was leaning towards Cassie and talking animatedly with his hands. She couldn’t make out his exact words, but she liked to watch his expressions; he was so animated she could almost guess at the conversation.

He said something to make Cassie laugh and then he looked up and caught Lexi’s eye. His smile turned soft and he winked at her. “Comfy over there?” He asked a bit louder.

Lexi nodded happily. “Very.”

“Good.” His smile lingered a moment before his attention was snagged by Emily.

Cicely pinched Lexi lightly and cleared her throat. “Goo-ey.” She whispered conspiratorially.

Lexi slapped her friend’s thigh under the blanket. “Stop it.”

Cicely hummed noncommittally. “Whatever.”

When Lexi looked back at Beau he was shaking his head at Emily who was trying to pass him a guitar. Other people around the fire seemed to notice at the same time and they quieted down to listen.

“No, god.” Beau was saying with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m not gonna subject these lovely people to my singing.”

His deputies all started egging him on too, but he was shaking his head, adamantly refusing to take the guitar from his daughter. Finally she pleaded with him.

“Please, you used to sing all the time.”

“Yeah, to make you go to sleep. Pretty sure you’d just pretend to make me stop.”

Emily pouted at him. “No, I loved listening to you. Come on.” She paused. “You haven’t picked up a guitar since…since before you left Dallas.”

A look shifted over Beau’s face that Lexi couldn’t interpret. He seemed sad, but also wary. He sighed. “Em -”

“Please!” She interrupted him.

With an even deeper sigh he finally took the guitar from her. His audience clapped and he shook his head, clearly embarrassed. “Oh god. What am I supposed to sing?” He asked his daughter, slightly desperate sounding.

“Sing that one you used to sing.”

Beau lifted his hand in exasperation. “What one I used to sing.”

“The ‘love’ one…the…make you feel the love.”

“Make you feel my love?” Cassie clarified and Emily nodded. “Ooh, I love that song!”

Beau was obviously still very reluctant, but he settled the guitar on his lap and strummed a few chords before adjusting the tuning pegs to his liking. Finally he cleared his throat and shook his head as he looked out at the now silent audience staring at him.

“Oh boy.” He said quietly and everyone chuckled. “Sorry.” He said with a shake of his head.

Then he began plucking at the strings and a warm melody surrounded them all. When Beau began singing there was a collective intake of breath, clear surprise on everyone’s faces. His voice was warm and full, melodic and emotive. In short, it was beautiful.

When the rain is blowing in your face And the whole world is on your case I would offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love

He watched Emily as he sang the words and Lexi knew he meant every word he sang to her. He looked around the circle with a slightly sheepish smile as he strummed out the melody between verses, but his eye caught Lexi’s again as he began the second verse, and it was as though something kept their gazes locked as he sang. Lexi couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear And there is no one to dry your tears I would hold you for a million years To make you feel my love

He strummed his way into the first bridge and then looked down at the ground before looking back at the rest of his audience as he began singing the bridge. Even though he wasn’t staring at her anymore, Lexi could feel every word he sang as though it was only the two of them there and he was singing it right to her.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet But I would never do you wrong I've known it from the moment that we met There’s no doubt in my mind where you belong

Cause I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue And I'd go crawling down the avenue There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do To make you feel my love

The storms are raging on a rolling sea And down the highway of regret The winds of change are blowing wild and free Oh, but you ain't seen nothing like me yet

The last verse he sang slowly, plucking the strings gently, and there was no doubt that he’d cast a kind of enchantment over the whole group.

Cause there ain’t nothing that I wouldn't do Go to the ends of the Earth for you Make you happy, make your dreams come true To make you feel my love

The last note echoed into the evening air and there was a moment of peaceful quiet before everyone started clapping and talking at once. Several deputies got up to slap Beau on the back, and everyone was shouting disbelief and praise.

For his part, Beau turned very red, and thrust the guitar back into Emily’s hands before wrapping one arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, and kissing the top of her head.

Beside her Cicely sighed deeply and repeated herself to Lexi. “Gooey.” She said, but her tone was definitely saying, “I told you so.”

@lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

#beau arlen #beau arlen series #beau arlen fluff #beau arlen fan fic #beau arlen fic #only the strong survive

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saturdaynightghostclub · 9 months

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Highway Hypnosis

Chapter 9: Cicely

I met an old woman in a movie theater queue in Chicago right after I graduated college. She was there alone, like me, trying in vain to make her day mean something. I noticed her immediately; in a sea of denim and cotton, she was in a sundress and sandals, the kind you wear to wade through a river when you’re hiking. She noticed me too, though I’m not sure what it was that stood out about me. She asked me where I was from; for some reason I didn’t strike her as a local. I leaned into it, just for a secret to keep, and told her I was from Seattle. And what a coincidence, she was too. “In my past life,” she explained, “I was a mermaid. It kills me to be out here with no water.” I reminded her of Lake Michigan, and she just shook her head. It wasn’t the same.

That woman stuck with me. Maybe I was projecting onto her, but I swore from that moment that I could feel her living deep inside the throes of my body, with her fist curled around my spine, dictating my every move with a benevolence I resented. I grew restless, too big for my mother’s home and entirely too small for whatever lay beyond its front door. There was an inevitability to the woman’s words; she and I would make it back home. Maybe we’d go somewhere and be mermaids together, just jump into the freezing northern waters and reject the world that had brought us up.

As I emerge from the Evergreen river’s icy current, I wonder if this counts. Is it that you can’t be a mermaid in freshwater, or is it more a matter of affinity? Regardless of how the movie theater woman would answer, I think she’d be proud of me. For some reason her hypothetical opinion of me matters more than I’d like to admit.

Jasper’s sitting on a large rock on the river bank, letting the late afternoon sun evaporate whatever cold water is left on his skin in transcendent drops of gold. He spent the night at my place last night, high on life after cracking the library code mystery. There have been remarkably few times throughout my life when I’ve been completely, genuinely at a loss for words, but waking up in his arms this morning was one of them. His face is turned toward the sky, and then suddenly it isn’t. I swim leisurely toward him as his gaze focuses on something on the beach towel to his right—my cell phone, I realize, which must mean it’s ringing. By the time I reach him and haul myself up onto the rock beside him, it’s almost too late. I don’t bother with the caller ID in my hurry to pick up the call, and the regret that washes over me immediately after the damn thing goes live is palpable.

“There you are! Thank goodness, Andie, do you know how many times I’ve tried to call you?”

“Mom? What’s going on, is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” My mother asks, incredulous, as if I should already know. “I have called you eight times, Andrea. Eight! And you haven’t picked up once. Care to explain?”

I don’t, but I’ll try. “Service is spotty up here, I honestly didn’t realize you’d even tried calling,” I say, followed by a weak “sorry, Mom.” I realize I’ve unconsciously pulled my knees to my chest, a position I often assume when talking to my mother. A therapist I once saw said it was part of a fawn response, which I suppose is understandable aside from the fact that it happens even during the most benign conversations.

“I don’t want your excuses, it’s not why I called,” she snaps. I figure it would be better to just let her talk, as anything I have to say past this point will be under the lens of her scrutiny, so I wait for her to continue. “I’m coming up to visit,” she says, “on the first of September. I’m staying four days, and I’ll need a ride to and from the airport.”

“Okay,” I say, cautiously, “will you send me your flight details in a text so I know what time to come get you?”

“They’re in your inbox already,” she replies, sounding exasperated. Once again, I guess I should have read her mind. Silly me. I inhale, sitting up straighter as Jasper slides an arm around my waist, his hand coming to rest on my hip. I’m not sure if he can hear anything more than my side of the conversation, but he seems attuned to my stress regardless. I cover his hand lightly with my own, resisting my body’s urge to move closer to him.

“Okay, I mean—,” I start. I can’t exactly tell her not to come; I can’t even lament that she didn’t warn me further ahead of time as, per her own testimony, she tried. “—Okay. I’ll see you soon, I guess.”

“Don’t sound so eager, it’s only your mother,” she replies sharply.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I sigh, “I’ll see you in a week. Can’t wait.” She hangs up the phone without saying goodbye. Manners only matter when it’s mine that are lacking. I set the phone down, staring straight ahead for a moment as I close my hand around Jasper’s, lacing my fingers through his.

“Your mom?” He asks after a beat, in his soft way which, infuriatingly, makes me want to simultaneously tell him my deepest secrets and break down sobbing in his arms. How on Earth does he do that?

“Mhmm,” I hum, deciding on a dime to keep the conversation light, “she’s coming up in a week. She didn’t tell me why.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work,” Jasper says, leaning in to kiss my temple before I finally look at him.

“Yeah,” I nod, “you could say that.”

I don’t know if it’s residual teenage rebellion or the fact that I know inherently that my mother will hate him or what, but in this moment, looking at Jasper, I’m hit by a wave of Something that knocks the breath out of me completely. He is truly, completely perfect.

It occurs to me that I’ve been staring at him a moment too long when, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, he says “What?”

I kiss him, and his small noise of surprise is submerged in a current of that sweet, slow darkness that envelops me whenever we’re together.

Jasper and I, in a rare moment of extraverted unison, have agreed to spend the evening with Joshy and Janie at her apartment above the cafe. It was Janie’s idea—she said it would be fun to have “couple friends,” but I get the distinct feeling she’s just curious about what exactly a relationship with the infamous Moss might look like—and, while she vaguely mentioned card games, I know for a fact she’s made no plans beyond sitting around on the floor and passing a bottle of gin back and forth. It’s a refreshingly low-stakes concept; in Chicago, if I wanted to socialize with anyone I needed to go to at least three bars and one late-night taco truck before we settled down for the night. I don’t think I’ve done the old “split a bottle of gin” routine since senior prom.

For some reason I expected Jasper to be nervous about the outing, but he’s not. He’s actually anything but. He even snagged some snacks from the general store on our way to Janie’s because “you can’t show up empty-handed, who raised you?”

The door to the apartment is unlocked, and upon opening it I’m met with an almost-tangible wave of sound. Music, laughter, pots and pans banging around in the kitchen.

“Hello?” I call, “We’re here.”

“Coming!” Janie responds, shortly before rounding the corner with two cocktail glasses hanging from her right hand. “Nice tat, Andie,” she grins devilishly, and after a moment of confusion my hand flies to my neck. I spin to look at Jasper, swatting him with the back of my hand.

“Oh my god, did you give me a hickey?” I hiss, a spark of satisfaction overcoming my embarrassment as his face flushes red.

“Sorry, sorry—ow, Jesus!” He mumbles, stifling laughter and backing away from my attacks until his legs hit the arm of Janie’s couch. “Okay, okay!” He says, finally allowing himself to laugh fully. “Okay, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.” He’s holding out his pinky finger and, with a raised eyebrow, I link mine through it. As long as he swears.

Janie has disappeared back into the kitchen, replaced by Joshy, who’s apparently been banished for burning the popcorn. “Boys,” I say in lieu of a goodbye, sweeping into the kitchen to let them entertain themselves while I endure Janie’s inevitable bout of relentless teasing.

“I cannot believe he did that,” I mutter softly, coming to stand beside her, “I’m going to kill him. You know my mother’s coming to town in a week? Kill him for me, Janie.”

She laughs. “Spoons are in the drawer closest to the fridge,” she says. I understand her meaning; anyone who’s been the unfortunate victim of a hickey is familiar with the cold spoon trick. I search the drawer for the biggest metal spoon I can find before submerging it in a glass of ice water. Janie’s stirring a jar of something gorgeous and purple. She turns to me and says, “Honestly, I’m impressed. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s given me a hickey since high school. What’s that?”

“Gin, I infused it with this blue tea stuff. It’s supposed to be good, we’ll see. So, have you…?” She asks casually.

“Yep,” I reply, trying to match her tone so she doesn’t shriek in response. It’s no use.

“Yes!” She squeaks, “How was it? Was it good?”

I feel myself flush and press the cold spoon into my neck in the vain hope that it’ll bring me back to a normal temperature. “Janie, I don’t even have the words to describe how good it was.”

“Really? Oh my god, Andie! Tell me everything, I can’t believe you didn’t text me immediately,” she says, bringing her tone back down to a whisper-shout that’s no less suspicious than her high-pitched shriek.

“It literally happened last night!” I whisper-shout in response, unable to keep the grin from my face.

“No excuse!”

“Fine, fine! ‘Kay, so first of all, he has a tattoo above his knee—,”

“Ladies?” Joshy asks from the doorway, eyebrow quirked in an amused expression. Shit.

“Coming!” Janie answers brightly, shooting me a look that says plainly “we’ll talk about it later.” I almost wish it was just the two of us tonight, just Janie and I. There’s nothing like a debrief between girls, between friends; I knew I missed having non-men around, but now that I know I have at least one to count on, it's like forbidden fruit. I don’t want to hang out with the boys, I want to dish with my friends. I make a promise to myself, then: I’ll call my college friends tomorrow. I’ll tell them everything. I won’t let go of my adolescence just yet.

#highway hypnosis #writers on tumblr #this chapter brought to you by the time-honored ritual of the Girly Debrief #and the butterfly gin i made for my best friend’s birthday #it’s delicious y’all #Spotify

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thebonnevillegamepodcast · 2 months

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It's time to learn a little more about our lead characters!

Araminta "Minty" Lam

Full Name: Araminta Joy Lam Nicknames: Minty, Mint, and the Spooky Girl Age: 25 Birthday: November 22 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Bisexual Height: 5’4” Nationality: Chinese and Filipino American Religion: Spiritual but not religious Place of Birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Occupation: Supernatural Podcaster (The Night Owls of Philly) and Graphic Designer Face Model: Lydia Shum and Joyce Cheng Voice: Rachanee Lumayno

Minty is excitable and bubbly. She's a kind-hearted, friendly, and cheerful spooky goth girl. She can be one-track minded, especially when it comes to anything related to the supernatural. This can make Minty seem rude when she’s just bulldozing right past someone’s point or attempt at changing the topic. She’s a little too confident in her knowledge of the occult, believing she can handle whatever is thrown at her because she’s seen a lot of scary movies. She’d never be “stupid” like a horror movie character would be.

She’s a healthy skeptic. She doesn’t believe everything she hears and prefers to investigate before she buys into something. She knows there are a lot of scam artists out there that will take advantage of people who believe in the supernatural.

Minty desperately wants to find proof of ghosts and the afterlife. So far, she’s come up empty and that disappoints her.

She is very family oriented and gets along with most of her family. Her father passed away when she was young, and she currently lives with her mom and older sister.

Likes: Her friends and family, horror and sci-fi, romcoms, queer media, socks, laughing at Hallmark movies with her mom and sister, scary stories, podcasts, podcasting, autumn, rainstorms, MST3K, rock, death rock, goth rock, post punk, rockabilly, coffee shops, and video games

Dislikes: Humidity, feet, styrofoam, doing laundry, glue smell, cold fries, wearing pants, beer, fatphobia, and flies

Favorite Foods: Grilled Cheese and Pickle Sandwiches, Siopao Asado, Picarones, Hong Kong Egg Tarts, Egg and Banana Roti, Mooncakes, and Wawa Soft Pretzels

Favorite Drinks: Boba Milk Tea and Amaretto Sour

Favorite Animal: Bats

Favorite Color: Green

Laura Bates

Full Name: Laura Marion Bates Nicknames: Laurie, Lulu, Lars, and Lala Age: 25 Birthday: March 4 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Lesbian Height: 5’6” Nationality: Black American Religion: Agnostic, but exploring Witchcraft Place of Birth: Somewhere in Pennsylvania (It'll be revealed later!) Occupation: Supernatural Podcaster (The Night Owls of Philly) and Accountant Face Models: Bern Nadette Stanis and Cicely Tyson Voice: Krystal Gem

While Laura’s love of all things supernatural and macabre could rival Minty’s, she’s a lot less excitable. She’s sarcastic with deadpan sense of humor without being cynical. Laura is blunt about her opinions, but she has some sense of tact. She can be just as dorky as Minty and she feels absolutely no shame about it. Life is too short to worry about what other people think.

Laura is a natural born leader. She’s talented and brilliant, but she doesn’t trust people easily. Minty and Ingrid are the only two people she truly trusts. She struggles with her self-worth and PTSD, preferring to fight her inner demons in private. Laura doesn’t reach out for help nearly as often as she should. She is a lot better at helping other people with their problems and she’s a humanitarian at heart.

Likes: The macabre, scary movies, Halloween, autumn, the countryside, small cottages and cabins, farms, theme parks (especally abandoned ones), sci-fi, the Star Battles franchise, terrible YA romance books and movies, murder mysteries, punk rock, reading, books, video games, dark academia, and cottagecore

Dislikes: Talking about her past, washing dishes by hand, heights, parking, this economy, balloons, and sports

Favorite Foods: Seafood, Croquettes, Chocoflan, Philly Cheesesteak, Sweet Potato Muffins, Pineapple Salsa, and Guava Pastries

Favorite Drinks: Strawberry Mint Tea and Long Island Iced Tea

Favorite Animal: Horses

Favorite Color: Orange

Ingrid Sullenberger

Full Name: Ingrid Ellen Sullenberger Nicknames: Inga, Ingri, and Ing Age: 24 Birthday: February 22 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Pansexual Height: 5’3" Nationality: White American (German, Norwegian, and English) Religion: Pagan Place of Birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Occupation: Supernatural Podcaster (The Night Owls of Philly) and Tattoo Artist Face Models: Macha Méril and Lynn Lowry Voice: Kat Walker Shea

Ingrid is soft-spoken and timid. She can be shy, but once she feels comfortable, she loves to talk! She seems like she would be the polar opposite of Minty, but she’s just as into horror, spooky things, and alternative culture. She just also really likes cutesy things and romance movies.

Most of her tattoos are also very easy to hide with clothing, making her appear more conservative than she actually is. While she's gained respect in the tattoo community, she does still stick out like a sore thumb among her own.

She’s a pushover and she lacks assertiveness. While she’ll always come through in a clutch, she is the easiest to scare. She must overcome her intense fears to help Minty go toe-to-toe with O'Malley the Smiling Demon. She's the type of person who forces herself to power through her terror. Ingrid is incredibly kind and she has a strong sense of empathy.

She believes in the paranormal and she takes it deathly serious. She will often butt heads with Minty over not being cautious enough. She and Laura don't always agree on matters of the supernatural, but immensely respect each other.

Likes: Tattoos, tattoo artistry, drawing, paganism, witchcraft, scary movies, Halloween, Christmas, romance movies, cute accessories, stuffed spiders, sweets, animals, autumn, sweaters, musicals, cinema history, the beach, forests, and winter

Dislikes: Disrespecting the occult, standing up for herself, baking or cooking, animatronics, sand (it gets everywhere), and bitter foods

Favorite Foods: Strawberries, Hidden Rose Apple Toast, Pasta, Black Bean Burgers, Tacos de Papa, Potato Soup, and Russian Honey Cake

Favorite Drinks: Thai Iced Coffee and Mai Tai

Favorite Animal: Spiders

Favorite Color: Blue

Rebecca "Bex" McQuoid

Full Name: Rebecca Elspeth McQuoid Nicknames: Bex, Beck, and Becka Age: 36 Birthday: October 5 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Pansexual Height: 5’6” Nationality: White American (Scottish, Irish, and German) Religion: Atheist Place of Birth: Bonneville, Pennsylvania Occupation: Cook at Bonneville Podcasters' Retreat Face Models: Melanie Papalia Voice: Kat Walker Shea

Bex is a little weird. You have to be a little weird when you’re raised in a white trash family in the middle of nowhere. Bex is intelligent, but flippant. Not very many things upset her, but when they do anger her, she goes from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. She can typically diffuse tense situations simply by a lack of reaction or by telling a joke. She generally keeps a cool head, so much so it seems like she doesn’t care. In reality, she’s tired. She’s seen some shit and she is over it.

She's friendly yet apathetic to most people when she meets them at first. She doesn't hate a lot of people either. Someone would really have to press her buttons or give her a reason to hate them. She struggles to trust people on a deeper level, yet she continues to seek out connection with others. Under all her bluster, she has a good heart. She's just used to taking care of herself with little to no help from anybody else.

She’s blunt, but she’s never intentionally hurtful. Sometimes she just sucks at wording herself. She’s never been one to brush off someone else’s hurt feelings with “I’m just being honest” either.

Her life is mostly ruled by giving into the existential dread and some form of nihilism, which can make it difficult for her to form and maintain relationships with people.

Likes: Her dog and cat, animals, money, cooking, baking, discovering new recipes and foods, working out, being outside, collecting cookbooks, oat milk, and reading

Dislikes: Cops, debt collectors, working customer service, large crowds, amusement parks, almond milk, and being seen as “soft”

Favorite Foods: Homemade Bread, Macarons, Brownies, Kimchi Carbonara, Paella, Bobotie, and Pretzel Pot Pie

Favorite Drinks: Vanilla Lattes and Corpse Reviver

Favorite Animal: Cats and Dogs

Favorite Color: Pink

#the bonnneville game #podcast #audio drama #audio drama podcast #horror comedy #Minty #Laura #Ingrid #Bex #Character Profiles

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cicerenella · 5 months

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Ooh please expand on the Italy bros relationship! Even in canon they have a bit of an odd relationship. Sometimes they actually act like brothers and other times they seem uncomfortable around the other.

ah, this is going to be a long one everyone.

the relationship of the two brothers is...much more complicated than what hima portrayed, so I hope I can explain myself the best I can. Let's start in order with a bit of history! (I'm not at home, so if the writing/formatting is a bit weird sorry in advance! I will get to the other asks as soon as I can use my pc)

So we all know that both Felice and Romano are Rome's grandkids and cherish him very much even after his passing. Although Rome wasn't an ideal grandfather, preferring Feli over Romano since he "inherited" his artistic tendencies. This point to understand their relationship is quite important, since it seems that Romano's inferiority complex starts from here at a very young age. He resents his little brother already, but that is only because he's still a kid and doesn't understand why he's treated differently.

Now, after the fall of Rome, Italy was divided and conquered by many nations. The two brothers, that already didn't have the best of relationships, get separated. And they don't meet or have a proper interaction up until the Unity of Italy, in the 19th century. This to make it clear, that for the most part of their lives, these two were separated and assimilated completely different customs and cultures. That is why when the Unity happened, it didn't make a "Greater Italy" rather a "Unified Italy".

And so the year 1861 comes, and the Reign of Italy comes into fruition. Nothing short of a mess. The South, still deeply rooted in agriculture and farming, is much much poorer and behind the rising North, whom, closer to other European nations by geographical position, is being affected by the industrial revolution. How do you (the government) intervene with this situation in hand? Harshly repressing any uprising coming from the people, of course.

There have been some instances where the government tried to help the South, but all the attempts can be described with a perfect adjective "Half assed". The Giolitti government (we are in the first years of the 20th century), whom tried to industrialize the South with modern infrastructure, called the southern part of Italy "nothing more than a place where to gather political consensus"

you understand where I'm coming from?

The resentment between the brothers is HIGH at this point of history. People are literally fleeing the crumbling south (and still today!) and Romano and Felice cannot for the life of them stand eachother. Felice thinks his brother is just a big burden, while Romano thinks Felice is an ungrateful bastard that walks all over him.

There's also the whole argument about the Unity of Italy and how it was more of an "occupation" from the North, but uhhh...I'm not really going to go in that place for now.

This to say, that back then they had a terrible relationship. After WW2 however, they are trying to rekindle their broken relationship, although still today there are a lot of prejudices between the north and the south.

Romano is very sour about this, and so is Felice. They are trying to move on past this, but it's hard. It's hard to not dislike eachother. They argue a lot nowadays, since they always seem on opposites sides for everything. But, deep down, I think they care for eachother, even if they don't show it.

This to say, Hima was wrong to make romano the only one that is "mean" to feli, because in actuality it is a dislike that goes both ways. Have you ever seen a Juventus-Naples football match? don't tell me these two don't get into physical fights after it.

Oh and Romano still has a massive inferiority complex in regards of his brother. Feli is the richer, modern, and successful one, while in the parliament he is the "black sheep" of his country. Its rare, but Feli sometimes comforts him for this, explaining to him that he is an important part of their country too.

Because, despite their differences, they're part of a bigger thing, Italy. They might argue A LOT but its undeniable the love they share for one another. Never forget that ♡♡

#hetalia #right in the feels with this one #they still have a lot of problems to sort out #but they still care #in their weird way #hws italy #hws romano #cice talks

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 1 year

Text

Assassination?

----

The plan to assassinate the prince was simple, get in, stab him int he back, get out again. Easy, simple, very little room for error.

So how the hell does that end up with the prince not only still alive, but now accompanying Janus and his friends who all plotted and actively attempted to murder him? I hear you ask.

Well the answer is actually quite simple, both Janus and the prince are very, very gay.

----

| Ao3 | Next part |

Warnings: Assassination, talk of murder, faked character death, weapons, poison, talk about fighting, brief mention of suicide in context of Romeo and Juliet, a very brief bit of species racism.

Pairings: Roceit

Word Count: 2881

Notes:

not me, pumping out almost 3k words in about an hour after barely writing anything for ages.

I'm really spoiling y'all this week, there's another fic coming up on Sunday!

This is for the second day or Roceit Week! I hope you enjoy!

----

It was supposed to be simple.

Get in, kill the prince, get back out. All under cover of darkness during the biggest celebration of the winter. He was supposed to sneak into the castle, disguise himself as a servant during the preparations for the gala, find the prince’s room, tell the prince he was there to do some job or whatever that would get him vulnerable and then stab him through the back.

And after that he was supposed to redisguise himself as a soldier, leave the prince’s room and get out of the castle, stopping by the furnace room on the way to dispose of the evidence. Leave the castle, meet up with Virgil and Logan and get the fuck out of the kingdom.

Simple, less than ten super simple steps, the main part of which involved disguise, which was Janus’ speciality.

Very little could go wrong, his companions had made absolute sure of it.

So of course, the moment they attempted to carry out the plan everything went to shit.

The first thing he realised was that he was supposed to know every other servant by name. Obviously a system set up to stop this exact kind of plan. Janus, of course, had a list of every servant’s name that Logan had acquired, but that didn’t exactly help him match name to face, he simply had to guess and hope that the name he said when describing who he was running off to help wasn’t the name of the servant standing in front of him.

Luckily, he had mentioned he was going to help Cicely, and the girl who had asked him was called Janet. Thank goodness.

And then he had gotten lost, because apparently the map that they had acquired wasn’t up to date on the castle’s layout. Janus had gone in circles for almost twenty minutes looking for the Prince’s chambers and when he’d arrived, another servant seemed about to go in, so he stopped her.

“Excuse me,” Janus said in the politest voice he could muster, “What are you doing going into the prince’s chambers?”

“Um,” She said, staring at him confused, “I’m his handmaid… I’m supposed to get him prepared for the celebrations? What are you doing here, and why didn’t you know that? And why don’t I recognise you?”

“Apologies, I’m new, but didn’t Janet tell you?” Janus lied, using the only name of a higher up servant he knew to not belong to this girl, “You’ve been given the day off today, I’m taking over your duties for this evening so you’re free to enjoy the celebrations, as a reward for all your hard work…”

“Oh really?” She asked, gasping, Janus was internally relieved that she seemed to be delighted by the fact rather than suspicious, “I shall have to tell her thank you after the celebrations, oh I’ve always wanted the night off to go! Oh- what’s your name, I’ll tell her to give you something as a thank you for letting me know!”

“I’m- er- Jay?” Janus said, trying for smooth, he couldn’t very well tell her his real name, nor his usual cover name for talking to clients, ‘Deceit’ certainly wouldn’t fly in this context.

“Alright Jay! Good luck with the prince, he can be a handful, thank you so much again!”

And off she went sprinting down the hall. Janus knew he was on an even tighter time limit now, because she would certainly tell someone and immediately find out about the lie. He just had to hope she would take a while.

But hey, if the prince’s handmaid was that easy to deceive, the prince himself should be a piece of cake, right? Wrong.

Because apparently the prince was as observant as he was rumoured to be an idiot (which was very, but Janus would very soon find out that the rumours were untrue). Prince Roman seemed to know something was wrong the moment Janus opened the door.

“You aren’t Lucinda.” He said, narrowing his incredibly pretty amber eyes at Janus from where he sat on the window seat. Janus dropped into a bow just as they had practiiced.

“No, your highness,” Janus said, trying to keep his tone even, “Lucinda was relieved for the evening so that she could attend the festival, I am her replacement for the night.

Roman hummed, closing the book he had been reading and standing up, walking over to Janus with long strides and wow this guy was tall. Janus had to keep from instinctively reaching for the knife he had hidden on his person. He couldn’t give himself away yet. Roman circled around him once, before stopping in front of him and making such intense eye contact that Janus was struggling not to melt. His eyes were in fact incredibly beautiful, amber like the gem and lit with fire, flecks of gold and orange and red and brown and why exactly was Janus focusing so much on this guy’s eyes?

“I’ve never seen you before,” Roman said bluntly, “I would remember a face like yours, very pretty.”

Janus did not squeak when the prince he was here to murder in cold blood for a grudge that was not even his own said that he was pretty and anyone who said otherwise was a dirty liar.

“Um, thank you, your highness? I’m- new to the staff.” Janus explained, fighting every instinct in his poor body that was telling him to look away.

“Ah, they’re always hiring newbies these days, what’s your name?”

“Jay, sire,” Janus said, before doing something he would definitely regret later, but it wouldn’t matter, because he was here to murder the prince, right, “Short for, uh Janus.”

“Janus, huh?” Roman said with a smile, and yeah, that was the reason, because the prince had such a wonderful voice, the way it sounded to hear his name - his real name that no-one but he, and now the prince, knew - said aloud in such a wondrous voice and oh god how the hell was Janus supposed to murder this guy.

“Yes, sire,” Janus said, finally averting his eyes.

“Oh do drop the ‘sire’s and ‘your highness’s” Roman said, walking away and waving a hand as though he was wafting away a fly, “They’re so stuffy and formal, call me Roman, please, all the staff do.”

Janus was fairly certain he was very rapidly descending into a full fledged crisis right now and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. His species wasn’t one of the few that took names, but somehow being given permission - even though he wasn’t really a servant - to use the Prince’s name felt like a little too much. Especially when he was very quickly starting to feel worse and worse about the idea of murdering him.

“Are you alright, Jay?” Roman said from halfway across the room, when did he get there? Did Janus really just space out ? Virgil would kill him for letting his guard down so much, “You haven’t moved since you first came in…”

“I’m- I’m fine, apologies, um, Roman.” Janus said, coughing as he tried to get rid of the blush on the more human side of his face - luckily he was a snake, not a chameleon, he’d seen the colours they go when embarrassed.

“No need, I know I can be ‘full on’ sometimes,” Roman waved a hand, once again dismissing his statement, “Now, are you going to attempt to assassinate me now, or later?”

“What.” Janus said, eyes going wide, how the hell had Roman known? Roman turned and smirked back at him.

“You’re in the old servants uniform, I’m surprised no-one picked up on it.” Roman pointed out, “The name of my handmaid is Beatrice, not Lucinda. My parents are also incredibly specist and thus all of our staff are either human or human passing, which you, good sir, are not - an oversight on your part I’m sure - and besides, I meet all new servants, we haven’t had someone new in weeks and even besides all of that they wouldn’t have assigned such a new staff member to cover for my handmaiden should it be necessary, which it is not considering Beatrice did not really have a night off tonight, or I would have been informed much earlier.”

Janus could only stare, jaw ajar, at the prince, wondering how on earth they had thought this plan out so badly despite the hours of thinking they had put into this.

“You have a knife in your sleeve, one concealed in your belt and another tucked in your shoe, surely poison would’ve been better? You could have brought me a drink and slipped it in and I would have been none the wiser,” Roman said, sitting down on a stool and looking at him expectantly. Janus knew he was supposed to say something now, but he wasn’t sure quite what.

“I- well- I suppose that might have worked?” Janus tried, what the hell was happening, “You’re not- your not going to call the guards?”

“No,” Roman said, “This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all year and besides, now that I’ve found you out I doubt you’re going to fight me head on, you’re much more built for stealth than battle and I’d also assume that I have more training in that regard than you do, based on your current stance, so I’d likely win that fight anyway.”

“Right,” Janus said, rolling his eyes, “No, I’m not going to fight you head on, but- what- you’d rather remain in a room with an assassin than go enjoy the gala?”

“Of course,” Roman said as though it were obvious, “I’d much rather stay in here with a pretty criminal than go out there to have girls gawk at me and my parents breathing down my neck.”

“And your brother?”

“I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he got himself a fake identity and hired you to murder me as a practical joke.” Roman said bitterly, Janus winced, the prince really didn’t seem at all happy to be here.

“I see- wait, did you call me pretty? Again?” Janus asked, once again a little flabbergasted.

“Of course,” Roman rolled his eyes, “You are incredibly beautiful, little naga, I don’t flirt with all my staff, fake or not, you know.”

Janus hid the human side of his face with a hand, knowing for sure that he was bright red, he didn’t get compliments often, sue him, “How the hell am I supposed to murder you when you’re complimenting me like that?”

Roman flashed him a smile, “That’s the idea, sweetheart.”

Again, Janus didn’t squeak. He was far too dignified for such a thing.

“Anyway, I have an idea as to how I can get what I want and you can also get what you want, if you’re willing to hear me out?” Roman suggested, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, still looking over at Janus with those gosh darn eyes.

Well… Janus didn’t really have any better options, so he nodded and Roman gestured him to a seat opposite his own stool. Janus sat down hesitantly.

“With speed, though, I’m not sure how long it’ll be until someone finds out your handmaiden isn’t doing her job.”

Roman nodded, before pulling a small vial out of his pocket and turning to him with a cunning grin.

“I propose that we fake my death.” Roman said simply, Janus looked from the vial back to Roman in surprise, “This- when I drink it - will simulate the effects of death, so I’ll drink this, you will hide, it’’ll kick in, I’ll ‘die’."

“And then?” Janus asked, raising an eyebrow, “Won’t they take away your body?”

“No, they’ll leave me here, under normal circumstances dress me up a little and put me on display for people to pay respects before cremating my body,” Roman said, crossing his legs, “In our case, you’ll let them find me and sound the alarm that I’m dead, and then you’ll steal my ‘dead’ body and sneak out of the castle, I read about a plan like this in a story, once.”

“And did it work, in this story?” Janus asked, seeming more doubtful by the second.

“It did not, the lovers had no communication, so when one drank the poison to get out of an arranged marrage the other found her ‘dead’ and stabbed himself, she woke up to find her dead partner next to her and killed herself too, it was quite upsetting,” Roman explained, Janus just huffed, “But! That won’t happen to us, because you know that I’m not really dead, therefore this plan should go flawlessly.”

“Right,” Janus huffed, “Ok, sure, we can try this batshit plan of yours, Prince, it’s not like my first plan went as it should have.”

“Wonderful!” Roman grinned, “Now listen, a guard should arrive in roughly ten minutes to escort me to the gala, I’ll take the poison now and lay down, it’ll look like I died in my sleep, you go out of the window onto the ledge and hide out of sight-”

—-

Almost an hour later the news of the Prince’s death had already travelled throughout the castle and likely beyond. Janus had been waiting on the window ledge for what felt like forever as people bustled in and out of the prince’s room. He wasn’t sure why he waited, really. He could easily escape now and let the palace staff cremate the still living Prince. He’d be free, because he hadn’t actually done anything at all, but…

Roman had been so trusting, he had put so much faith in him to carry out his plan. The way Roman’s eyes sparkled at the idea of being free… his eyes...

Janus found he couldn’t stand the idea of never seeing those eyes again. He’d only known the prince for an hour now, wasn’t that just pathetic?

But no matter how pathetic, Janus still waiting until the flow of people seemed to have ceased for now. He wrapped up what looked like the lifeless corpse of Prince Roman (And even though he knew the prince would wake up again, the sight still made his chest hurt a little) and lifted him over his shoulders.

Roman was taller than Janus, by half a foot at least, and heavier too. His broader frame with far more muscle mass was huge compared to Janus’ small, thin frame which some may even describe as sickly or frail. It made it difficult to carry the prince, but in the end Janus managed to find a position that worked and left the room.

Somehow - because luck seemed to have turned by that point - Janus managed to escape the castle un-noticed. Somehow a tiny naga running through the streets carrying what looked like a corpse wrapped in very obviously expensive blankets went un-noticed and Janus got safely back to the rendezvous point where Logan and Virgil waited with a cart without confrontation, though he was exhausted and out of breath from carrying the prince, to the point where he practically buckled the moment he entered the small private space.

“Jay!” Virgil cried from the cart, jumping down and running over, “What the hell? You were- you were supposed to- what the fuck dude?”

“I- I kidnapped the prince,” Janus said after taking a deep breath.

“We can see that,” Logan said, appearing behind Virgil, “Though he looks dead.”

“Some poison that apparently makes him look dead for a while,” Janus said, making sure Roman hadn’t gotten hurt when he fell, "I'm not sure how long it'll last."

“Everyone’s saying he’s dead,” Logan said, “The rumours are already spreading, we need to leave, do we leave him here?”

“Of course not!” Virgil cried, “Jay has already fucked us over by bringing the prince here! We can’t just- leave the guy for someone to find!”

“As much as I don’t agree with the part about me fucking us over,” Janus said, dusting himself off, “I do agree with the rest of that statement, we need to bring him.”

“Wonderful,” Logan said, sarcastically, “Why didn’t you just stick with the plan we came up with?”

“He found me out,” Janus explained, standing up and lifting the prince once again, this time carefully placing him in the back of the cart and climbing up after him, Virgil followed, shooting a withering glare at the prince before looking back at Janus.

“How? Our plan was foolproof-”

“It was actually pretty terrible,” Janus interrupted, “for a multitude of raasons, which is why we need inside help for this kind of job.”

“We will aspire to get inside help for jobs in the future,” Logan sighed, hopping up into the drivers seat of the cart and starting them moving, “We’ll discuss this more later, for now, we must get out of the city.”

Janus hummed an agreement and allowed himself to flop onto his back next to the unconscious prince. Virgil stared at him with a look on his face that showed how completely he was done with him already, Janus simply ignored him, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Today had been something, tomorrow will probably come with even more exhausting hassle when the prince woke up, but for now Janus wasn’t going to think about that. For now, all Janus had to do was fall asleep.

That night he dreamt of amber eyes, full of fire and gold.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess (if anyone wants to be added let me know!)

@roceit2023

#sanders sides #roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #ts roman #ts janus #virgil sanders #logan sanders #rowans writings

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paldeansunflowers · 8 months

Text

Hello, I’m Clementine! I’m a farmer and minor “gym leader” (I say it in quotes because the local kids treat me as one, I’m not certified at all, lol) and I made this blog because I heard others talking about Rotumblr and I thought it would be a nice community to join.:) I’m from Johto originally, but moved to Paldea for the beautiful climate (and Nurse Joy certification)

My birthday is July 14th, and I’m 22 years old- I’ve been living in Paldea since I was 17 (to attend Nurse Joy college)

I have been informed that you are supposed to put your pronouns here too, so mine are she/her:)

I live with my team, two farm dogs, and various Wooloo, torchic, and small Pokémon that like to come visit occasionally. My hobbies include painting, weaving, and chasing those dang Wattrel away from my farm (they try to get at the local Smoliv!!) More blog posts to follow! (Though I cannot work Rotumblr as well as some young people- and I’m also blogging off of a bad internet connection- as I don’t use technology much)

Here’s my trainer card- though I cropped it too much- oops- Bayleef is named Bean, Venesaur is Lady, and Skitty is Junebug. Bean is also my starter, though he’s chronically allergy prone:(.

Anyways, uh, I think that’s more than enough text, so more posts to follow! And in the meantime I’ll figure out how this platform works.

(Ooc and linked post with what Clementine looks like under the cut:>)

Hi, Im Bunnie, and this is an unreality/Pokémon irl blog for one of my ocs! My friend Mayo convinced me to make one so here we go! It’s also kinda an ama blog so you can ask “clementine” anything and I’ll try to stay in character lol (it’s my first character blog)

Oh, and while Clementine is an adult, I (Bunnie) am a minor- so please keep that in mind

Uh that’s all! I don’t think I wanna link a mainblog so uh. Yeah that’s it! Have a good day!!<3

#pokemon irl #unreality #first post!#introducing myself

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snowcandyz · 2 years

Text

The Letter Under The Shoes [Part 3]

Genre: Dark, Heavy angst

Summary: MC felt responsible for what happened in Lesson 37

TW: Depression, depressive thoughts, abusive and negligence parents, su*cidal thoughts, su*cice, self sacrifice, blood, characters’ death, toxic relationship

Please beware and read the TW properly. This chapter is really heavy and I don't condone the actions in this chapter. Please reach out and seek help from the ones you trust before it's too late.

Twins; a symbol of fertility and good luck.

They shared the same soul, the same mind, the same feeling. The bonds they have with each other are deeper than their other siblings. They could be fraternal or identical; two separate DNAs or one of the same. But no one will doubt the deep bond they shared.

Although in some cases, they’re depicted as a bad omen.

A shadow of the other; the meaner version of the other; the caused of the other’s misery. How their heart wept when they were not near each other.

The same goes for the demon brothers. MC could only watch Beel and Belphie finally reuniting after the attic incident with a joyful smile; because they know how bad those two must have missed each other.

Tick tock.

Time is ticking.

MC watched those two from the sidelines.

The twin should savour these memories with each other. After all, you might never know when your other half will be gone; just like how MC lost theirs.

Daniel is–was MC’s everything.

He was their protector; their brother; their hero.

He showed them everything an older brother could share with his sibling. He cared for them and loved them with his whole heart. He braced himself for the blame when MC couldn’t take it, earning whatever insults or guilt-tripping their mother could throw at him.

Daniel showed MC the true meaning of strength.

There were days when little MC would come to Daniel’s room just to vent about their day; as well as having Daniel cradle them to sleep because of their nightmares.

There were days when Daniel would comfort MC and bought them sweets using his own money to cheer them up.

There were days when those two held each other’s hand as a form of support while making sure their little sister didn’t wake up from the constant yelling and screaming downstairs.

But of course, even twins have their own personalities and mind.

There were days when MC would come into Daniel’s room just to see him gazing out the window in silence, looking like he longed to be somewhere.

There were days when MC would catch Daniel looking intently at the kitchen knives, staring at them for a few minutes before turning his head away and giving MC a smile.

There were days when MC and their little sister would catch their older brother sitting quietly after dinner with eyes void of light and joy.

But twins stick together, so MC tried comforting him and giving him support. Just like what he did to them. Whether it’s sufficient or not, time would tell.

“MC, if I were gone one day, I hope you’ll continue living.”

“Why do you keep saying stuff like that? Are you really planning on leaving me?”

Daniel didn’t reply. He just stared at his beloved sibling and patted their head gently.

“If someday… if someday someone didn’t see your worth, know that you’re unique in your own way. You don’t have to keep living under their expectations.”

“Daniel, what do you mean?”

“I never want you to feel what I feel, MC.”

“Daniel, talk to me… What’s wrong? Don’t scare me like this!”

“I hope you’ll never get to see what I’m seeing. I want you to live happily, MC. Even without me by your side.”

That was the last thing he said that made MC worried. Daniel became his usual cheerful self after that incident.

Very unusually cheerful too.

MC should’ve seen it coming. And that was why they grew anxious every day. Every ounce of their being was begging for Daniel to not do anything regretful.

And they’ve tried their best.

So when MC discovered him in his own pool of blood, their knees buckled to the floor. A loud thud was heard as they started trembling at the scene unfolding before them. No words could explain how heartbroken they felt.

Tears blocked their vision and air seemed to rush out of their lungs. They couldn’t breathe and they couldn’t scream either. They couldn’t stand up and leave; so they had to resolve to watch the lifeless body of their beloved brother on the floor.

And a little part of them was screaming, ‘Take m–

“MC! MC, are you home?” They heard their little sister’s soft voice calling from upstairs.

However, they still couldn’t stand up. So when those tiny legs approached them within an arm span, they grabbed their little sister before she could witness what happened and closed her eyes and ears.

Their sister wiggled her way to be free but the tight hold on her kept the sister still. The three-year-old was clueless but didn’t ask any longer when all she could witness was red everywhere.

Red on the floor.

Red on that knife.

Red on the doormat.

Red on their eyes.

Red as they cried in pain and sorrow.

“I never want you to feel what I feel, MC. Live happily, even without me by your side.”

The wind howled strongly on top of this building.

It may not be as tall as the Demon Lord’s Castle, but it’s doable.

Finished writing the last sentence, MC smiled to themselves once again. They brought the neatly written letters close to their chest before folding them and placing them in an envelope.

Looking far ahead, they could see Devildom in its huge and majestic condition. The lights from the houses and buildings didn’t make it seem like it was the Devildom.

Who would’ve thought hell look so glorious and beautiful like this?

“Daniel, I really want to see you. Sorry for breaking my promise. Our sister’s fine. She’s doing okay, so you don’t have to worry about her.”

“If you’re just going to leave me again, might as well just don’t come back! I hate both you and Daniel!”

With that words flashing back to their mind, MC took off their shoes and placed the envelope underneath it; to prevent the letter from flying off due to the strong wind.

MC then took several steps forward.

Lights from the street below illuminated the dark sky of Devildom.

The breeze from the wind kissed their face harshly and further disheveling their hair.

They glanced back over their shoulder to the letter under those red shoes.

A small smile painted their lips before they took another step forward.

Although the smile was visible, those several drops of tears in their eyes were also obvious. Leaning forward, they let the dark sky of Devildom witness their sacrifice.

———–

Dear everyone,

I’m really sorry for making this decision. I know you’re hurt but I hope it’s the last time I’m hurting you all. I can’t bear to think how much more trouble I could bring to you.

I’m only a weak human. I’ve been trouble ever since I’ve arrived.

I’m really sorry for being nosy and trying to solve the family’s problem. I know I’m just an outsider. But because of my nosiness, I got to know you guys better, and truthfully these past years have been very exciting and memorable for me.

I love you all so much. Thank you for accepting me as your family.

Again, I’m really sorry for leaving you when you’ve just accepted me as an identity different from Lilith.

I’m really really sorry.

But don’t worry, Lilith’s descendants didn’t end with me. I have another sister up in the Human World. She’s safe and happy.

For my last request to you all, please don’t approach her. Don’t inform her of me. Don’t tell her about Lilith; about you guys; or about the bloodline. I want her to live ignorant of all this, including my decision to leave.

And thank you so much for treating me like your own. I will never forget you guys.

Next, I want to express my thanks to Solomon.

Thank you for being my friend. I appreciate you for taking me back to Devildom. I really do… Thank you so much. I’m sure you’ve known the solution to reignite the Night Dagger by now, and I’m really sorry for taking this decision without discussing it with anyone.

I can’t hurt Lucifer. I can’t do that.

At least, with me leaving, it’ll balance the three realms, right? Because I no longer exist?

I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise to you but thank you for trying your best. Just know that this is just me being selfish. It wasn’t your fault or anyone’s fault. I have my own reason.

Thank you too to Luke and Simeon. You’re all really kind to me. I know you’re angels and that’s just your personality, but I believe you guys are more than that. The time we spent together is memorable and I’ll take it with me anywhere I go. I’m sorry I can’t meet you guys in the Celestial Realm… I’m so sorry…

Just know that I love you guys so much. Thanks for being my light throughout my whole stay in Devildom.

And finally, I wish to say my thanks to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos. I really appreciate the warm hospitality you’ve given me throughout my stay here. I apologise again for causing so much trouble to you two.

And I’m sorry for my annoying questions. I know you’re just trying to keep things confidential when it comes to your kingdom, so please don’t blame yourself because of my decision.

I’ve decided. If I can’t know what happened to him, maybe I’ll follow him instead.

This decision is solely mine to take, so please don’t hate yourself because of what I did.

I love you all so much. Thank you for these years.

-MC

Taglist: @not-a-cat-lawyer

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enchantedquill-40 · 3 months

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Ed sat alone in his cabin, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the Alaskan wilderness. The wind howled outside, carrying with it the biting chill of the northern winter. He stared into the crackling fire, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, a knock echoed through the cabin, and Joel entered cautiously.

"Hey, Ed. You've been quiet lately. Everything okay?" Joel asked, concern etched across his face.

Ed looked up, his eyes red and puffy. He tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a crumpled letter. Joel watched as Ed's hands trembled, unfolding the paper with great care.

"I got a letter," Ed mumbled, his voice barely audible. "My uncle... he passed away."

Joel's expression shifted from worry to genuine sympathy. He took a step closer to Ed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Ed. Losing family is never easy."

Ed nodded, tears streaming down his face. The weight of grief pressed upon him, and he finally let go, allowing himself to break down. Joel sat beside him, offering silent support as Ed sobbed, the pain of loss echoing through the small cabin.

After some time, Ed managed to compose himself. He wiped away the tears, still clutching the letter tightly. "He was like a father to me, Joel. Raised me after my folks passed. Now he's gone too."

Joel nodded understandingly, realizing the depth of Ed's sorrow. "If you need anything, Ed, I'm here for you. We're not just friends; we're family up here in the north."

The following days were tough for Ed. The weight of grief hung heavy in the air, and Joel did his best to support his friend through the difficult moments. They spent evenings talking by the fire, reminiscing about Ed's uncle and the memories they shared.

One particularly frigid night, as the northern lights danced across the sky, Ed spoke about his uncle's adventurous spirit. "He was the one who introduced me to the beauty of Alaska, taught me to appreciate the wild and find solace in its vastness."

Joel listened intently, recognizing the importance of these stories in helping Ed cope with his loss. The northern lights seemed to provide a comforting backdrop, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there was still beauty to be found.

In the weeks that followed, the community of Cicely rallied around Ed, offering condolences and support. Maggie brought over a pot of homemade stew, Chris played soulful tunes on the radio, and Maurice shared stories of his own losses.

One day, Joel suggested a trip into the wilderness to scatter Ed's uncle's ashes, honoring his connection to the land they both loved. The snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes bore witness to their solemn journey, a symbolic farewell to a beloved family member.

As they stood on a quiet ridge overlooking the vast expanse of Alaska, Ed whispered his goodbye to the wind, watching as the ashes dispersed into the icy air. Joel stood beside him, a silent companion in this sacred moment.

In the aftermath, Ed found a renewed sense of strength. His grief didn't vanish, but the support of his friends and the majesty of the Alaskan wilderness helped him navigate the rough waters of loss. The bond between Ed and Joel deepened, a testament to the resilience and camaraderie forged in the crucible of northern life.

And so, under the northern lights, amidst the snow-covered landscape, Ed found solace in the enduring spirit of the north and the enduring friendships that weathered life's storms. Days turned into weeks, and the weight of Ed's grief lingered. Joel, being the observant and caring friend that he was, continued to check on Ed. He recognized that Ed, despite his tough exterior, had no immediate family left, and his uncle's passing left a void that was hard to fill.

One evening, Joel knocked on Ed's cabin door, the chilly Alaskan air nipping at his cheeks. Ed opened the door, his eyes still carrying the burden of sorrow. Joel stepped inside, noticing the dimly lit room and the quiet solitude that enveloped it.

"Ed, how are you holding up?" Joel asked, his concern genuine.

Ed sighed, his shoulders slumped. "It's a struggle, Joel. I miss him every day."

Joel nodded, understanding the depth of Ed's pain. "You don't have to go through this alone, Ed. The whole town cares about you. We're like family here."

Ed's gaze softened as he looked at Joel, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "I appreciate that, Joel. But sometimes, it's hard to open up."

Joel sat down across from Ed, realizing that the solitude of the Alaskan wilderness could be both a sanctuary and a lonely place. "You might not have immediate family, Ed, but you've got a whole town that adores you. We're here for you, through thick and thin."

Ed nodded, the truth of Joel's words sinking in. As the days went by, Joel made a point to involve Ed in community activities. Whether it was joining a potluck dinner at Maggie's or attending one of Chris's eclectic performances at the local radio station, Ed found himself surrounded by the warmth of Cicely's embrace.

The town, sensing Ed's need for connection, rallied around him. Shelly, with her infectious enthusiasm, invited him to participate in a quirky local festival celebrating the unique traditions of the region. Even Maurice, known for his gruff demeanor, extended invitations to share stories over a glass of whiskey at The Brick.

As Ed gradually immersed himself in the community, he discovered that the bond he shared with his uncle extended to the town of Cicely. People genuinely cared about him, not out of pity, but because he was an integral part of their close-knit community.

One day, as Ed helped Holling repair a wooden fence, he found himself surrounded by the camaraderie of friends who became his chosen family. Joel, noticing the transformation in Ed, couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in helping his friend find solace in the company of others.

"Ed, you may have lost your uncle, but you've gained a whole town that cares about you," Joel remarked, hammering a nail into the fence. "You're not alone in this, my friend."

Ed looked around at the familiar faces, each one offering a genuine smile and a helping hand. The collective support of Cicely became a balm for Ed's wounded soul, and he realized that family wasn't just about blood; it was about the bonds forged in the crucible of shared experiences.

As the seasons changed in Cicely, so did Ed's outlook. The once-isolated man now embraced the community that surrounded him. The town's love and support didn't erase the pain of loss, but it provided a comforting backdrop, a reminder that even in the vastness of the Alaskan wilderness, he was not alone.

And so, with the ongoing support of his newfound family, Ed navigated the journey of grief, finding strength in the connection he shared with the people of Cicely. The town, in turn, cherished the resilient spirit of Ed Chigliak, a testament to the power of friendship and community in the northern wilderness.

#northern exposure #fanfic #Friendship Alaska Ed Chigliak

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pennyserenade · 1 year

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THE EXPERIMENT

pairing: joel fleischman x original female character, joel fleischman x unnamed ofc rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags: explicit, voyeurism, female masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), light praise, little bit of male sub, light dirty talk, consent is given at all times but sometimes it not explicitly spoken, a little of a prudish sex thing going on but it doesn’t have any basis in religion and isn’t really accusing, doctor/patient relationship (but is that really unethical if there’s only one doctor in the whole town? i mean, logically that’s bound to happen. i’ll leave this question of ethics up to you, though). word count: 8.7k+ (i wish i had words to explain this) summary: joel & ofc decide to explore the bounds of female sexuality & anatomy professionally, but find that maybe they want to explore something a little personal, too. a/n: well, they don’t call it the last frontier for nothing, do they? this was definitely a product of a mild case of insanity & too much self-indulgence. so i guess happy women’s history month to me. (also if you’re thinking: part one? is there going to be more? that’s up to destiny. i’m a mere helpless bystander at this point). also, also: here is a playlist/soundtrack for this story, just for your consideration.

study one, part one: simply irresistible

Don’t marry the first man you break the bed with. It will set you up for a lifetime of mediocrity.

The sound of her grandmother’s voice, heeding that exact warning, had been the reason she had agreed to do the study with Joel. At the age of nineteen she had married the man she had metaphorically broken the bed with and now at the age of twenty-five she lived in the small town of Cicely, one divorce down and a lifetime of mediocrity coming up on the horizon.

The thought of it scared her senseless.

She was still young, pretty, full of ambition. Points Fleischman had been made sure to emphasize that one night in the Brick, when the barstool conversation about self pleasure between Chris and the two of them had formed into something more substantial. They had drifted away from the erotic nature of the topic and had found themselves in the clinical, academic side of it, comparing thoughts on published literature and personal theories about sexuality. While Chris had tapped out halfway through, claiming he found talking too much about sex took the soul from it, she and Joel had doubled down. At one point she had remarked that women weren’t thought of in the medical field, not really, and told Joel if he really wanted to do something of importance, he’d tell all of his Ivy league doctor friends in New York to look into it. The bright idea came to him almost instantly as the words left her mouth.

It took him a week and a half, but eventually after enough of his convincing and her grandmother’s voice in the back of her head, she had agreed. “For the advancement of science,” she had told him one fateful afternoon, “nothing more, nothing less.”

He had beamed at the news and remarked, “Of course! I see you in a purely professional manner—just a fellow academic looking to travel the unbeaten paths of female sexuality with me. It’ll be great.”

The paths were not exactly unbeaten — the ‘60s and ‘70s had been a wonderful time for exploration, Joel had discovered by himself — but they certainly weren’t as smooth as they could be. She was happy to do her part, and happy to be occupied with something more than work at the café and nights at the bar and the impending doom of her future at large.

“Doesn’t it worry you?” Shelly asked, sitting down a plate of eggs in front of her. “The idea of Dr. Fleischman seeing all of your…well, you know?”

“He’s seen yours hasn’t he?” she asked, grabbing the salt shaker off the table and coating her eggs.

“Well, sure, but not like that. Only men I’ve really liked have seen me like that.” Shelly thought for a moment. “Do you like Dr. Fleischman like that? I suppose it would make sense if you did. He’s kind of cute but too young for me.”

“No, of course not. Joel’s too…Joel. Neurotic. Kind of mean. But also-“ she pointed her fork in Shelly’s direction for emphasis “-our doctor. It’s one thing to do this for science and entire thing to do it for personal pleasure.”

Shelly frowned. “I never thought of it like that. Poor Dr. Fleischman, no wonder he’s so high strung most of the time. I’d be angry too if I couldn’t sleep with anyone. You’re going to let him, though, for the study I mean?”

Too stunned to speak, she blinked.

Shelly colored. “Oh I thought—well, Chris said this morning on the radio that you were. Or would. But I guess maybe he could’ve been wrong.”

“Chris in the Morning?” she shrieked. “I was wondering why everyone kept looking at me like that when I was shopping at Ruth-Anne’s this morning! Just take the eggs, Shelly; I’m sick.”

Remorsefully, Shelly took the plate off the table. “If it makes you feel any better, Chris said he thought you and Dr. Fleischman were well qualified for the study, and you had everyone’s vote of confidence in the bar this morning. We never knew who had a degree in psychology.”

“Well there’s not much to do with a bachelor’s degree in psychology, even in the well populated parts of the United States, believe it or not. Here it really means next to nothing.” Laying her head down on the cold surface of the table, she mumbled, “Has Joel been in today? I don’t think I can see him until later. This is mortifying and I’m 99 percent sure he was the one who told Chris.”

“Well…” Shelly said nervously.

“What?”

“Hi, Shelly.”

She heard Joel’s voice coming closer. Her stomach twisted as she raised her head and saw him approaching, wearing a too bright disposition.

“Hi, Joel, would you like some eggs?” Shelly offered as he pulled out a chair. “She can’t eat them on the account that you’ve made her sick.”

Joel frowned. “Me? What in the world have I done? I just got here! I’ve been to no other place besides my home this morning.”

“You’re telling the whole town everything,” she whispered harshly. When he perked an eyebrow, confused, she added, “That I’m gonna sleep with you!”

Shelly shifted awkwardly. “I think I’m gonna go put these back in the kitchen while you look at the menu, Joel.”

Joel scoffed, ignoring Shelly. “I detest that,” he began, “I mean, really. You know how this town gets and your immediate thought is that I’m the one who’s the problem? I’m a professional and even if we are in the middle of nowhere, I still abide by a code of conduct. I could have accused you of the same thing, but I didn’t because I’m not insane. God knows where they get the information they do.”

“You’ve already ruined my breakfast and now you’re ruining my morning,” she huffed. Grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair, she made to leave.

“Wait, wait,” he said, grabbing his own coat and chasing after her. He followed her to the door and opened it. She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling the stares of everyone turn towards them.

“Go back,” she told him sternly.

“I will not. We’ve got some things to discuss before tonight anyways, and I think it’s silly that you’re angry at me.” He waved his hand in the direction of the door, smiling with that stupid glint in his eyes—so self satisfied. “Come on. It’s going to be very awkward tonight if we begin like this.”

The outside air was chilly as they exited the bar. She pulled her gloves out of her coat and squinted against the morning sun. “What more could you possibly want to ask me?” She delivered the words sharply.

Joel didn’t let her defeat his mood. He nearly skipped beside her, hands in his pockets. “Oh, simple questions but ones I think would be better if I asked you in the confines of my office, given the way you’re reacting to this.”

“I don’t want to be a town spectacle, Joel, is that so hard to understand?”

“No, of course not, but you’ve got to know by now anything is a town spectacle in Cicely. And besides, who cares? This is for science. It’s honorable. We could even win awards for this.” She scoffed beside him and he buckled down, serious. “No, I mean truly. You know for the first time in a long time I woke up and felt like I’m doing something that matters? I’m on top of the world right now!”

“I’m honored you think so highly of the prospect of watching me touch myself,” she told him dryly. Surprisingly it earned her a laugh. He really was in a good mood—an impossibly good mood. Despite herself, she found herself fighting off a small grin at the sight of him.

He held the door open for her when they made it to his office. Marilyn sat at her desk as usual, knitting.

“Hello,” Marilyn greeted warmly.

“Hello,” she responded, the anger disappearing completely from her tone. “What are you making?”

Marilyn held up the fabric. “A sweater.”

“It looks very nice.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

Joel maneuvered behind her and moved towards Marilyn’s desk. “Listen, Marilyn, I want to make sure you don’t let anyone come back. Not at all. This is going to be a private appointment.”

“Should I lock up and go home?” Marilyn asked, not looking up from her stitch work.

“No, not that kind of personal,” Joel responded. “I conduct my own studies at my own facilities. It’s just a matter of privacy.”

Marilyn nodded. “Alright,” was her plain, unbothered response.

Joel’s office was as bare and as ugly as the last time she had seen it. That unappealing green shade they’d put on the walls had begun to peel, and that stupid New Yorker poster hanging behind his desk didn’t add much warmth to the environment. It served much of the same purpose that the calendar in the lobby did: his reminder to the town that his days in Cicely were numbered.

“You should really decorate or paint or something. This isn’t comforting at all. There’s no life,” she told him, taking a seat.

“As much as I appreciate your constructive criticism, I didn’t bring you here for your opinion on the decor.” Joel shuffled around in his bag, before bringing out a leather bound folder. “I brought you here for this.”

He handed her the paper out of it.

“What’s that?”

“Questions and consent.” Joel sat in his office chair. “I want you to know that this is likely to get a little awkward for the both of us, and that’s okay. I’m going to ask you vulnerable questions and you’re allowed to ask me vulnerable questions too. I’ll answer all of them.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, nerves beginning to fill her. He smiled softly — too kind. “Stop that,” she told him.

“What?”

“Just be normal.”

“Nothing about what we are going to do is normal. I’m just trying to make you comfortable.”

“Well it’s having the opposite effect.”

Joel ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath in. “You can’t possibly be this difficult the entire night. Stop being so defensive. I’ve seen you naked before.”

“That’s not why I’m being defensive! I’m just nervous,” she confessed, frowning. “I haven’t—I don’t know. This is so weird.”

“That’s why I’m going to ask you these questions. They’re about your—your, you know, comfort. Questions pertaining to what makes you feel good and what I can do to ensure that this study replicates a normal session for you.”

She glanced down at it. Questions like “Do you reach orgasm mostly from vaginal or clitoral stimulation?” and “How many times a week do you self pleasure?” popped out at her. Warily, she looked up at Joel.

He set his own page down and took off his reading glasses. “Listen, if this is too much, we don’t have to do it. I mean it. I’ll just find someone else. It’ll be okay. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I’m sorry. I want to! It’s just odd. I…It would be different if maybe we’d, you know…but we haven’t.”

Joel considered that. “Do you think it makes that much of a difference that we aren’t sexual partners?”

“No,” she said. Then, after a beat, “Maybe. I don’t know. I just feel like you’ve got an unfair advantage over me at the moment. Like you’ve seen me naked and you’re going to see me…you know, but I don’t even, like, know your full name.”

“Joel Haim Fleischman.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you wanted to be serious.”

“I’m trying to help you. You said you didn’t know, so I told you. Ask more questions. Anything.”

“Like about how you…you know?” She quirked an eyebrow and made a lewd gesture that made him grin widely.

He nodded. “If you want. I think that’s fair.”

She nodded firmly. “How do you, then?”

The old office chair creaked as he leaned back and tapped his pencil against his lap. It was a nervous habit, but he didn’t look nervous. Oddly enough — being as he was Joel — she figured this sort of thing would’ve discomforted him more than it did her. But he seemed at ease, professional.

“I have these magazines,” he told her plainly. “Standard stuff, Playboy and a few lingerie catalogs. I sit in my bed and I look at them for a little while, and I touch myself.”

“Like how?”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “Like…explicitly?”

“Yes. That’s only right. You said so yourself.”

They looked at each other for a moment before he swallowed and continued. “I…Well,” he laughed nervously, bringing himself closer to the desk now. “I have lube that I keep in my nightstand and I take some of it out. I put a decent amount in my hand and I—well, you know. I usually do it quickly and a little rough.” A blush spread across his cheeks but he worked hard to conceal the fact that he was growing unnerved. He didn’t move his eyes from hers. “What about you? Do you use magazines?”

“No. Sometimes I use erotic novels but mostly I use my own imagination.” She looked down at the paper in her hand. The questions seemed so…intimate. When he started writing on the paper, she looked back up. “What are you writing?”

“What you said.” Joel put his glasses back on. “Do you have a recurring fantasy or a scenario you go back to?”

She shifted in the chair. “There‘s a few. Do I have to describe them to you?”

“No, but it would be helpful if you could briefly talk about why these scenarios turn you on.”

She felt herself heat. “The control,” she answered meekly. “I…in my scenarios, I’m being managed. Not tossed around or roughed up, but you know, sort of bossed around. But nicely.”

Joel remained stoic as he scribbled more words into his page. “Do you use toys?”

“Sometimes a vibrator.”

“Do you penetrate yourself?”

“Oh my god. It’s barely 10:30.”

He looked up at her, hardly concealing his grin. “What? This is a basic questioning that I’ve drawn up from real, actual studies women have done before. Is there a better way you’d like me to phrase that?”

“I don’t do that. I mean. Not really. I mean, only once or twice but it’s not preferred when it’s just me.”

“Clitoral stimulation mostly then?” She nodded. “Okay. And you’re not allergic to latex?”

“Like condoms?” Joel nodded. “No.”

“And you’re still on the birth control? The pills?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t missed a day?”

“No.” She leaned over the desk to look at his writing. “You’re writing an awful lot there.” He nodded his head in agreement but didn’t explain.

Joel finished writing the last of his thoughts and then he leaned back again in his creaking office chair. He looked none the worse for having asked her those things, completely and totally unbothered. He could be unnerved, though; she saw it in those brief moments he had to talk about himself.

Strangely she wanted to see more of it. It went straight to her core, the idea of him laying there on his bed, looking at those nude magazines. Maybe even moaning a little lewdly. Did he moan? Whimper? She knew she could ask and he would answer.

She became embarrassed when she caught his eyes. “I better go. I’ve got things to do before you come over tonight.”

“But we didn’t discuss what we’re going to be doing.”

She stood from her chair. “You’re going to watch me. There, we discussed it.”

“But you haven’t signed the consent form!” He waved the paper in the air as she tried to make her escape.

She leaned forward to steal the pencil he had been holding. Quickly she scribbled her name on the dotted line. “Better?”

Joel inspected her through narrowed eyes. “You sure you’re going to be okay with this?”

“Positive. See you then, buddy.”

Buddy?

She was losing her goddamn mind.

——————

Torture. It was positively, without a doubt, torture.

After she had left Joel, she had spent the better part of the day absorbed in her own thoughts. Nervously she had made and re-made her bed. She had cleaned the house obsessively. She had tried on different outfits. Skirts and dresses and then plain blue jeans with simple sweaters. Then she decided on no clothes, only underwear. Then she tried on every undergarment she owned. Black lacy bras with black, lacy underwear; then plain white bras with plain white underwear; and then every other combination in between. Finally she had decided on the lingerie set that she had ordered a few months back.

It was a gift to herself to feel better about the fact that she was wasting away at the age of twenty-five in a little town she had to tell people was ‘someplace close to Anchorage’ just to save herself from the ‘Oh I don’t know where that is’ conversation.

The set had been too expensive considering the impressive lack of fabric, but she had never owned something so pretty before. The bra was strapless, sheer on the sides with intricate, see-through white lace covering the cups, and the matching underwear had the same sheer lace everywhere, except the crotch area. A white silk stripe of fabric covered the area in the middle there, leaving something to the imagination. It had also come with a white garter belt and stockings, but she chose not to wear those. After all, the set had been for her, not Dr. Joel Fleischman, M.D.

Even if she was dressing for Joel — though she wasn’t, truly — then so what? She had suffered enough. Maybe he was neurotic and on the whole not incredibly personable, but he had graduated from Columbia, making him a successful person. Plus, she was pretty sure that he knew where the clit was and that was more than she could say about the two other men she had slept with. And there had also been the way he had sat in the office chair and asked her those questions, almost completely unbothered. And the way he had confessed how he had touched himself. How he had emphasized rough…

She frowned. Maybe she could admit, just a little bit, that she wouldn’t mind if Joel happened to find her attractive. But that wasn’t a crime—it was almost more helpful. They had agreed, if this session worked, that they would conduct further research. Research done together. He had spelled it all out for her, in medical terms, of course: start with self pleasure; move to cunnilingus, perhaps paired with digital penetration (this, he had to explain, was what people referred to as ‘fingering’); and then end with coitus. A simple three to four week plan, if they found themselves comfortable enough. If she found herself comfortable enough.

God only knew she wanted—no, needed—to get comfortable. That New Yorker, fish-out-of-water business Joel had going for him paled in comparison to the existential crisis she had coming up. At least he knew he had his water when this was all over with. She hadn’t the faintest idea where she was headed.

———-

He came bearing gifts. Well, a gift, that was more a gift to him than it was to her.

She handed him a wine glass from the cabinet and he took it with a sheepish grin. “I forgot,” he told her honestly, opening the top of the bottle. “I wouldn’t have brought it if I remembered that you couldn’t have it. Your nerves got me nervous today, you know? I was just trying to think of ways to make you feel better.”

If she wasn’t so nervous still, maybe she’d find some humor in the sentence. But she was still nervous. Increasingly nervous. “Ha,” she managed. She tightened white silk robe around her body and turned around to get a glass of water for herself.

Joel moved up beside her, pushing his glass of wine in front of her. “Maybe just a little won’t hurt. But just a little.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I don’t want to interfere with the results.”

“You’re so nervous. That’s going to mess with the results worse than a sip of alcohol will.”

She pushed it away from her, looking away from him. She focused on the clean kitchen sink—how the light made the bottom of it shimmer. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“Well…” he laughed nervously. “I’m not sure we should be having this conversation right now.”

She looked at him. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I asked you to do this. I would never…I consider this a purely professional conquest.”

“So if I wanted to kiss me, you would?”

Joel licked his lips, eyebrows furrowed. “I…Would it make you feel more comfortable?”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if I wanted you to kiss me, would you?”

He inspected her face. “Yes,” he replied seriously.

Up close like this, she could smell him. He smelt like soap and fresh laundry; clean but not overly scented. Doctor-like. The outside clanged to him too, but just a little; it was the scent of the frost that came off of people whenever they stepped in from the cold, nothing offensive.

His face was more visible than usual like this, too. She noticed he had a scar that ran from the bottom of his cheek to the place just before his chin began. It was a prominent straight line, something she was surprised to have never noticed before. And then there was his nose, which she had noticed, but had never really admired. It was really very nice, long, sloped, and bulbed at the end.

“You have a nice nose,” she complimented, reaching out to touch it. Her finger traced down the slope and he laughed self-consciously, shaking her hand away. “No, really. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Oh, sure. Nadine Fleischman.”

“Mother?” she asked. Joel nodded his head. It made her grin. “She seems like a wise woman. Does she know you’re doing this?”

Joel brought the wine up to his lips. “This?” He motioned between the two of them. “Of course not. She would be strongly against this. If all goes well, I’ll just have to think of something to tell her. What about you? Do your parents know?”

“No. I don’t tell them what they don’t ask and they don’t ask much.” She shrugged. Placing the glass in the sink, she turned to face him. “I bet your parents are really proud of you.”

“Well, I try my best to make them proud. I’m sure yours are proud too, though. I mean, not every woman can pack up and move to the middle of nowhere by herself. That takes a certain amount of bravery.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We’re not all Maggie O’Connells here. I don’t have my own airplane and I think my move was more an act of cowardice. I wanted to get away from civilization for a little while.”

Joel clicked his tongue. “C’mon, you’re being too hard on yourself. Cicely and her lover Roslyn came here looking for the same exact thing, and you wouldn’t consider them cowards, would you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly an explorer, either.”

“But you are!” He beamed, catching his stride with this pep-talk. “I mean look at you. We’re moments away from conducting a study that could do some very serious good for the scientific and medical communities. And you brought it to my attention! Me, the one who went to Columbia. I know maybe that isn’t something you can report back to your parents about, but it certainly is something to be personally proud of. And I chose you for a reason, you know?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she teased, “It had nothing to do with the population size and the fact that I’m currently one of the only unwed and single women in the area?”

Joel tilted his hand side to side, playing along. “Only partially. Mostly though, it’s because you're intelligent. I never wanted to just watch you, and I still don’t. I want to be co-collaborators with you. I think that your input on this project will be almost more beneficial than your, you know, input.” He took another sip of his wine, smiling down at it. “Truthfully, if I thought there were more women in Cicely willing to do this, I wouldn’t have asked you to be my subject at all. But I would’ve still asked you to help me. And I mean that.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thank you, Joel,” she said, trying not to sound so affected. Then, finally: “I think I’m ready whenever you are.”

———

Her bedroom wasn’t overly frivolous: she had a sizable bed, a closet, her dresser, a nightstand, and a single, old wooden desk that sat to the right of the doorway. The desk and dresser had come with the house. The only piece of decor on her walls was a medium size poster that hung over the bed to make up for the lack of a proper headboard. In it, Bob Dylan and Joan Baez stood by another poster that read “Protest Against The Rising Tide of Conformity.” It had been something she had obtained and college and never got rid of. In many ways, she felt it was the only thing in the world that was really hers.

Of course, Joel found this amusing almost as soon as he had seen it.

“Robert Zimmerman,” he shook his head ruefully, “He’s one of me, you know?”

“What, Jewish?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of ironic that he’d stand in front of a poster like that with a name like Bob Dylan, don’t you think?”

“I never really thought about it. It's funny that you mention that, though, because she’s one of me.”

Joel looked over at her, puzzled. “What, an independent woman?”

She shook her head, laughing. “A Mexican, Joel.”

“No kidding.” He perked out his bottom lip, genuinely surprised.

“My father isn’t very dark,” she said in way of an explanation. “We come in different shades, believe it or not. Her father must’ve been darker. Or her mother. I don’t know. Aside from the fact that she’s a Mexican, I don’t know much else.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“Did I ask you if you spoke Yiddish?” she snapped back.

He narrowed his eyes, smiling drooping. “Is this a cruel to be kind thing you’ve got going on? You’re like Jekyll and Hyde today. Worse, maybe.”

Shamed filled her. “I know,” she admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit of bitch sometimes.”

He considered her for a moment. “It’s okay, I guess. My professional diagnosis is still a bad case of nerves. I trust that if they worsen you’ll tell me, because I don’t want to do this if you feel uncomfortable.“

“I don’t feel nervous, though! Not as much as before, anyways.”

“Good. There’s nothing to be nervous about. But if you do—know that consent form was merely something that said you consented to the results of the study being published, not the study being conducted. I’d never make you sign something like that with this. I want us to trust each other.”

“Thank you. I’m fine, though.” She took a seat on her bed. “What’d you bring in the bag?”

He sat the black backpack that hung across his shoulder on the desk and began to extract the items from it, one by one. “This—“ he held up a clipboard, “Is the paper I’ll use to record the results. I’ll write how long it takes for you to come to an orgasm, the ways in which you do it, what you use. You know.”

Listening, she laid back on the mattress. She allowed the robe–which she had made sure was fastened tightly around her the entire time–to slip open, revealing a good portion of herself to the air. Joel paused for a second, taking her in, before going back to the bag. She was flattered by the hazy nature he delivered the rest of the tutorial in, as if he was only half there, distracted.

“Does that all make sense?” he asked at the end. “I’ll use the timer to time you, and you’ll tell me when you’re, you know, orgasming? It’s pretty simple.” He made intentional eye contact with her.

“Makes perfect sense,” she told him, drumming her fingers alongside her abdomen.

“Right. So I’ll just—“ He pulled the seat out from the desk and grabbed the pencil and clipboard. Joel nodded towards her. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The slightly unnerved nature of him made her feel less intimidated. Watching him squirm, trying to avoid looking at her body—she liked that. She wanted to know that he could be made just as vulnerable—that she wasn’t the only one who felt nervous and anxious.

They maintained careful eye contact as she discarded the rest of the robe onto the floor, and continued to maintain it as she pushed herself up to the pillows. It seemed like he was almost scared to look lower.

“Joel?” she asked, sitting up on her forearms.

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Will you kiss me?”

“Right now?”

She nodded her head.

“Would it make you more comfortable?”

“I think it would make both of us more comfortable.”

He smiled timidly before setting his clipboard down.

As Joel took off his shoes and tugged his tie loose at the end of the bed, her heart pounded against her rib cage fiercely, just desperate to jump out of her. It wanted to find some relief in a body that didn’t make it work overtime. Someone who was a little wiser with it.

“Is it alright if I keep my clothes on?” he asked, fingers still playing with his patterned tie. “I can take them off if you want. I once had a girlfriend who wouldn’t let me in her bed unless I changed or got out of my clothes, so if that’s a problem—“

“You’re fine,” came her quiet response.

The bed dipped under the weight of him and she felt the warm feel on his fingers brushing against her ankle. It was obvious by the way he looked at her, brows creased, asking silently whether he was allowed to do that—to touch her—that he hadn’t meant to. She nodded her head.

The gesture made her relax on the mattress.

Joel moved his fingers from her ankle and situated himself nearer to her, at the pillows. Awkwardly he attempted to make sense of their positions — her on one side of the bed, lying on her back, him at the other, practically on his knees. She found confidence in his lack of confidence, grabbing the sides of his open green cardigan and pulling him towards her.

At first he kissed her hesitantly, pecking once, then twice, each time keeping his eyes open and alert, watching her. After a bit, he began to realize that there was no protest waiting to rise up in her throat—that she was not just doing this for his benefit. Joel pressed his lips fully to hers after that. They were soft and warm, plush as he used them to map out her own mouth. He tasted like wine and mint gum, and was perfectly okay with what he did not know. He treated it like it was—a first—and it made her appreciate him all the more for it.

Sometimes - most of the time - men never did firsts like they should be done. They wanted to be experts, wanted to prove they were capable. Joel took no interest in that. He hovered over her, trying to understand before he moved. Even his hands remained respectful, just barely brushing over her back.

As the kiss became more heated, both of them began to lose their previous reservations. Joel’s body molded into hers; one of his arms wrapped around her waist and pressed her closer, and she placed one of her bare thighs between his legs. Beneath his dress shirt she could feel the outline of his frame, surprisingly hard and muscular. His nose brushed against hers as he moved his head to kiss her more deeply and she let him enter her mouth with his tongue, meeting it with her own for a moment.

When he accidentally brushed his hands over her breast, trying to re-situate, she mewled into his mouth. Joel parted from her, eyes at first remorseful, but that went as quickly as it had come when he looked down at her. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. Joel stared down between their bodies and she knew what he was looking at: the way her nipples had hardened beneath the white lace of her bra. It made her feel good, warm. Wet. She took his hand in her own, guiding him back to her breast.

He went slack jawed for a second, before coming to his senses. “Are you—oh, God.” He said, wearing a strained smile. “I hate to ask this now, but do you think maybe you’re ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

They kissed once more, more messy and less calculated than the attempts before. She tugged at the ends of his hair and he groped at her still covered breast, his warm palm scraping against her nipple. She moaned and he sucked at the end of her tongue after she had pressed it into his mouth with small kitten licks. Strings of saliva hung off their connected lips when they separated again, and he half grinned, breathing heavier beside her. “You’re going to do great,” he whispered softly.

The trip back to the chair was an arduous one he scarcely survived, almost tripping over the blankets and then his own two feet. When he sat back down, the sight of him made her laugh heartily; his mussed up hair, his red, swollen lips, the dazed look in his eyes. He laughed too.

“Put on those eyeglasses, Fleischman, and then I’ll start.”

Joel hummed, amused, but did as she said. The eyeglasses he wore every day sat on his nose and he watched, both expectant and—if she didn’t know better—she might dare to say excited. He leaned forth in the chair, licking his lips. No longer did he fear looking lower.

“Maybe, uh—“ He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “—take your underwear off? You don’t have to, but for the sake of, you know, me seeing everything, I think that would…you know.”

“Right.” She lifted her hips off the mattress and shimmed out of the nearly sheer underwear she had taken so much time choosing. Her left foot pushed them down her leg, to her ankle. With an amused grin, she tossed them in Joel’s direction. He caught them, shaking his head.

“I think you’re liable to be a lot of trouble for me, you know?”

“Is that right?” she cooed, opening her legs. The cool breeze in the room made goosebumps form on her flesh. His dark eyes drank her in.

“You’re not supposed to be cuming for me,” he told her, his voice low, seductive. “Cum like you might usually, as if I weren’t here. Close your eyes, lean back on the pillow. Think of your fantasies. Men who are a little rough… but nice.”

She let his voice guide her, shut her eyes, pressed her body back against the mattress. Her fingers strummed lightly alongside the inside of her thighs, teasing the area. She could hear the scrapping of his pencil against the clipboard when she did, and wondered what it was he wrote as her hands zeroed in closer to her core. She knew he didn’t want her to cum for him, but he never did say not to cum thinking of him.

After teasing her legs, two of her fingers began to massage her center, pulling her lips apart, and then running over them gently, up and down, up and down, not yet sliding a finger in to feel the slick she was certain had already gathered there. She began to feel the stirrings of her desire, warming her inside out, from the top of her head, to the bottom of her feet. It was electric. She felt like if he pressed her finger to her clit right now, she’d cum in a second. So she didn’t

She pressed a finger between her folds, allowing herself a little more sensation; she ran it up and down just like before, this time gathering up the wetness, taking it up nearly to the point of her clit, but stopping just short of it. It was a torturous act of self restraint, but she had learned from experience that it welcomed a more fulfilling orgasm–like denying herself it for too long only made it build up with more fury.

She began to think of Joel again. Thought of his nose, how the tip of it would feel as it scraped against her swollen clit, his tongue lapping the juices between her legs. How his fingers would press into the flesh of her thighs, tight, holding them apart. The lewd sounds of his tongue pressed to her cunt as he drew an orgasm from her, sucking her the way he had with her tongue, taking and taking and taking until she was nothing but a shaking mess in his arms.

She could feel her slickness more prominently between her legs now. Knew that Joel, who sat across from her, watching, could probably see it drip down her cunt—could maybe even see it glisten on her fingers as she ran them up and down and finally, remorsefully, letting two of them circle her own clit. She pressed down hard, her knees fighting to draw inward, and her one free hand clutching desperately to the pillow her head laid on.

She began to moan more openly than she usually allowed herself to, unashamed by it in a way she couldn’t bring herself to be in normal circumstances. The pressure was building up rapidly behind her clit and her body was begging for release, shaking ever so slightly. She thought of his mouth, how hot and wet it’d be, thought about how he’d run his tongue up and down her folds and maybe if she asked him—or better yet, maybe even if she didn’t—he’d poke the tip of it inside of her, filling her with him, before lapping her up greedily. How he’d pinch her nipple between his fingers and tell her how good she was doing-

“Oh Joel,” she moaned, “Joel—I’m—I’m cumming.”

She rode herself out until she felt it was all done—without bringing herself to another orgasm—and then she crashed back onto the mattress. She breathed fast, spent and electrified all at once. Staring up at the ceiling, she grinned.

That had been one of the best orgasms of her life.

“Do you mind if I say something mildly inappropriate?” Joel asked, his voice tight. She glanced up at him. He looked amazed.

“Go for it, Doctor.”

“That was the hottest thing a woman has ever done in front of me. God, you—“ He ran his hands through his already unruly hair, leaning back in his chair. He wore a faint grin. “I’m a proud Jewish man, don’t get me wrong, but if you were a religion I think I’d be converted.”

She laughed. “How long?”

“Hm?” he asked, eyebrows drawn up.

“How long did it take me to orgasm?”

“Oh.” He came to, remembering himself. He looked down at the paper. “A minute and thirty seconds. Is that usual?”

“Probably. I don’t know. Maybe a little shorter.”

Joel jotted that on the paper. Without looking up he said, “Do you mind if I ask you what you thought about while you did it?”

She propped her head up on her hand. “Is it a professional or personal question, Dr. Fleischman?” she said, toeing the line between flirtatious and serious.

Smirking, he replied, “Let’s say both.”

“I thought of you.”

His cheeks heated, but it was obvious that fact flattered him; he sat straighter in the chair and he grinned. He also found it in himself to be brave enough to ask, “What about me? Was I like the other guys you think about?”

She inspected him, saw the glint in his eye and the visible tent his cock had made, even despite the dark color of his pants. “Do you like being talked to through masturbation, Dr. Fleischman?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Well, I don’t know, I’ve never tried it before.”

She bit her lip, debating her next words.

On one hand she very much wanted Joel to come undone in front of her. It was obvious the thought of it was killing him too, making him tense. He watched her expectantly, sitting in that chair, clutching that clipboard so hard it practically made his knuckles white.

But on the other hand, she wondered what this would do to them outside of the bedroom. Her relationship with him had bordered on friendly before, but would it stay that way if they crossed the threshold from professional to self indulgent? She really did need this study more than he would ever know–more for herself than anything. He had been so kind the entire time, though–reassuring and soft, patient and understanding. There had been nothing they had done so far that he hadn’t asked permission for. And he was just Joel. Though there were times he could border on asshole territory, he never flung himself into it—especially not at the moments that mattered. She believed him to be good, someone she might have really liked if she met him on the street somewhere.

Drawing herself up on her forearms, she decided.

“Did that make you hard?” Her words practically dripped in sex. It had been so long since she had done something like this. But she knew it was right, felt it in the way he regarded her with that astounded, half surprised, half unbelieving look.

He tossed the clipboard to the ground. “Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me,” he joked, fingers resting on his thighs.

She pulled herself closer to him, slowly, scooting just an inch down the bed. Getting on her knees, she reached behind her and unclipped her bra. “Am I? What would you know,” She shrugged, smirking.

He looked like he was about to faint from joy. “Oh my God,” he grinned. “Jesus, I never—you know, you think about this sort of thing happening but you never really expect it. This is the stuff of wet dreams. The stuff that only happens in the movies. Oh my God.” He tugged his tie looser.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

She crawled a few inches closer, stopping at the end of the bed. “Shut up and undo your belt,” she whispered.

He nodded eagerly, fingers pulling at the leather. The sound of the metal clanking filled her with anticipation. She bit at her lip, watching him. Joel looked up at her in the eyes and they shared something silently for a moment. It was an agreement, a pact. It said: this part is for us.

“Take yourself out. You got to see me. I want to see you.”

He unzipped himself slowly, practicing more self control than she thought he’d be able to. Maintaining eye contact with her, he reached into his underwear. Joel opened his mouth, a moan escaping as he rested his cock against his palm. She grinned. He didn’t move, didn’t even try to offer himself any relief. The shaft was already leaking, beads of pre-cum glistening the head.

In an odd way, this made her feel more womanly than she had in a very long time. Maybe in ever. The way he looked at her, eyes so full of want; the way he let her say and do whatever she wanted; the way he listened without question, like he trusted her – it made her feel wanted, needed..

“I know I said masturbation, but do you mind if…Well, I want to put my mouth on you.” She bit at her lip. “Can I do that?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he told her, exasperated. “Don’t you know that? Look at you.”

Joel made room between his legs for her body and she got on her knees. He took her head between his hands, smiling. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked her softly. She nodded, reaching forward to take him in her hand.

“Oh,” he moaned, face contorting with pleasure. His hands moved to the back of her head, entangling with her hair, and she leaned forward. Experimentally she licked the top of his shaft, her tongue flat. He ever so slightly thrusted his hips forward at the contact, laughing mutedly once she pulled back to look up at his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost inaudibly. He moved a piece of her hair back away from her face. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that—“

She cut him off, leaning forward again. Her tongue licked the underside of his cock slowly, following a vein up to the top where she sucked lightly, teasingly, at his tip. He worked hard not to rut his hips, his hands tugging a little on her hair, and she opened her mouth, taking him in. She tasted him on her tongue; this wasn’t the wine or the mint of his lips or the clean of his body; it was salty and purely him.

She licked a ring around his head before going down, wetting more of his cock. As she began to take him deeper, testing both him and herself, she found that was more apt at this than she thought; nearly the entirety of him fit in her mouth. Joel’s fingers tugged at her hair when she went back up, doing his best to stay still.

They looked at each other when she sucked at his tip again. It was a marvel to her how pain and pleasure looked so alike, but she found there was a definite difference when he groaned through gritted teeth and told her, “You’re taking me so well.”

The praise settled directly between her thighs. She took him fully in her mouth again and let her own moans vibrate against his cock as she slid a hand between her legs. Joel’s tugs began to grow a little harsher and she reached her free hand around her head, clinching onto one of the responsible arms.

She began to move faster, bopping on his cock, and his moans became more unmanageable, no longer something he could hold back. They were low, throaty, a product of all of his desires. She moaned against him, her hand beginning to work faster, rubbing tight circles around her clit and he began to draw his hips up to match the rhythm of her movements.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his grip on her hair loosening. He shuttered, fingers hovering over her shoulders. “I’m gonna cum. Honey, you better—“

She took him deeper, faster, her tongue running alongside the underside of him. Joel groaned deeply, his hips canting. Moments after she came, rubbing her sensitive clit harder, Joel did the same. His hot seed filled her mouth and drew herself off his cock, satisfied.

As she swallowed, he leaned back in the chair, blissed out. He moved the hair from her face again, breathing heavily. Joel smiled at her. “Thank you,” he told her breathily.

Exhausted, he leaned his head against the back of the chair too. He closed his eyes, laughing. Looking up at him, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, surprised at herself. But not ashamed of anything.

That surprised her more than anything: that she could sit here on her knees, between his open legs, naked and vulnerable, and not feel like she had done anything wrong. Joel didn’t make her feel like what she did was wrong; he basked in it. He leaned forward, once he got over the initial surprise, and kissed her on the lips. That too surprised her. She had put her mouth on him and he still wanted to kiss her. She wondered if he tasted himself – if he liked that idea as much as she did. All of the sudden, she had so many questions for him.

She must’ve been looking at him like he was insane, because he said, “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine. More than fine.” She grinned. “You…You kissed me.”

“Did you not want me to?”

“No, I did!” she clarified. “I just…I thought men didn’t like that after women went down on them.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I think that’s stupid, don’t you? You just gave me some of the best head I’ve ever had in my life and you swallowed it! You didn’t have to do that.” He shook his head in disbelief. “No way I’m not gonna kiss you. It sorta kills me to think you’ve been with someone who told you that. Going forth, know you shouldn't do that for men who think that.”

“Yeah,” she responded awkwardly, feeling inexperienced suddenly.

Self-consciously she leaned forward and grabbed her underwear from beside the chair. Joel leaned out and touched her. “Hey,” he said softly, “That wasn’t meant as a lecture or anything. I’m just saying. I’m sure many women, just as smart as you, have fallen for that exact same thing.”

“I know.”

He looked at her, frowning. “It’s okay that you don’t know things. There’s things I don’t know–things I wouldn't mind teaching me.” He paused, drawing himself up in the chair. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” she asked, rising from her knees.

“If you still want to continue with this, we can treat it as a learning experience for us both. No judgments, just experimenting after we experiment.”

She laughed, putting one of her legs in the underwear. “I know how to have sex, Fleischman.”

“I know you do – you’ve very much proved that – but it's obvious someone has got you a bit twisted up. I don’t think there's really a stopping point for sexual experimentation, either. Like today–I didn’t know I liked women who were a little dominant, but now I do. That’s the stuff you learn.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“I’m being 100 percent truthful and I don’t feel self conscious about admitting that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I worked hard in med school and up until a bit ago, I was with the same woman for a very long time. It’s a simple truth that I have very few notches in my bed post, but I’m not opposed to learning. This whole thing–it could be for you and me as much as for the whole world. We’ll just have a little something for us when we’re done with what we need to do each week. What do you say?”

She considered it, walking around the bed to retrieve the bra. What the hell? she thought.

“Okay,” she told him.

His nose crinkled when he smiled. “That’s the spirit. You wanna get coffee with me in the morning?”

“I think I just want to be your friend right now.”

“That’s okay, but it doesn’t answer the question.”

She paused. “You weren’t asking me out?”

“No, just coffee. Friendly coffee. You can even pay for your own, if it means that much to you.” He leaned forward and grabbed the clipboard off the ground, putting it on the desk.

She was being too cynical.

She smiled. “No, it’s okay. You can pay, what with you having doctor’s wages and all.”

“Oh, thanks, you’re a real pal.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking at him. She smiled sincerely.“You are too.”

And for the first time since she had moved to Cicely, she felt she truly had something. Lots of somethings. Coffee in the morning and Joel and this, whatever this was.

It was as life was saying: Fish with no water, meet the sea.

#joel fleischman #northern exposure #joel fleischman x oc #joel fleischman x ofc #northern exposure fic #rob morrow #rob morrow fic #oh my god i did it

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